Knife-less Vagabonds

While hanging laundry out on Renato’s line this morning, I stumbled through a conversation with a Spaniard almost successfully.

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Henry and I separated for some time today.  I wandered over to the close by coffee shop where I tried to write and catch up on emails and think about what else we wanted to do on the trip.  The two of us have struggled recently with each others facial expressions; having spent two months in constant contact, we’ve learned to read and catch every single facial move.  The slightest tick is caught and starting to cause us some stress, especially in regards to travel plans.  While I was working I got a Facebook message from Henry asking about dates and trains and over the course of twenty minutes or so, we had successfully planned a trip to Valencia.  Any looks, sighs or inclinations of stress could be expressed without halting plans.  We’ve decided that’s the new best way to plan—away from each others faces.

Joyed at our success, we met up again and wandered about the city.  We found this nativity with a ginger Jesus, Mary and Joseph and had we had any room in our luggage, I think I would have gotten them for Henry and his very gingery brother.

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Starving, as we often find ourselves in Spain, we decided to stop trying restaurants and went to a few grocery stores where we acquired a hunk of cheese, some meat and a baguette.  With no knife and no place to sit, we had to improvise.

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We must have been a sight: two tall tourists trying to use a broken plastic knife, eating our hunks of food greedily on the steps outside a seemingly unoccupied building.  We clearly need some practice.  Or a better knife.

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