Buenos Dias Bloggy Friends,
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| Getting oriented |
For the next leg of our trip we wanted to experience a different side of Spain, so we jutted westward to Caravaca de la Cruz, a small mountain-hugged town located in the Murcia Region. The drive in was gorgeous — with grassy mountain ranges and orange plantations sprouting up all around us — but our arrival into Caravaca was a disaster. Like in Barcelona, I took a wrong turn that led us into an area of narrow streets full of cafés and locals walking their donkeys. There we were, bopping our big ass car over cobblestones, trying our best to squeeze around corners that would suffocate a Smart Car. I was about an inch from throwing my trembling hands up and abandoning the vehicle on the spot.
And then, when we thought it couldn’t get worse, we came to a café with tables and chairs lined up out front. Poor Alan had to walk in and beg the waitress, who didn’t speak a lick of English, to move the tables so we could get past. Thankfully, she obliged and we finally made our way to a normal street where we parked that son of a bitch in the first spot we could find.
