I was coming out of the Santander bank (a Spanish bank) just up from one of my favourite restaurants, El Barracuda, when I fell into the road and scraped my leg from knee to ankle. I was bleeding like a stuck pig and my heart sank that I was in a part of town that was not close to a hospital. This brings up two subjects, walking and banking, neither of which I am proficient at.
First let us talk about walking in this favourite city of mine. If you live anywhere but the Malecon or a main road, you . . .