It's Not a Petting Zoo
This afternoon I decided to go up to the plateau formed by the hills that bisect our little peninsula. I haven't been up there in over a year and I had a yearning for a little solitude with the only sound of the wind and distant mooing of cows. The road up goes through a lookout point that overlooks all the Ría de Arousa, the bay that reaches inland where I live. When I got to the top it was wall-to-wall cars. None were local. Okay, not here. I continued along the road until the asphalt ran out and it became dirt and gravel. If our cars could talk about all the places we've put them through, they would shame a four-wheel drive. But the road is still quite good for a ways into the plateau. No dice. Solitude? In August? The tourists that weren't at the beach were all up there. Walking along the road. Hunkered in cars under pine trees. Throwing a frisbee to a dog next to a pristine stream. I decided to turn around and head home. Next month is my vacation month and I can ...