...seeing as Cath asked!

Lovely to hear from you Cath. I'm not saying you made the right or wrong decision, but I most definitely am not looking for parties - however, as I sit on a hammock not in Granada, I might as well be. The party across the bay (via a suspension bridge) is filling the whole area with its reggaeton disco. And that's a fine thing.

Granada was in many ways like Cartegena and Iquitos. All three have colonial and colonialist overtones. At the end of the day that means lovely architecture, posh options, cheap drinks and fat Texans. The latter get everywhere, hoovering up desperate young women and owning the place. To be fair Iquitos was the worst by far of these and Cartegena and Granada can both hold their own in resisting the worst aspects of overbearing gringos with a few quid and an unhealthy libido.

Still, I found the idiots on my last night, although it was offset by suitably respectful young westerners and tolerant locals.

Did I mention that Granada is a handsome town. Thoroughly handsome. The last town I was in that was that handsome was Hilltown. I shall miss it. Not as much as Cartegena, as I was there for a month, but there's a hole already.

On the oddness. I met a bloke in Granada (Philadelphia, PA) who appeared to be in a 'situation'. Don't want to say too much as it's his business, but he had got himself in something of a pickle that I couldn't get him out of. Following a chance meeting in the day, he waited for me outside my hotel and then regaled me with his story in two lengthy parts. At the end of the day, he appeared to be a lonely man seeking acceptance in a foreign place, but I don't think he was finding it. A useful message when I eventually settle on somewhere post 60...

It was really quite sad leaving Granada. However, any lachrymose notions were soon put to bed by some utterly annoying people sharing my transport to the next place. I have good German friends and have always had excellent times in Germany, but these arrogant fools did not put their country people in a good light. Shouldn't there be a system of making dickheads in some way stateless, so no-one had to consider themselves xenophobic when silently wishing their end of this earth. By coincidence it was the same driver as a few days earlier going in a different direction.

His name is Victor.