Nothing special this week. The World Cup came to an end without me watching any of the games–I had no interest in looking at Trump’s shitshow. But of course I realise that I was in a tiny minority, especially here in Spain, a country whose national team ended up winning the whole thing.
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I start with a couple of morning beach walks:
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As I said, I boycotted the World Cup but of course I looked for its signs in the neighbourhood:
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In Spain, when an important game is on, the normal way to watch it is with friends in a bar, not at home. Here, people are getting ready for the Spain-France semifinal at my local bar The Place:
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A couple of days later, I walked to The Place again, with Mochi. If he has not pooped during the 500 or meters from my house to the bar, I take him across the street to make sure he relieves himself before we go for our beer:
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I am by no means the only person with a dog at The Place:
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But my Mochi is the prettiest dog of them all:
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Close to our 1970s house there is a new neighbourhood called PAU5 with expensive apartments, and new ones still going up:
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A beautiful object seen during a walk:
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About 100 m from my house there is a small square named after the Swedish prime minister Olof Palme, assassinated in 1986. It is just a tiny park with a playground in the centre. One morning I saw a couple sleeping there. I guess this is a way to visit Alicante on the cheap:
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A bit further down the street, a small restaurant boasts of its linguistic skills:
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Saturday afternoon I went to see an exhibition of paintings by a local artist called Pamblanco. They were nice and colourful but frankly speaking, I was not that impressed:
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No week is complete without cats:
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I’m not sharing:
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Sunday afternoon, a local bar getting ready for the World Cup final between Spain and Argentina:
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There are many Argentines living here, so this is probably a case of split loyalties, or maybe hedging his bets:
