Ribadesella:
Some might call it the perfect little town. Right by the sea, this quiet village turns into a hot place to be during the summer with people coming up from the south.
The town is colorful and full of bars and sidrerias (cider houses) where most people go to socialize.
Everyone knows everyone and their parents and their parents, and where they live, and what they do. I think that’s maybe why there is less petty crime, but I’m just guessing.
People here are very touchy compared to Americans I think. Of course, kisses when you first meet someone are common, but often, when talking with an adult I will have my arm grabbed and they will be very close to me. Sometimes it can be uncomfortable because, whether it’s just me or Americans in general, I like seeing, basically, the entire top half of the person. Think about the typical dads at a BBQ holding a beer, standing a foot or two apart, and looking at their kids playing. It’s not like that here. Close, physical, and eye contact; are the three factors. Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked.
The beach has waves large enough to surf and even some people venture out in the frigid water to catch them. I’ve heard in the summer this place is a whole other animal, and I believe it. I’d love to come back in the summer and enjoy the beach more than I really can now in the winter.
In between larger towns, like Ribadesella, are tiny, tiny villages. Most have a small chapel, one restaurant, and maybe a hotel. The average population in these small pueblos is about thirty to fifty people.
The Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage to the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela in Galicia. People walk this for all sorts of reasons. The Camino de Santiago path runs through Ribadesella. Well, one of the paths. The North Coast Camino to be exact. There are hostel-like places where pilgrims can rest before walking again the next day. There is one that is in an old school down the road from here. These shells and other signs mark the path hikers should take. One day I will walk this path.
A Soccer Match:
Eduardo brought me to my first European soccer match. One word: intense.
The fans, the players, the refs, everyone was there for the moment. The passion of the fans was especially contagious. One thing I learned as the first whistle sounded was that it doesn’t matter if you’re a sweet old lady, a braced-faced boy with a broken leg, or a slender, modest-appearing man; you cuss out the ref. Not under your breath either. Edu translated some of the foul things they directed towards the refs. Quite creative remarks. One guy kept telling the ref where he was going to shove his umbrella because he was calling the game so poorly.
The home team, Oviedo, outplayed the other team in all areas and got a well-deserved win. They must have heard I was in town and wanted to put on a show.
We took a fan bus, that’s provided to season ticket holders, to and from the game. After the game, thirty-plus buses lined the street, waiting to take everyone back.
After seeing the Bucks play and having my mind completely bombarded and tainted by advertisements (It was actually outrageous and I never want to see an NBA game again), it was very refreshing to watch a game and have the primary focus be the actual match. The players were like family to the fans and always walked off the field thanking everyone for taking the time to cheer them on. Everything was just much more emotional and very much in the moment.
Spanish:
I get Spanish lessons every day when I work from Francisco and he receives (the best) English lessons. I’m slowly progressing, with emphasis on slowly. Also, that’s how everything involving Spanish is going: Slowly. I talk slowly, I need people to talk slowly, etc. This can all be a little frustrating and deterring, but the reward is being able to converse with so many more people and opening up more possibilities for me.
Eduardo had some great wisdom to share that he found when he was learning English and trying to converse with people in Wisconsin. He said to try not to translate the words that you hear, but rather interpret them in the language you hear or read them in. Transitioning from one language back to the other for each phrase said has indeed proven to be very time-consuming.
So, now I’m trying to rewire my brain to think and speak in Spanish. It’s hard. Like really really hard. I think I’ve found a new type of headache actually: the pain of this one swirls around your head pushing the inside of your skull. It’s nothing a good Spain nap won’t fix, although.
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