Living in Zamora took a little getting used to. Having come from a culture which is sometimes a little 'go! go! go!' it was strange to find plenty of spare time. I used to work from 4-9pm Monday to Thursday and 4-8pm on a Friday... At first, I was bordering on depressed. I just couldn't fathom having so much time to myself and would find myself crying at the traffic lights for no reason or sleeping for long periods of time but slowly and surely, I started to read more, started to take long walks and realised that it was ok to visit the same cafe as much as four times in one day. My mother used to say to me when I was a child that my biggest problem was that I always expected to be entertained. Well, Zamora ironed that out of me AND gave me some lovely pictures from my long walks on a Sunday, before church let out and all the people would come swarming into the city filling it with warmth.
Zamora is big on its baked goods...
With haunting buildings in disrepair, hinting at a decadent past, now faded...
Never in need of a hat...
And friends to smile at.
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