Yesterday I did some shopping. Okay yeah, maybe a little bit too much shopping, but still I'm happy with my purchases. I started off by spending some of the accumulated change that I had on some 0.05cent candies at this candy store I have been going to. I bought an ungodly amount of candy and the lady behind the counter actually laughed a little bit when I came up to the counter to pay.
After that, I walked around and tried to haggle with a number of the African street vendors to get this Barcelona soccer jersey. Barcelona played Juventus last night in the championship match of the UEFA Champions League, so I figured I'd buy a cheap jersey and feel a little bit more a part of the game. I heard that the jerseys get sold for around 5 euro through the Spanish news channel on our TV in the apartment, and I wanted to pay that much. Apparently, I must have heard that wrong (probably because my Spanish listening skills are still not the best), because when I tried to offer 10 euro for a jersey, each consecutive African would shoot me down. They have a pretty interesting lifestyle, and I want to learn more about them before I leave. They cannot legally sell things on the street, so they have all of their goods set up on these white towels with cords ingeniously wired through the outside of the towel. They do this so that when the cops come their way, they can snatch up all their goods in one swift motion and run off. After realizing that I wasn't going to get the deal that I originally intended for, I began to raise my offers. I walked up to this one after getting shut down, and he spotted a cop as I was trying on the jersey. He took me down an alley way and I wondered what would happen if I just walked off towards the cop without paying. I didn't make any risky moves however, because I'd rather not get killed over a 20 euro soccer jersey.
After the game, we met up with some of the girls in our program and headed out to a bar in the Tribunal district. My friend Matteo suggested that I try a drink called a Yayo at a specific bar in the district and when we got there it was packed. Apparently this drink is a trademark kind of thing at this bar, Casa Camacho, because no other bars make them. The bouncer told us that we couldn't enter when we arrived and as we were walking away to find another bar, we hear the man yelling at us from down the street. A group of people had just walked out and there was now space for us to go in.
Salud! (Cheers!)
We met some new Spanish friends named Juan and Alvaro who were from Pomplona. I asked them if they ever ran with the bulls (because Pomplona is the infamous town that holds the running of the bulls), but they said that only the drunk idiots do that. We all enjoyed our Yayos until the bar closed at 2 AM. Afterwords, Juan bought a bunch of beers off another kind of illegal street vendor. With the economic situation that is going on here in Spain, roughly 25% of the population is out of work. One way people make money is by buying six-packs of beers and selling them individually for 1 euro on the street late at night. Before Juan popped his beer, I suggested we drink them in an American fashion (he was fascinated with everything American). I told him to wait as I popped the beers open at the bottom so that we could all do a shotgun together. He was giddy like a little kid after he figured out what we were going to do, because he had never done it before and had heard so much about it. It was funny to see such a big dude acting like that.
All of us guys shotgunned our beers and afterwards, Alvaro told me what they call this in Spain. He said that they call it Hidalgo which he translated as "a motherfucker who lifts something" (sorry for the profanity, but these guys really liked to use their limited knowledge of English curse words) I wrote that down in my iPhone so I wouldn't forget it and then showed them how it is basically defined in America. Shotgun- the act of drinking a beer very fast through a hole in the side of the can. We all laughed and then headed out to a discoteca to dance.
At the discoteca, I met the most beautiful girl I have ever talked to in my life. Her name was Maria. I don't know what it is about alcohol and language, but you could have sworn I was from Spain the way I was just spitting out the words without a second thought. A lot of people were asking if I was from Barcelona because of my jersey; I got some good reactions as well as some bad ones because Real Madrid and Barcelona are huge rivals. You could say the locals weren't too keen on my attire for the most part. This girl thought it was funny however, because I told her I only bought it to watch the game on TV. After talking with Maria for awhile, I had to tell her goodbye and regroup with my friends before we headed home.
Before we made the long walk back to the apartment, we had to get a photo with our new friends Alvaro (left) and Juan (right). During the walk home, we were approached by some prostitutes, but we quickly shut them down. I know I will remember this trip for my entire life already, I don't need an STD as a reminder. However, we did fall influence to McDonalds on the way home.
It was a great night out on the town and I owe so much of it to my friends that I have met here in Spain, Matteo, Alvaro, and Juan.
Thanks for reading,
RCE
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