While I am sitting on this balcony full of plants that impale buckets of soggy soil, I sip my café con leche. I have neglected this journal and that is surely a pity, as many bizarre things have occured between the last entry and this one. They will be lost in time like, um, never mind.
Today we go to TORLA.
The village named Torla reminds me (in name, only) of Tuzla. There are obvious connections here and if you cannot, at a glance, recognize them, then you will surely die the flame death. Marisa and I originally planned it a few days prior as a trip for two. Our journey from Monzón in one of those silly apparati called a car was to include vistas of lakes snaking through valleys directing a path to the Pyranees. Torla is in the Pyranees.
Moreover, we are travelling with the family. Paco, Mary Jose, David and Juan shall accompany us on this trek. Perhaps trek is the incorrect word since we shall only be walking once we arrive to Torla.
Yesterday, whilst Marisa and Mary Jose were away in some Satan-forsaken village at a local witch doctor (or warlock doctor - take your pick), I had a grand time with Paco and David (the eldest son) convincing their printer to print from Paco’s IPad (DAMN Apple products and all who use them to the inferno that is the Monegros Desert. Speaking of which, and leaping from topic to topic like a flying squirrel leaps from human appendage to human appendage, much to the consternation of Marisa, during our drive from Logroňo to Monzón, I directed, being the fantistic navigator that I am, us through the most feared desert in Aragón on roads narrow and in Marisa’s opinion, treacherous. She wasn’t exactly angry, but the frustration showed clearly in the crooks of her visage. The episode allowing the printer to function from all of our phones, as well, was saturated with hilarity. You bet it was, you cunt.
Cunt.
Coňo.
The family uses this latter word with abandon. And when I say family, this includes the grandparents. Like all overused words and phrases, it has lost its meaning and is as harmless as leper or impalation.
I shall resume this plodding series of words once we return from Torla. `
