We spent most of this day on a tour of southern Spain. We meandered through the countryside, passing through several small towns. We stopped to admire the view from a "mirador," that is, a scenic overlook:
...and to look at Presa de Rules, a large dam:
We spent some time in the little town of Frigiliana:
Terry and Salvi parked themselves at a cafe, while Juan Carlos and I went walking up the street. And I do mean "up" - the town is built on the side of a hill, and it was uphill all the way. Here are some pictures I took along the way - note the intricate patterning of the cobblestones in the street:
At the highest point, we came to this church:
The church had an impressive altar:
...and in one of the side alcoves, this statue of Jesus carrying the cross on the way to Calvary, and below that, the heads of the twelve apostles.
(Actually, I doubt that Jesus was wearing that royal purple robe when He carried the cross. Oh well, call it artistic license.)
I was also impressed by the church doors:
Notice the inscription above the doors - here's a closeup:
"Made by Bartolome de la Cruz in the year 1859." I like a man who signs his work.
We walked back down to meet up with Salvi and Terry, and I stopped along the way to buy some local honey rum - that's right, rum with honey - as gifts for friends back home.
In my trip log of our trip to Spain in 2012, I commented about the number of expat Brits who live in the south of Spain, and I was reminded of that here in Frigiliana. Walking the streets, I heard as many British accents as I did Spanish ones.
We stopped for lunch at a restaurant on the shores of the Mediterranean:
One of the things we ate was a plateful of roasted sardines, and as we walked through the parking lot going back to the car, I took this picture:
Sardines roasting on an open fire
In the afternoon, after we drove back to Dúrcal, I went out for another walk, and stopped into a grocery store for a soda. When the young man at the cash register realized I was an American, he got all excited and started peppering me with questions - where was I from, where was I staying, when was I going back, etc. He appeared to be delighted to have a chance to practice his English.
That evening, we went to visit Jorge and Mercedes, friends of Salvi and Juan Carlos:
Jorge is a luthier - that is, he makes guitars. We visited his workshop, and then sat down to food and socializing. They have a brick oven in the back yard:
The Spanish people seem to have a national obsession with ham. Not the kind you get at your local deli; Spanish ham is heavily cured, sliced paper thin, and has a chewy texture. At Spanish restaurants and tapas bars, you'll often see an entire pork leg - hoof and all - mounted on a rack, and they'll cut off slices and hand them to you. I saw examples of this on our 2012 trip. But I never knew until now that some people have these same mounting racks in their homes:
My apologies to any vegetarians in my audience.
After dinner, they asked me to play some of Jorge's guitars, and I played about half a dozen songs, on two or three different guitars. I was rather embarrassed when they asked me (with Terry interpreting, of course) which guitar I liked best, and I had to admit that they all seemed about the same to me.