The Pillars of Hercules

We have bid farewell to Europe.

Lee and I caught a before-dawn train from Granada to Algeciras - this requires a herculean effort in a country where the dinner hour begins at 10pm - and crossed the Straits of Gibraltar in the cocktail lounge of a huge, once-luxurious ferry boat.

We have now arrived in grey, rainy Tangiers, and checked into the Hotel El-Muniria. It was in room #9 of the El-Muniria, in about 1958, that William S. Burroughs wrote Naked Lunch.

I will write more later - after a week spent with my aunt, uncle and cousins hanging out in Madrid and in Covaleda, the small Castillian village where my uncle was born, there are many stories to tell.

But right now, I'm tired, and I'm having some dificulty navigating this bizarre French keyboard. So you'll all just have to wait.