What is Budget Jan doing?

 

My mind has been trying to adjust to being home again from our recent trip to Europe. I’m suffering through the readjusting period – thinking of a million posts I could write and trying to transition from thinking to doing.

 

I could write about the impromptu walk that we undertook one day to Torre de la  Solana, in the Spanish hills, that ended with us sitting atop the hill, at the base of a stone tower, with workers who were laying cables to light the tower.

Said tower was the second last defence post for the Alhambra, back in the day when Granada was Islamic.  The castle at Moclin, the village where we were house-sitting, was the last line of defence, and it was lost to the Christians in 1485, leading to the surrender of Sultan Boabdil on January 2nd 1492.

I could tell you how we started by walking on the Camino Mozarabe de Santiago from Moclin.  The Camino starts in Granada but as Moclin is on the route we just joined in.

I could tell you how the Camino was leading us away from our Solana hilltop destination so we trespassed through an olive grove and then scrambled up the hill to the tower.  There is a lot of open space between the dark green olive trees and the bleached white soil.  From the top of a Andalucian hill and you can see interlopers for miles around.  We’d even asked our home-owner if it was O.K. to wander willy nilly through people’s groves and she replied hesitatingly  “No – Not Really”.

I could show you a photograph taken by me sitting amongst the stones and weeds on the hillside while Marty went looking at cave rock drawings and carrying out reconnaissance, or the Ibex (wild goats) he startled on the way.

I could share how friendly the local dogs were.  One even found us on top of the hill and came over to say buenos dias.

I could show you the tower side-view and confess how silly we felt when we realized we could have chosen a gentle slope instead of climbing the rock-face.  Or I could show you the view back toward Moclin and way in the background the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Does jet-lag scramble your thinking too?

 

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