...is the way of life in Andalucía. It means, more or less, "don't worry about it, nothing happened, whatever..." A people less worried than Andalusians may be hard to come by.
So, as a picture's worth a thousand words,
stories from Castaras:
My bed
Annie's bed
Bar hopping. There were two in Castaras.
Breakfast! There are no stores in Castaras but men that deliver food by truck.
We love the bread man.
False advertising. It took us 3 hours. But then, I guess we scaled a couple mountains on the way.
This water runs through the village fountains, but we drank it straight from under that rock.
Us. From the left, Annie, Leigh, Me, Katie.
Me with a tree branch seemed to be a running theme on the trip.
Sorry everything's underlined. I can't get rid of it.
Strange foliage.
Being lame!
This is Leigh after we slid down a mountain, and I could not understate "slid down a mountain" any more. But that was my bright idea.
We made it to Notaez...We made it to Notaez...I can't believe we made it to Notaez
Kind of like Eden.
Katie tried to pet it. It wasn't having it.
Notaez!
We must've passed this flock of sheep like, 10 times. The shepherd gave no directional help. I think he might've been laughing at us.
"And Castaras would be back that way."
We made a friend.
Lost again. And giving up.
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