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Picasso really got around, including geographically. He was born in Málaga, and before Barcelona, Madrid, Paris, the south of France, and I forget where else, he lived in Galicia in A Coruña. I didn't really mean to come to A Coruña; I didn't want to come to Galicia at all until I walk here next month on the Camino de Santiago. But to get from northern Portugal to Spain by bus or train, the options are Galicia or Madrid. I sure as hell wasn't going to Madrid, so I opted for A Coruña because it's on the water and you'd think there would be Picasso stuff here since he lived here. There is a little museum in the house where his family lived, but visits are by appointment only and never on Sunday. Joder. But it was okay. A Coruña juts into the water in all directions and it was warm and sunny so I walked and walked and walked.

I like ports; I think they're beautiful and romantic in a way that most other industrial sites can't pull off. After the boats and cranes and containers, the Coruñan coast gets all rugged and rocky and green and kinda looks like Ireland, except for the naked guy sunning himself on a rock and the fact that the sun was even shining. Then it gets beachy. It's not the nicest beach, but there are pieces of something in the sand that make it look full of diamonds the way some sidewalks do, and sun shinking on water always looks nice. Walking on the beach I accidentally went too deep and got my pants all wet, but it was okay. I have to be pretty content to not mind wearing wet jeans.

It's nice to feel like I (kind of) speak the right language again, although I accidentally asked for cerveja (Portuguese) instead of cerveza (Spanish) when ordering a beer, and I keep catching myself wanting to say obrigada instead of gracias for thank you. I learned the important Portuguese words, anyway. And Galicia is in Spain, so they speak another language in addition to Castilian Spanish. Gallego is a lot like Portuguese, so maybe my mistakes will just make me blend in.