Dear Diary . . . day by day

Thursday, May 25th - Spain, continued (finally)
Gemini's
- The English Bar where the travellers gather on market day
Exercise log:
Hah. Here's the previous installment of the Spain story, if you need a refresher. If you'd like to, feel free to start at the beginning of the Spain story.
Gemini's was an experience. Tucked away in the little Spanish town of Orgiva, the waitstaff consisted of several British women, and the clientele mostly of British hippies. Holly and I wove our way through the bar, through the patio covered with bamboo matting for a ceiling, up to the tables perched above the bathrooms at the end of the patio area. Holly fetched a pitcher of beer, warning me "this'll probably be the only one we buy". It was.
We were soon joined by various and sundry travellers. Children with adorable British accents swarmed around us on their sugar highs, hiding behind our chairs for protection while they devoured their "sweets" (we'd call it candy here in the States).
I went and ordered us each an "English brekkie", and while I was at the bar, I met Johnny. I'm too immediately suspicious of people, so when he asked if we could swap hats (I was wearing this light blue thing I'd bought in Barcelona and he was wearing an embroidered Indian cap) I said no. One thing Rainbow folk are famous for is lice, and I was keen on avoiding that experience. The British bartender was disappointed, "what? you're not going to swap then?" Johnny was very friendly, and ended up joining us at our table soon after this, where I finally relaxed and got to know him.
Johnny liked me. He asked me to join him in Jamaica, telling me sincerely, "You're the kind of queen a king would be proud to bring back to his country." As the beer flowed, I became quite drunk, and I laughed and chattered with everyone who came by. I felt a part of the network of travellers, and I eagerly listened to every new story, each one set in a different remote part of the world. Holly spoke about Egypt, Johnny about India. There was a Scottish bloke there named Andy who had a caustic wit which tickled me in my intoxicated state. It took me awhile to trust him - he liked to pick on word choice and give people a hard time, and this got worse as he got drunker, but I finally let my guard down around him and enjoyed his company.
Johnny told us about Cordova - another town in Andalucia, about the size of Granada or Seville (ok, a little smaller, but on that same "circuit"). He was heading there next - Andy was his ride - because it was one of the few places people didn't seem to notice his skin color. Holly and Johnny compared hitchhiking notes, and of course, Johnny had a hell of a time travelling that way. "People are suspicious of a black man, here, anywhere." he told us. I guess India was one of the worst places for him, which always surprises me. You'd think it was all just different shades of the same brown, but no - it all depends on how light your skin is. How annoying - light skin sucks, anyway, as it's much more susceptible to all sorts of skin diseases, not to mention sunburns and skin cancer. Anyhow - Johnny told us the people in Cordova were friendly and that he was welcome in the bars there and had a great time chatting with the bartenders who didn't notice his skin color. He was leaving that day.
I'm very sorry I didn't get some sort of contact info for Johnny. He was truly a good, kind soul.
Andy managed to insult me horribly not too long after this, but popping off a little ditty he'd just made up, "She's my sister . . . she's a little bit overweight. She's my sister, she's a bit fat but still pretty so it's ok . . "
I, of course, was horrified.
Poor Holly tried to distract me. "Listen to this song I wrote while walking here this morning:
Gonna make me a garden
Gonna make it real big
Gonna make me garden
Gonna make it real big
Gonna give ev'ry body
Tomatoes from my garden
Gonna give ev'ry body
Lav'n'der-rosemary-thy-yme
Gonna give ev'ry body
Ganja from my garden
Gonna give ev'ry body
A tiny little piece of me - oh!
It goes on, but I'd already burst into tears over what Andy had said. I was thinking, "Oh, I wanna hear Holly's song but all I can think of is what that asshole just said about me . . . "
He totally killed my mood. Thinking back on it, I wonder why I didn't just tell him to sod off - that's what everyone (including Andy) was begging me to tell him at the time. But I was devastated. I had been feeling so confident and pretty - especially with Johnny's attentions - and he totally undermined that. Ok, well, I let him. But I was too drunk, and I'd let my defenses down around this guy.
Andy left soon after, without a word. He felt like an ass - claimed he didn't even remember what he'd said. Johnny - who didn't hear what he'd said - tried to comfort me, but had to trail after Andy, who was his ride. That's how I lost track of Johnny, who I looked around for a bit when Holly and I were in Cordova later, but never saw again.
On that happy note, I'll pause. Next up: Hitchiking into Beneficio.
I'm currently reading:
Foundation by Issac Asimov

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