tapas

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Old world tortillas

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Old world tortillas

Bob returned and plopped down on the bench. In his hands were two packages of aluminum foil.

“Check this out! His eyes were bright.

We unwrapped the silver treasures. They were warm and smelled wonderful.

“Tortilla de patatas,” Bob announced with flair.

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There's a Mike in Logroño

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There's a Mike in Logroño

Bob and I walked into Logroño, a bustling city on the banks of Río Ebro. Wheels screeched. Music blared. People hollered. Buildings of steel and glass rubbed against their stone counterparts. It was a mix of the modern and the medieval, a blend of Spain’s yesterday and today.

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He played at the piano to keep warm

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We arose and followed the forested trail into a tidy town. It was known as Burguete, or Auritz in the Basque tongue. The sun was also rising. Most everyone else was slumbering though, save a small cat that offered Bob and me a generous welcome. This self-appointed mayor circled, arched, and rubbed in as cats often do when the air is full of breakfast.