I am sitting at a bar, across from the bus station of Santiago de Compostela. I have my vino tinto in hand, hoping it serves as a sleep aid for the impending 10-hour bus ride I have ahead of me, the sad little sounds of the World Cup consolation match behind me. It's definitely time to go, but I was so happy with my choice to be here.
There was only one poster I saw around town advertising dancing at a club called NASA, on the northwest side of town, near the university. There was a lineup of about 7 bands, and it was supposed to start at 11 pm last night. I talked all the girls into going.
Constance wanted to go to a Villa Stellae event, which is a Xacobeo music festival that takes place all over town... concertos and such. It was at the Plaza de Abastos (where the local "farmers market" takes place during the day.) I had a cafe cortado doble at my favorite coffee shop called M* (one of the few places where I found WiFi, lots of newspapers and magazines) anticipating a long evening. The woman complimented my Spanish. Perhaps, this is why this place is my favorite.
I got to the market a little early. It's in the old town, which is basically a circular labrynth. I always have map in hand, as it's all the same color and I never really know where I am going. I wind up confused, and I emerge on the opposite side of town, now having to go back around the perimeter just to figure out how to get back. I get there 20 minutes late.
I am lucky that Constance is aggravated with not having found a seat, because I am completely disinterested in the music. It was a trio of sax, (clarinet?) and piano, and I think it was just CHEESY. I hear a lot of good jazz these days, and this just didn't cut it.
We are now 4 girls- Constance and Sonal (the other French girl at the school) and Dominique. Ironically, it was the French girls who had decided first that they were sick of speaking in Spanish, and would alternate between French and English. The poor Swiss-German girl looked like her head was going to explode all evening. Sonal asked me how I liked and found Santiago, as, she insinuated, that Americans were too stupid to find such a lovely little town and manage to enjoy it.
Man, do we have a shitty reputation.
We go to find this one particular spot. Turns out everyone is always as lost as I am. This was nice to discover. We somehow manage to pick up my housemate Jarred, and the two Austrians, have a drink and find out way to the north side of town.
It was 2 am by that point, and evidently in Santiago, when music is supposed to start at 11 pm, it actually does. Ugh.
So instead, we wind up at some dance club where I learn that Sonal is an EXCELLENT salsa lead, and I spend most of the night dancing whatever with her. The place was about half full with 17-year olds, as it's the only place in town for dancing that night and 17 year olds can drink in spain. I quit at about 4 in the morning.
I slept until about 2, with a brief pause at 11 in the morning for a much needed jamon serrano and cheese sandwich, after which I immediately went back to bed.
And then, I found the WiFi connection that my housemate had been talking about. RIGHT OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT. FML.
Justin and I had a really hard week connecting, because when he finished work, the internet place where there was Skype was closed, and when it was open, he was asleep. There was a very strong, peaceful spot right across the street, which I could have used all week, for free, without walking the 20 minutes, back and forth, up and down stairs and hills each time.
Well, at least my ass and thighs are thanking me. I guess the neighbors would have been pissed hearing me yell into my laptop in English every night. I guess everything happens for a reason.
I couldn't get the timing right to get back to the amazing Bodegon os Concheiros Pulperia on the corner. Man, that was some great pulpo. That's my only regret. Everything else was a pure delight.
No comments:
Post a Comment