Spain ((Day One))

I woke up that morning groggy and not at all ready to spend a day walking around an unfamiliar city. Then, I turned over and turned on the lights and Michelle had decorated my side of the wall in Post-Its saying Happy Birthday in Spanish! It was wonderful. Then we went to breakfast and met up with Liz, Emily, Paul, Marissa, and Lindsey for a day out on the city of Cadiz. The weather was perfect, blue skies, mid 70’s, and I was wearing a flowy skirt. It couldn’t get much better than that J
We walked aimlessly (well…I walked around aimlessly, Paul read the map and led us around with his brilliant Spanish intelligence) through cobblestone alleys and beautiful gardens and past old statues that had the names of famous Spaniards of political importance. We walked in flip(py)-flop(pies), with dangling cameras, and clueless smiles (me, mostly).
On our way to find the bank (so a few of us could convert dollars to Euros), no one would step up and ask where the nearest bank was, so I asked the next man that we found. In Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish…! Paul ended up translating that I didn’t mean “Bank-o”, but rather “Banco”. Something about pronunciation… but when we found the bank, we realized that you had to have your passport on you to exchange money, which none of us had because we were only staying in the port of Cadiz for the day.
After we walked around more, looking and acting like complete tourists, we found the big cathedral in middle of Cadiz. I’m not the biggest fan of gothic-style cathedrals. They are beautiful, some with stained glass and gorgeous stone statues, but the echo that constantly surrounds the inside, along with the crypt (yes, crypt) unsettles me a bit. The pictures hanging on the walls inside the circular crypt room reminded me of Disney’s Haunted Mansion when the pictures on the walls keep moving up and up and then the lights go out. I had to escape out of there before I had a slight panic attack.
Lunch was not quite lunch. In Spain, apparently everyone celebrates “Siesta” for about four hours or so in the middle of the afternoon. I learned that a Siesta apparently involves long naps, and businesses closing down in the middle of the day because the country wants a quiet period (or something along those lines). So, there we were at a café, trying to order Tapas (appetizers/snacks during the Siesta), and drinks. The place was called “Mamajuana”, which I think is pronounced a lot like “Marijuana”.
My menu of choice?
Albondigas De La Casa: House Salad
Revelto Chorizo: Sausage, potatoes, cheese, eggs mixed together
Tinto De Verano: Apparently a French-style Martini
Now ask me what I liked out of my lovely selection of food that I was so hungry for. I am not a picky eater; let’s just clarify this now. But I could not stomach the salad. I truly tried, I did, but listen to the ingredients: Lettuce, carrots, a bucket full of mayonnaise, and two lovely anchovies/sardines on the top. A brown mystery dressing decorated the salad and made me quite queasy. The sausage dish was good, but I could only stomach so much grease (this was our first real “meal” off the ship, and ship food is worse than cafeteria food, I’ve come to realize). The Martini was a bit strong for my liking, but I paid for it, so I did my best with the meal and then walked it all off around Cadiz again.
We came back to the ship around 4pm, and I fell into my bed like a rock and solidly slept for two hours until I woke up for dinner (on the ship). Everyone proceeded to completely embarrass me and sang Happy Birthday in the loudest voice possible. My cheeks burned, but I was happy. Around 7:15ish we hopped on a tour bus and rode 30 minutes outside of city limits to a sketchy little farm-like place in the middle of the Spanish country. This was where our bull-fight/flamenco show was going to be held. As soon as we stepped off the bus, we were handed glasses of red/white wine…so I took a white wine and sipped it and physically gagged. I guess I’m not one for “eloquent drinking”. If I don’t care for something, I don’t pretend. So, I traded my glass for one filled with red wine, and I think I convulsed a little. I’ve never tasted something so painfully awful. I’ve been told it is an acquired taste, but I don’t think I can handle sipping it long enough to become a “wine-drinker”. That’s one title I’ll have to pass on up.
The “bull fight” was…interesting, to say the least. First of all, the bull was nothing but a baby. A tiny little thing that mostly ran away from the muleta (the red cape) and seemed scared of the picador. I was kind of ridiculous, but fun to watch in an “I feel sorry for you, so I’ll chuckle in amusement” kind of way. Then we walked to an even sketchier place behind the miniature bull ring to a villa-type place. We were seated at very nice tables and given Tapas and never-ending pitchers of Sangria to drink while we watched the Flamenco show. It was a good time. The Sangria was pretty amazing, unlike the other drinks I had throughout the day. The show was a lot of fun, and at the end, we all go up and danced with the flamenco performers, doing the Macarena and other Spanish-style dances.
I had a sweet 20th birthday. It not what I expected and everything I expected. I was completely ready to be off of the ship, but was more exhausted throughout the day than I ever could have imagined. It’s still surreal, it’s still unimaginable. I wake up in the mornings still forgetting that I’m on a ship, and this particular morning was incredible. To wake up groggy and then realize it’s your birthday, and then realize you are in Spain…
I keep my journal handy, and have TONS of fun pictures to try and upload for you very soon. Keep smiling J
Adios!