My plan was to wake up, go the beach for a few hours, take the bus back up to Granada, meet up with a spanard that I met who mountain bikes-and go for a ride, then take the train to Madrid so I can head up to north of Spain for the Santiago Camino pilgrimage trail. As I was headed out of my pension in my bathing suit and cover-up, peanut butter in hand so I can have a partially balanced breakfast with toast, fruit, and coffee; Jose M Perez the pension´s owner, chased me down so he could get me some coffee and tostada. Again, this is a great offer for a girl on a budget. I sit alone with Jose (or Pepe) in the Bar section of his ocean front pension with balcony views, questionable bed linens, and lack of hot water. He begins to ask me about my travels in very...very... broken english. I try to answer in my very...very broken spanish. I tell him that I am riding my bicycle and I am going to santiageo. His aged eyes became wide, his face all smiles, the excitement was overcomming him. He wanted to tell me all about it...well in spanish..but could not find the words in english. He only was picking at his forarm and saying "muchas buento-mushas buento". I get that he was tring to tell me that it is so beautiful that it will give me goose bumps. He then began to point at him self and say that he did santiago camino on the bicycle.
He then took me over to a case on the wall that had dozens of books incased behind the glass. All had his name on them with his picture. It looks like my friend Pepe was a author. I come to find out that Pepe the Pension owner, retired ship engeneer, world travel, has written 20 books and has 5 that he is working on, he lifes on a boat in the winter, and has riden over 1200 km on his bicycle when he was 50 years old from the very bottom of spain up to santiago that is located in the far north West. Amazing man. I showed him my BLOG, and he said he wants to write a story about me.
During my breakfast with Pepe, I met a man from California that was also eating the breakfast of spanish champions, toast and coffee. He invited me to travel with him to the striaght of Gibralter. It was a easy decision, so I called my friend in Granada and told him I had a change of plans and headed west with Jon my new travel companion.
Traveling by car for the first time in 5 weeks was a welcomed change. No crowded train stations, sticky train seats, little bathrooms with no toilet paper, no confusion. I just sat there prentending to be the co-pilot. As we headed toward Gibraltar, I see now why they call it the rock of Gibralter. Yep..it is a big rock.
A british colony, as you walk through the boarder controll, the language become english, the food becomes fish and chips, and the people are white-really white. Well I will get to the good part,the monkies!!!! WE TOOK A VAN TOUR UP TO THE TOP TO SEE THE MONKIES, I thought I was goign to see a zoo type building with caged monkies...I was wrong. These little suckers that were brought over from Africa (which I can see) 
have taken over the place. They are everywhere. They are use to people. If you bring food they will sit on your head and put ther little monky butts on your face and clean your hair.
One actaully took my pearl earing and broke my necklace off my neck. I got it back with tempting the little theif with bubble gum.
and yes mom , I was tring to figure out a way to bring one home with me.
Amore, Katelyn
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