Saturday, September 22nd
As of right now, I’m a week behind on writing these journal entries. I’ll be briefer from now on.
Saturday morning, we had the typical breakfast. We were expecting Ines’ mom and brother, Juan, to join us for lunch. Ines’ mom was going to make fideo mariscos. I remember waking really early this day. I made myself food, worked on my journal, and watched this interesting channel called TodoCine. They had some good analysis programs on films and directors, as well as behind the scenes and previews to new films. My favorites were the Fellini and Fat Women analysis and the Bergman and Clocks analysis.
Ines’ mom and brother arrived. We helped them bring groceries in from her car. Before the lunch we had appetizers, mainly nuts and quisquillas. Quisquillas are shrimp served cold. I decided to try them hoping they would not make me sick. They didn’t. I had a glass of white wine with my lunch. The food was served. The dish looked like macaroni and cheese with an assortment of seafood – shrimp, clams, oysters, calamari, octopus, and tuna chunks. It was delicious.
After lunch, we talked to Ines and her family for a bit. We decided we would embrace the culture and take a nap during siesta. I needed the sleep knowing we would have to go out that night with Ines and her friends. She knocked on our door to wake us around 9pm. We slept for five hours. Ines found it amusing. We got ready and left to Ines’ friends, Juani, birthday dinner.
We arrived at Juani’s campo. It was a nice villa like home, the kind you’d find a big drug dealer in. She had three dogs. One of them was crazy. We went to the backyard and sat at a table with about 12 other girls. I sat at the end of a table. To my left going clock-wise was Amissa, Ines, Tere, Maria, Rocio, Maria Bleda, Carmen, Colombian Girl, Pili, Maria 3, Celia, Juani, Big-young girl Ana, and then Elena. We ate a bunch of tapas like ensaladilla russa, patatas y berberechos, bocadillos, olives, and tinta de verano (sangria). The girls drank and talked and eventually started a dirty game of “I never”. Someone states “I never…” something sexual usually follows. Those who have done that must drink their alcohol.
Around 1-2am, we left Juani’s campo and headed to the bar Chaplin, a Charlie Chaplin themed bar. The bar was nicely decorated but the music being played would have made Chaplin roll in his grave. The bar was crowded and smelled like breath. We exited and stood outside with all the smokers. We checked out the adjacent bars, Underground and DF. Underground was decorated like the London subway and was all about alternative rock. DF was just a plain ol’ bar. We had Ines take us home around 3am. She didn’t come back that night until 6am.