The Rain in Spain Falls only in the North.

The rural areas in Spain have proved to be much more fun than the cities for me. Lacking the stamina and inclination for drinking every night of the week, heading out to Cuidillero beach for a couple of nights was fantastic. It is almost as far from the touristic south coast as you can get. Still, it wasn´t a natural paradise. Loudspeakers in public places create facist associations for me, and tell us that it´s too dangerous to swim today. Like most places in Europe I have visited, autopistas (motorways) run through the country. Because Asturias is a hilly province, the autopistas often run along massive four lane concrete land bridges, looming dozens of metres above the valleys below. They are probably the largest man-made structures I have come across. I find their powerful curves equally elegant and frightening.

(just a baby one)

A more familiar sight is the forests of Eucalyptus, planted for firewood, and turning the soil acidic.

In Cuidillero I met some lovely Madrilenos and French travellers, wrote a little. Got rained on (rain? what´s that?) learnt a bit of Spanish Sign Language. (I was named! my name is ~strokes his beard~)


My second rural exursion was even better. Startled my Madrid´s sprawling noise, I took a bus 150km south to a tiny village which was hosting EcoPop... a festival of Eco... and ...Pop. Better still was the Sierra Gredos (pictured) behind, which loomed like friendly giants and enticed me to spend a night in the mountains, alone in a ´refugio´ surrounded by pines and granite outcrops. And more blackberries than I could ever eat. I definitely want to come back for more.