Curious young village boys

Piedrabuena, 29 Oct. 2012.

Just another small dusty hamlet in the midlle of nowhere, scores of kilometers south of the Spanish capital, where my underwear from the day before hanging from the handlebars of my Kross bicycle as well as my spair couple of socks - I wash them in the sink of the toilets of the bars where I have my morning Cafe Con Leche and then tie them to my bike´s handlebars so they can dry in the wind for use of yet another day - is attracting unwelcome attention by the village soccer playing youngsters, hurrying over to have a serious look-see at this crazy Gringo who must be so poor he travels the world on a muddy Bicicleta...I strech out the rain soaked pair of knickers just to amuse them, have after all been young and curious myself once long ago, before entering yet another local bar for much needed early morning coffee, leaving a bunch of highly entertained village Niños behind, probably more entertainment as they normally get all week.

Dark latino eyes belonging to mostly elderly men drinking copious amounts of red wine judging by the number of empty Vino bottles strewn around tables and lean-tos, maybe Spain is being hit hard by the European crisis but that is hardly noticable here where rural social life is still inside the bar and not back home in front of the telly watching Rajoy trying deperately to explain the country´s latest round of austerity´s measures....and anyway, every bar in these god forsaken Pueblos seem to sport at least one big flatscreen TV. Like I said crisis or not!!!

Nobody paying me much attention compared to the young Barca Aficionados outside, the way is should be, an ancient computer in a dark corner perfect for reaching access to the internet again, slow as it might be...

Back outside my newly found Barca friends are still admiring my Kross and all the crap tied on top of it, probably wondering what that huge load of garbage contains...my tent, my blanket falling to pieces, bicycle repair stuff and dirty spare clothes...I will tell them when I get back out of this dirty, empty sugarbags strewn and wine invested boozers bar...