So, off we go. I wanted to grab breakfast at one last Andaluz cafetería before going home, but when i asked the hotel clerks it seems i had to book it to Granada or i would miss my flight. I took my first taxi of the trip and he told me a little about the history of Motril on the drive. It's a sugar town, the only one in Spain outside of the Canary Islands. I would have liked to stay longer, especially after being driven through the windy streets dotted with cafés and bars calling my name, pero no tengo tiempo :(
Fortunately i did get a very quick café con leche y tostada at the bus station. I hope the Granada bus station has a little more on offer than the train station, because i have about an hour there before i need to head to the airport (which truly has nothing to offer).
I gotta say, after being a doe-eyed fool when i first arrived here, i have finally gotten comfortable stumbling through conversations. This last day in Motril where aside from the hotel staff everyone babbled happily to me en español felt good.
-o-
The bus station sucks less than the train station. A couple of enterprising folks have opened bars right next to the bus to the airport. I got about 45 minutes to kill, which is perfect for 2-3 beers.
Ah, the magic of tapas you didn't order! No menu, i just got a salami on bread, then a tortilla, then a bacon tostada. Perfect. I already forgot when the bus leaves, but worst case i miss it and take another taxi. End of the holiday. Le sigh.
Well, the bus just left at 12.20. I had 12.40 in my head for some reason. I still have plenty of time. Oh well. Kinda don't wanna leave anyway. Blar, holiday.
