A knocking had brought me crashing back from my lengthy day dream, and I realized just in time that I'd been expecting a visitor; A new friend I'd made along the way, who'd been eager to talk to a foreigner and learn something new. I grabbed a few stitches to throw on and answered the door, to the shock of my eyes, mal-adjusted for midday (my mosquito net had kept the rolling manor in half-light that I'd mistaken for the less intense morning sun).

I had long-ago abandoned all care of keeping time, waking and sleeping as and when I'd felt the urge, and happily adopting the mid-afternoon snooze in an attempt to fit in with my Spanish neighbors.

I poured tea from my impressive collection and we dealt cards and rattled about this and that for an hour or more, until my visitor had fancied a long walk. Personally, I had preferred to remain in the luxury of my docile mood and declined to join. I spent the next few hours watching the world go by, made a thick stew and slurped it casually from a camping bowl I'd acquired years earlier. It was appropriately decorated with tomatoes and basil, both of which were present in the current feast, and I made a mental note of it for some reason, as I watched the sun go down from the porch - legs dangled over the back bumper, doors wide open and nothing but time for company.

When night rolled around, I fed, watered and sat, soaking up the antics of happy people as a strict, but casual, observer. There was a gorgeous joy in their laughter that I hadn't heard anywhere else. They skipped and sang out loud in the streets, and smiled at you when you caught their eye. I loved them for their joy of life.

There are days where time stands still and the best way to enjoy them is to do the same.

A gang of cheeky Spaniards.