Salitre had by default become our haven of refuge late at night after leaving the festival grounds and catching a cab back to Oropesa Del Mar. A small bar that reminded me of backpacker...
Worn down, but not worn through by the previous days events we headed to the festival site at 6pm after a lazy day of picnics on hotel steps and the ever-present sea glowing blue...
Spain, often synonymous with salmon-skinned Brits out on the piss with their shorts dragging around their ankles and half a pint of beer spilled over their head by their friend "Derek" who is cacking...
