Almuñeca (Sept. 19-20)

So I have been in Spain for over a month now, but in many ways I feel like I still haven't gotten away from America. I'm sure the Internet has something to do with that, but I love being able to stay connected to everything and everyone that has been such a big part of my life for so long (Plus, life without Internet is like the even more modern day equivalent of Cast Away, i.e. you can be in the most beautiful, modern, civilized, populous part of the world, but without Internet, without that connection to your home, you still feel as isolated and alone as ever.)  Rather, I think that this feeling of still being in America has more to do with always being around Americans. I was under the impression that from the moment we arrived here in Spain we would be with Spaniards. Granted, we see them all around us, but rare is the occasion in which we actually socialize with them (hopefully part of this will change when they start school on the 28th). Anyways, in an attempt to get even more away, I went to a little beach town called Almuñeca with a Spaniard I had met on my first night in Sevilla and two of his friends. They are crazy. Loco. I don't think I've ever been so confused or turned around in my entire life, but I loved it! Listening to them talk to each other was an experience in itself. I closed my eyes at one point during their conversation and literally thought that I was on another planet amongst 300 or so shouting Martians. I've always wanted thought it would be cool to be abducted by aliens! I'm sure it can't be much different than that experience lol. One of the amigos of my amigo Eduardo (or Principe Naranja as his friends call him because he is always wearing orange) owns a beautiful, very spanish apartment over looking the beach. (I was relieved upon pulling into the parking lot because I thought we would be sleeping in the car or something.... I literally understood nothing about what was going on lol).

We arrived at the apartment at 1:00 am (really 9:00 pm by their standards as I would soon find out) and sat out on the patio for a couple of hours. We went to bed around 3 am upon which the Spaniards all commented on how early it was, especially for a Friday night, but, obviously embarrassed with themselves, they went to sleep. (I, on the other hand, was ecstatic - almost to the point where I couldn't fall asleep - for this was the moment that I had been waiting for since 11 that night lol). The next day we got up at around 9:30 and went down to the beach. The water was cold but we rented a paddle boat and made our way into the open seas. The 3 spaniards and the american. Bound together by what would deem to be about an hour of solid pedaling and sufficient burning in the legs before we would make it back to shore.

That evening would prove to be another late one (or should I say early) as we got to bed around 6 am. The night consisted of tapa bar after tapa bar after tapa bar leading to, when it was all said and done, about 40 euros worth of food and drinks. I, unfortunately, had no say in what I wanted as my new amigos consistently brought new plates to me begging me try the food and then laughing as they saw my often not-to-pleasant reactions.


When it was all said and done the weekend passed by in the blink of an eye, or the sentence of a Spaniard, and I had heard more spanish than ever before in all my years of life combined - which is precisely what I came to Spain for. They want to do it again next weekend, but I need at least another month of recuperation and, apparently, more adjustment to the Spanish lifestyle. I need to catch up on sleep now! And how about them Broncos! All the way baby!