Consuegra, Castilla-La Mancha
Unlike the other drivers on the same line, this one was not sporting a uniform. He arrived late, drove off rapidly, and was unable to confirm whether the bus actually stopped at the destination listed on my ticket. All of this left me wondering if he had high-jacked the bus. The driver was not beyond the illegal; five minutes into journey he was already chattering away on his cell phone.
I leaned my head against the window and thought about why I was risking my life. I wanted to see a windmill.
Considering that I was so near the land of Cervantes—and that I used to live on Windmill Street—I had done very little of that famous Spanish pastime, windmill gazing. When this thought entered my head two weeks ago, I was struck with the quixotic desire to see some twirly arms ASAP. I immediately drew up a plan to visit Consuegra, a town famous for these very structures. What better place to take a solo trip, I thought, than to a stark landscape with solitary buildings?