Fino and olives

This is my table in the square of the Archeology museum. It was late afternoon and I could see a school party inside the entrance to the museum and as it was late, I thought I'd return tomorrow. It's one euro fifty to get in, but free to members of the European Union, so take your passport. It's worth doing that anyway to all the museums in case.
I'm feeling more at home here by the hour as I get to know the way around the winding streets and speak a little more spanish all the time. Confidence in that is growing.
I've been wondering what opportunites are like for young spaniards here, but have seen a dance school and a college for arts and a youth scheme, and of course there's music and all the usual opportunities, many ride scooters and english is compulsary in schools and some have private lessons. Over the following days I see evidence of this.
And the spaniards here, body wise, fairly short in general, strong, good sized bums, many are attractive, some, like everywhere, look as though life is tough too.
Feel relaxed with my fino and dish of olives. The sun is dappling the buildings. It is warm. The people in the bar were great and after I'd ordered at the bar, brought my goodies outside to one of the little tables. Birds are flying around, the trees are full of oranges, a man is sitting on the steps as his son runs around.
The road leading to this square is 'Horno del Cristo. I'm writing in my diary, keep looking up at the glowing light and shadows. Loving it. Going to leave soon, but don't want to, hoping the barman will come and bring me another glass, maybe order a tapas, but the television and conversation inside must be too good to leave and I'm too lazy to go back in and this is lovely and enough anyway. Slow wander back. A woman tries to give me a sprig of rosemary, but I say I'm not cooking, she takes my palm, but I don't want it read, she asks for a cigarette, but I don't smoke so have none.
Wander back the way I came that morning, satisfied with day, looking forward to the next.