I'm making progress....Pilgrim's Progress

I've survived life on the campo long enough to make it to a city again. I'm in Cadiz where the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I'm not afraid an owl is going to eat me. I ate bread today and chocolate. But wait, dear readers! There is more to this seemingly simple story! City life isn't all bread and choco and safety from owls, oh no! Allow me to complain.

Let me firstly fill you in on what I do when I am in a new city so you can get a clear picture of how crazy I am. I walk. I walk and walk and walk until my feet hurt so badly that I am forced to stop at the first restaurant I come across. This saves me from having to make a decision that, for most people, is easy. What do I want to eat? For me, an indecisive Gemini, this can cause hours of mental anguish. I could get tapas or a hamberguesa or ice cream or coffee or donuts or coffee and donuts or cheese or Indian food. It goes on like this. Which is why I resort to torturing my body until I am too weak to think. It works. If I'm wearing comfortable shoes, I go by waiter attractiveness.

Tonight my feet hurt so bad that I ended up eating fried fish. The homely waiter gave me a menu in English but the way they translate these things it may as well be in Arabic. Some of them I can figure out like "salmonettes". That's probably little fillets of salmon. But then there's "clams to the sailors blouse". I asked Google and it was like "Don't you mean 'claims to the sailors blouse'?" and if Google doesn't know what it is, I don't want to know either. I thought I was playing it somewhat safe with "mixed fried fish" but I think I ate octopus.

Shopping can be difficult because there is a different store for practically every item you need. You want scissors? You need to go to the Scissoriá. It's only open every third Friday of every second month and you have to take three buses to get there. I'm exaggerating only slightly, I really did see a scissor store and it was closed.

When you order coffee here it is often served in a glass. This is perplexing. The glass is too hot to touch. I've resorted to slurping my coffee from a spoon. It's hard to look like a cool European this way. I can't write in my impressive black Moleskine with a spoonful of coffee in my hand. I look more like an impatient, rude American. Represent.

As I was wandering the streets of Cadiz, I was imagining I might run into somebody I know. It's nearly impossible but I'm not picky. I would be perfectly happy if a stranger stopped me and just pretended to be an old friend. They'd say God you look great, how long has it been? My, aren't we getting old but you'd never know it looking at your healthy body, your glowing skin, your handsome face. Oh, and that smile of yours just kills me! I could eat you up Chelsea Monty. What are you doing tonight? Do you want to have dinner with me and my impossibly good looking male friends? And I would say Well, I was supposed to keep wandering aimlessly but these male friends of yours sound impossibly good looking. Count me in you old so-and-so! And we would ride to the restaurant on my pony, the wind blowing through my long curly locks. The males would fight over who got to pay for my dinner. I would say Boys! Boys. You can all pay for all of my dinners from now on. And they would be grateful for the chance! We would dance through the plazas of Cadiz, all of the plazas, all of them! And my pony would live forever and guard the gate to my grave with ribbons and candy.

Okay so I sound crazy and lonely but praise be! I am really loving it here. Cadiz is beautiful. The weather is perfect. I'm within walking distance to the beach. The buses run regularly, the people are beautiful, and I haven't once looked in the mirror and said "I hate this place".

And the absolutely best part about Cadiz? Ben & Jerry's: The Restaurant. 5 page menu. This is the part in my life musical where I burst into song and dance. But really, I kind of teared up when I found this place. I was too emotional to eat there. I'll go back tomorrow with an empty stomach and a smashing routine that will have Judy Garland peeing in her little dead panties.