"That Used To Be One Of My Favorite Songs", My Travelogue To Spain, December of 2010: Day Five

Series Four, Volume Four:

Wednesday, January 26, 2011 at 8:50am:

DAY FIVE:

domingo 26 diciembre

On my way out the apartment gate that morning, there was a sign which caught my eye and I took a moment to translate. Next to an illustration of an accordion player was some very serious looking text which essentially meant, “DO NOT TOUCH! ENOUGH NOISE! DO NOT PAY THE BUSKERS (accordion players)!! Help us combat noise pollution in this neighborhood! Thank you for your cooperation.” Wow. Either the accordion players really, really sucked, or somebody had a deep seated grudge against them. I’ll bet there’s a long story there.

Since the bicycle was not really a good option, I couldn’t go GeoCaching because the large game sites were a hell of a long way away. Photography and souvenir hunting at the gypsy & Moroccan markets seemed like an interesting alternative and that kept me busy until Dad, Barb & Caitlin got up and texted me. Barb needed distilled water for her sleeping machine, so we ventured to the market and had one hell of a time trying to find this item. Even with the translator app on my phone, nobody seemed to understand and we were directed to the bottled water, a marble fountain outside, the bathroom, and ice trays.

Dad & Barb got frustrated and decided to take the groceries home, though I was fiercely determined not to be bested by a bottle of distilled water and began hunting throughout all three El Corte Inglés buildings on Calle Precípio. The South West building is kind of like a six story Best Buy and the South East building looked like a three story Barnes & Nobles or Borders. Finally, I got frustrated as well, and the guy at the info desk in the North West building directed me back downstairs nearby the supermercado section where they have a locksmith, dry cleaners, and a cleaning supplies section. Distilled water is considered a cleaning supply? What the fuck? After my mission was successful, I stopped and had a little snack at their café.Vino tinto, espresso, a plate of olives and a glass of water for € 3, very nice.

Back at the apartment, Dad was taking a nap and Barb and Caitlin were ready to go out again, so I did a 180º and we wandered the streets to the South of our neighborhood. Barb wanted to find some of the cathedrals Ramón told her were nearby and we visited the Iglesia San Sebastian first and then headed toward the Plaza Mayor and checked out the Museo Parroquial de Santa Cruz. Both are mammoth and impressive of course and we tried to figure out what time their services were but didn’t have any luck. After that, we strolled through the Plaza Mayor again and checked out the vendor stands.

We returned to the apartment and honestly, I could have used a little crash nap, but that wasn’t possible because I didn’t actually have a bedroom at our apartment for the week. My sleeping quarters were in the living room on the couch where everyone hung out during the day and watched TV or did whatever. I’m not a fan of TV, in fact I detest them, but this opinion is normally in the minority, so I drank, a lot, and spent a good deal of time on the terrace; incidentally, there a lot of pictures of our little street, Calle de Cadíz in my collection.

That night, we ventured out and found something really cool in the Plaza de Santa Ana. Nokia had set up a clear plastic tent-structure which looked kind of like a discotheque except there was no music, or none that we could hear. Anyway, it was filled with a lot of people dancing around having a hell of a lot of fun, so we investigated. Dad and Caitlin didn’t seem terribly interested at first, but Barb and I corralled them into the tent anyway. Two very pretty girls were at the entrance handing out wireless headsets linked to a DJ mixing music there. You didn’t have to pay anything, they just wanted people to come inside and generate electricity for the demonstration. The way that the participants generated electricity was by dancing on floor pads that lit up in proportion to the pressure of you dancing on them, and also by pedaling stationary bicycles in the corners that had pulse displays built into the back wheels. Very cool. We had a great time and acted very silly for a while and generated our share of electricity for the event.

The four of us wandered up Calle de Príncipe and stopped for tapas and drinks at a place on our street called Malaspina next to the Taberna. Nice place, amazing little yellow olives; I could have eaten jars of them. Caitlin had some delicious flan, and I ordered two tapas samplers for us. A little later, when Dad and Barb were ready to go upstairs to the apartment, I took care of the check and asked the waitress to box everything up, and her first response was to look at me like I’d just announced that I needed to fart. Apparently, it may be more of an American custom to take your food with you rather than eat it very, very casually; or maybe they just leave it, I don’t know.

Dad went to bed upon our return home, and Barb and Caitlin stayed up for quite a while that evening Skyping and watching TV. I headed to the terrace again for a drink and a smoke; the people-watching was always interesting. In addition to the street scene below, for the past few days, we’d noticed a young lady across the way, who enjoyed cleaning, cooking and milling about among her roommates completely topless with all the window shades open. I love Spain.

The novelty wore off after a day or two though and we simply became accustomed to Señorita Free-Show. Tonight was no exception; she was dancing around in a pair of shorts, mingling with the people in her apartment. I couldn’t tell if she didn’t see us across the way or just didn’t care; I suspected the latter. After a while, I turned my attention to the madness below because some guys looked like they were going to slug it out over some girl. That’s when the bedroom light came on across the way. Yay! Double feature!

Señorita Free-Show playfully yelled something into the other room and then closed the door as the two guys in the street went from yelling to poking each other in the chest. She continued dancing and grinding to herself and held up a few different outfits for inspection then wiggled out of her shorts. Below, the guys had now graduated from poking to shoving. Next, chiquita slid out of her bikini briefs and admired herself bare-ass naked in a mirror and for a few moments, my attention ricocheted between the two spectacles. Suddenly, the crowd below erupted in screaming and yelling and I saw that one of the guys had pulled out a knife. The spectators backed FAR AWAY because the knife-guy looked more pissed than skilled, swinging his blade wildly and screaming at the other guy and his girl. Taking another drag of my cigarette, I glanced up at Señorita Free-Show and saw her standing at the window glaring at me, full frontal nudity. Normally, I would have been both delighted and embarrassed; however that’s when I noticed the chiquita’s penis that was the size of a horse cock! I almost dropped my glass over the ledge into the street. That probably would have produced terrible consequences because at that point, the cops had arrived, approaching quickly from both sides of Calle Cadíz, and also the little side street, Calle de Barcelona. Chiquita yanked the shades closed in the bedroom and I took another long drag of my cigarette.

Around two in the morning, Barb & Caitlin were finally winding down, the fight below had been forcibly defused and Señor Free-Show across the way was fully dressed in the kitchen making food. I pulled out the hide-a-bed and crashed.