Sitting in front of palm trees, sunset over the beach, moon. Canadian guy playing his guitar. Other Canadian guy who helped get me back to normal life, talking last night about the ravages of our respective travels.

It was a shock to enter civilisation, especially the Costa del Sol. I read long ago that it is not as desireable a place to go as it used to be, due to massive construction of big and tacky houses all over the coast. It is quite ugly between Estepona and Malaga. English, Germans, and a mix of Europeans from everywhere else have invaded this area.

But Malaga city center and beach is heaven, at least in the winter. 23 degrees at 1 pm today.

Last night I collapsed into a wicker easy chair on the patio of the Melting Pot hostel. I couldn't handle talking to Peter, the Swede, and took only one look at Franco, the Torontonian and said Hola, and judged him to be a safe enough person to sit in the vicinity of without being bothered. To be quite honest, what I have just been through has been somewhat traumatising, for several reasons: Homayoun's character and criticism, the harshness of life there (made more difficult by his attitude of challenge to those who come "let's see if you have it in you, tonto city person!") and the remoteness.

I am somewhat turned off rural life, though this was an extreme. The other problem is that I continue thinking, possibly stronger than before, that it is ethically, as well as strategically one of very few wise choices as to how to live these days.

Be that as it may, I feel in the lap of luxury in this 10 bed mixed dorm, with clean sheets and some manner of blanket not mired in dust and sweat, soap in the washroom.