Antequera

This past weekend my grandpa took me to the town of his birth, Antequera, a small town about 45 minutes from where we live, Rincón de la Victoria. He picked me up at about 9 AM, and he drove me to a cafe where we had churros with hot chocolate. After that, we drove for another 30 minutes to Antequera. What I realized was that in Antequera, about 60% of the buildings were convents for nuns. It's actually pretty cool, during Christmas season they sell these pastries called polvorenes and mantecados for money, they're really good, but kind of expensive. So we visited a couple of really pretty churches and convents, bought some polvorones and mantecados, and we went to the downtown area. There, we saw the hospital that my grandpa was born in, the house that my grandpa lived in, and a lot of really nice houses with huge indoor patios. Then we went to a seminary, but not any old seminary, the seminary of the Capuccinos, the men that went out to colonize America. But unfortunately, we only got to see the outside of it, because the chapel visiting hours were over. By that time, it was about 1 PM, so my grandpa realized that we still had time to visit his friend who's in a nursing home in the next town over. So we drove over there, which took us about 20 minutes, and finally we arrived in the beautiful old town. We then walked along the cobblestone streets until we arrived at the surprisingly very modern resting home, where my grandpa's childhood friend was staying. We walked in, and we found his friend in the smoking room, with a small handheld radio clutched to his ear. He was listening to the winning numbers for the lottery. He recognized Pepe right away, and then Pepe introduced me to him.We talked with him for a while, and then he told my grandpa that he had just won the lottery. He was obviously losing it because that's what happens to old people. My grandpa played along with it, asking him what he's been doing with all the money, and the man responded that he had bought himself a red Ferrari from Italy, and today, he bought himself and expensive Cuban cigar. I thought it was kind of sad that he honestly thought that he had won the lottery, but I guess he's happy, so it's okay. So we left the nursing home and drove over to another tiny village, Casabermeja, where we ate the best migas in the world, from my grandpa's friend Frasquito. Migas are the white part of the bread, the soft part, but fried, and served with chorizo, lomo(pork), and a fried egg. Then with our stomachs full, we drove another 45 minutes home. Ah what a day!