Peal de Becerro-Cazorla

My Dear Friends,
I said I would say somehing more about the hotel I was in last night, and
so I will. I thought when I entered the bar and asked for a room that it
was a rent-by-hour kind of place. The young man behind the bar had a
weaselly face and brylcreemed hair, and the woman had to go to prepare my
room. But how wrong can you be? It certainly wasn't luxurious, but was
perfectly fine. Later, when I went down for a bite to eat, the bar was
filling up. There were all classes of people: young folks out on the town;
a family of gypsies, the man dressed like George Melly; families; a group
of middle-age middle-class women; three Africans and and a whole basket of
European currencies. The weasel boy was serving all of these people with an
efficiency and speed that I have rarely seen even in Spain. So, don't judge
the fish by its scales.

Today I made up a route from Peal to Cazorla which worked very well
although it involved rather too many olive trees for my liking.
Cazorla is a very Spanish touristy kind of place, but it's easy to see
why. It is tucked into the Sierra de Cazorla like so many other Andalucian
white villages, but has the amenities of a town, including castle ruined
church and other picturesque monuments. I've met two Spanish friends here
and one of them is going to walk with me for the next few days.
Distance today 13 km. It's about as much as I can manage on my poor old
feet.
___
A wayfarer in Spain