Coín, Spain and more friends

Today, I drove MINI Lola to a town about twenty miles away, where Lyn introduced me to her friend Patrícia, who prefers to be called Tricia...and her husband, Michael.  The road was smooth until I turned on the dirt road that led to their beautiful home where the mountains and view from the back patio took my breath away.  They are also English, like Lyn, and I had to listen carefully for their accents were all three a bit different.  They had a sweet love story to tell and their camaraderie made me smile.

With promises of a swim in their glorious swimming pool when we returned, Michael drove us to a hidden gem of a restaurant high in the hills called Finca la Mota, where we enjoyed a late lunch about 3:30, with tinto verano for me (🍷) and beer and cider for the others.  The smoked salmon was delicious with the crispy, tiny potato fries grilled into a birds nest of a patty.  The plate included a small bowl of something white.  Mayonnaise?  I slipped the tip of my fork into the creamy tub and had a surprise.  Horseradish!!

As it usually is in Spain, every meal is served at leisure, slow and easy as Roberto used to say.  No rush anywhere and again, as usual, we had to request the tab to pay our bill.  The relaxing atmosphere and soft-spoken servers added magic to the meal and our conversation never wavered.

I was surprised when I got up to see the restaurant patio was empty, when every table had been filled with people just a few minutes earlier.  Time sped by.

And then true to their promised, Lyn and I changed into our swimsuits (swimming costume as Lyn calls it) and then we were in the pool.  Queen palms and other strategically placed palms and flowering bushes added to the ambience.  One of the steps extended along the back pool wall to create a bench.  “To drink at the pool,” Michael suggested.

The time got away from us and Lyns dogs, Scamp and Scally, would be hungry.  So, a quick stop on the drive home, Lyn guided me around several roundabouts to a gas station.  Just as I did in Arizona, I slid my credit card into the slot, punched all the buttons and then the machine asked for a PIN number. For a credit card?  After three tries, Lyn found an attendant who led me to a machine that looked like an ATM.  I slid in a 10 euro note, fed Lola some gas and off we went.

Tomorrow, I will meet my friend Miguel Alba Trujillo so he can help me go through the archive books looking for Rafael Garcia Villarrubia, one of my ancestors, in Rincon de la Victoria, on the east side beyond Malaga.  That’s why I wanted to practice driving Lola today.  I intend to be sly and ask Miguel to help me fill her gas tank, but this time I’ll use my debit card.  Many new things to learn because I seem to have forgotten since my last visit!