From Gibraltar I headed into the mountains – first to Ronda, then on to Granada. Both cities I can wholeheartedly recommend.
I needed some peace and quiet. And as strange as it may sound to anyone dreaming of a free life like this – this road trip is brutally exhausting and at the same time, heartbreakingly beautiful.
In Granada, I wanted to be alone. Ten minutes later, I got caught up with a lovely group of six from Madrid. A few laughs, seven Aperol Spritz later, I had to pull myself out.
Being alone is never easy. Sometimes, you have to actively search for solitude. Too many questions keep spinning in my head these days.
The next morning, I left Granada – still half-asleep – and drove on to Valencia. A beautiful city, absolutely worth the trip. But I just couldn’t bring myself to play. No strength left to drag my gear through town, no energy to perform.
So I kept driving along the coast and somehow ended up in Torredembarra.
Spontaneous gig tonight. I probably should’ve taken a day off – proof being that I left my car key at a café and didn’t even notice.
I had only returned to thank two elderly men who had told me about the venue – when the waiter came walking towards me, waving the key with a smile. Luckily, he remembered me.
At some point today, I was wandering through town looking for rolling papers. Something must’ve gone wrong in translation – a woman and her daughter offered me a ride and dropped me off at the venue.
I thanked them kindly and ended up walking all the way back.
Kilometers. One sting at a time.
Torredembarra, you strange and beautiful chapter.
