La aventura cantábrica :: Comillas y Santillana del Mar

And now the final day of the wondrous Asturian-Cantabrian adventure. The great escape weekend.

We left early again from our hotel in Cangas de Onís, heading straight towards Comillas in Cantabria. Moments before we left for the bus I "purged" the previous night's ghouls from my body in order to insure a much happier ride for all. 

Like Llanes, Comillas is a coastal town, however the bulk of the city center is significantly farther away from the ocean than is was in Llanes. There is a very steep cliff a bit in from the beaches where the majority of the city sits. We got off at the beach. We had to walk up that cliff to get to anything cool or important. Not a problem, I was feeling quite fine and in the shade it was very pleasant out (I could have done without the sun, as I always can). We learned about Marqués López and this fun adventures up in Cantabria from our dear cultural tutor, Fausto. We traveled to his big palace that was furnished by Gaudí (though the furniture was missing at this point...didn't matter as we didn't enter the house, just sat there looking at it from outside). It was your basic walking tour of some historically significant places and buildings that tends to go in one ear out the other, even if you don't want it to. 

The real adventure that occurred in Comillas was my quest for a bocadillo. Cristina gave us 30 minutes free to roam about Comillas before we had to re-meet and get on the bus to head to Santillana del Mar. Others went off to find postcards or some souvenir stuff. I briefly looked at the stuffed cows and other cow things that I really wanted but were far too expensive for what they were, then promptly thought to myself "Shit, I am hungry, I need to get myself a bocadillo before we get on this bus."

I had 25 minutes. There was a bar next to the plaza that we started at and were to meet back at. It looked like a full on restaurant, so I continued past it to another plaza area where there were plenty of terrace cafés. Some had signs saying "sandwiches," which are really not the same as bocadillos, and they happened to be sit down sandwiches, so I kept on. I ended up in a very residential part of town and quickly turned around, realizing that while it would be cool to wander off and explore the town a little more, my hunger was more important.

I returned to the starting plaza, saw a supermarket...but it was closed (as most are on Sundays, ¡qué pena!). However, right next to it was a little bakery/diner place that, on the outside of the shop, had a sign saying "bocadillos." I was in luck. I go in "Qué tipos de bocadillos tienes?" to which the woman replied "No tengo bocadillos." I was shocked and extremely disappointed at this flagrant false advertising. 

I continued on up the street. I thought I was getting away from the bar district, and losing hope of finding a boca in time, until I found a deli with a sign outside declaring bocadillos inside. I go in, ask for bocadillos, to which I get a big "¿Qué? No tengo bocadillos." Seriously, don't put up the sign people if you don't actually have them. I will just keep on walking and not disturb your fútbol game (which the guy was actually watching) if you don't tempt me with the thoughts of fresh tortilla. He was more helpful than the last lady though, he pointed his finger in some random direction and said to go there for something to eat. 

I go there. I walk in the bar, which for being 11:30 am on a Sunday was quite populated with old men shooting the shit (what a life!), and immediately spot the sign for bocadillos behind the bar. Including prices. I go up to the bartender and ask. No, they don't have bocadillos, what am I, crazy? What could possibly give me the idea that there might happen to be some sort of food in this bar, especially any type of bocadillo. He sent me on my way, with the name of another bar that actually had bocadillos, or so he told me. Bar Filipino. It sounded familiar and I remember seeing its sign somewhere.

I headed in the direction he told me, got to the plaza where we were supposed to meet in 5 minutes. Everyone was already there ready to go. I quickly said "hola" and kept walking. I knew I saw the sign around here somewhere, a big, red Coca Cola bar sign that said "Bar Filipino." I walk towards that supermarket, turn back, yes...there it is. Wait a second...Bar Filipino is the same bar that is attached to the plaza where we were meeting. Right at the very beginning of my boca-ventura. I foolishly passed it off, and now here I was, standing inside asking for a bocadillo de tortilla para llevar and clearly they had them. Within a minute I was holding a fresh boca in my hand, and the next minute we left for Santillana del Mar.

And then we got to Santillana del Mar. We only had two and a half hours there. Or, when we got off, what seemed to be forever. I wondered to myself, what the hell am I going to do in the podunk town for two and a half hours? Simple, do what we do best: comer. While I had surprisingly filled up on the boca, the rest of mis compañeros were dying for a good menú del día. We found this wonderful restaurant with a terrace garden, secluded from the din of the street. There was a giant tree next to our medieval feeling table. The table was large and round, and made out of thick, dark wood. We all sat around it in quite comfortable chairs. I just got a café con leche, which turned out to be quite good. The rest got paella and fried eggs and jamón serrano and all that good Spanish food. I wasn't too disappointed by not eating, I tried some of the serrano and wasn't too pleased, more salty than usual. 

We spent the full remaining two hours sitting there eating. I cannot begin to explain how much I love these long lunches that we had up north. There were so peaceful, so full of life and camaraderie and good spirits. I never have felt so comfortable at a dinner table. I've decided what my last meal would be. I'd tell the guards: I don't care what it is, just get me three hours, a big table outside, and all my friends and you can kill me all you want afterwards...I'd be too full and complacent to even care I was going out.

And then the ride home. I wished it could have lasted longer. I was disappointed when Cristina told us, around 8pm, that it'd only be an hour more. I didn't want the weekend to end. I felt I grew a lot closer to my friends. It was a much needed break from school and Alcalá (as fun as Alcalá is, Asturias kicks its ass any day of the week...I really wish I could study there next semester). One of the most memorable moments of the whole trip was one of the last. There we were, late at night on the on the bus ride back, a group of us just standing around in the middle of the aisles...chatting. Just talking, joking around, even talking quite a bit in Spanish (after Cristina complained that we were the group that most spoke English ever). It was wonderful, even magical...so serene and I felt so comfortable. 

Almost. Almost at home.

Rain! And Storms! And new pants!

Nothing special these past few days, save for:

El primer botellón. This is where the parents should skip to the next paragraph or two. Or not. So, the Spanish word for bottle is botella. Whenever you take a Spanish word and add -on, it makes it bigger, stronger, better. So think of botellón as a big, strong bottle -- full of booze. Botellones are a tradition and favorite pasttime of Spanish youth. The idea is simple: bars are very expensive, so why not get a bunch of booze cheap at the store and just hang out with friends in a park, drinking and talking all night? Then maybe heading out to a bar for a night cap or food. The laws concerning drinking outside are very, very lax here. I've been told by my Spanish friends that they've been approached by police during botellones, but were simply told to throw away their trash afterwards. Very lax. Think of it as our American house party, yet outside and without beer pong (qué horror!). You see, Spanish youth end up living with their parents until they are married, more or less. You can find some 28 year olds still living in their parents houses, mostly because of the lack of money and strong family ties (plus point--there aren't really part time jobs for college aged Spanish--they just go to school and have fun). However, when living with their parents, Spanish kids aren't really allowed to invite many more people over than just their girlfriend or best friend, much less a whole house full of drunkards. So they go outside to drink. Good idea, no? Just try that in the States anywhere that isn't Las Vegas or a festival.

Thursday night we had our first botellón with our new Spanish friends. It was great. We went to the university's courtyard and were presented with a wide selection of fun things to drink. Rum, black cherry vodka, regular vodka, Don Simón red wine (it's this boxed stuff that would kick Franzia's ass any day), Mahou (eww), plus the standard mixers: Coke and Fanta limón. Be warned: the black vodka and Fanta limón, while delicious, turns your teeth black-- not too attractive, but it was getting dark out so I don't think anyone mattered too much. This was a great opportunity for me and mis compañeros de los Estados Unidos para charlar y conocer mejor los españoles. We chatted, joked, laughed, peed in the alley way: good times. Got to work on our Spanish, which obviously improved as the night went on. Our Spanish hosts say they've been having this botellón every Thursday for the past seven years. We have to leave at 8 am on Friday morning for Asturias this week. You bet we'll be partaking in round two for us Americans.

Pues, Friday and Saturday weren't too exciting. Plenty of chilling around Alcalá. I believe I already spoke of the tapas fair here in Plaza Cervantes, which entertained me for a good portion of the night. Saturday night I spent mostly at home reading Reinaldo Arenas' autobiography "Antes que anochezca." Some of you may have seen the film version starring Javier Bardem (in English "Before Night Falls"). It's a very...interesting book. Very easy read for Spanish students as there aren't too many words you need to be running to the dictionary to look up. You'll definitely learn some new ones, mostly through context. Backstory: Reinaldo Arenas was a homosexual poet/author growing up just in time for the Castro revolution in Cuba. He grew up en el campo and at one point joined the militia to oust Batista. However, once Castro took over, he started persecuting homosexuals--and Arenas started to get in trouble. I'm only about half way through right now, so far, so good -- and strange at times (if you read it, you'll see what I'm talking about). Highly recommend it though (even more so in Spanish, of course). 

I did find a new cool bar Saturday night (after my marathon reading session, of course--study first, drink later). It has a wonderful terrace seating inside it's own courtyard. I'd liken it to Porta Bella in Madison (at least in style of terrace, not food). The drinks, as seems to be typical of the Spanish, were half and halfs -- for only 4.20€ -- just about the cheapest you can find in town without going to a botellón (5€ for a cup -- reminds me of most Madison parties). Still not sure how to properly order a rum and Coke here though. I've ordered it the only three ways I know and each time I'm met with weird stares. Ron y cola...blank stares and "¿Qué?" Cuba libre...same thing, no one understands. I was told by Maya to order by brand name (as once they figure out you want rum, they ask for what kind), so I ordered "Club Habana y cola" which was greeted with a disgruntled "¿QUÉ?" And it's not like I'm stupid and mispronouncing these words. I know how to speak at least enough Spanish to order a drink, and I've been told by multiple teachers my pronunciation is quite good. Maybe it's just that no one drink rum around here -- or else Spanish waitstaff just hate me. 

Sunday was Madrid time. Went to El Prado, which contrary to what we thought, was only free from 5pm onwards, not all day Sundays. Shame. Went in anyways. Saw Las Meninas, of course, and a host of others by Velazquez and Goya and those other famous Spanish painters. The painting that really stuck out for me and captured my attention most was by an "Early Netherlandish" painter called Hieronymus Bosch. It was called The Garden of Earthly Delights. Very fascinating, very detailed. I could spend hours looking at this three part painting. There are so many things going on and it seems to crazy that some guy back in the early 16th century dreamed this world up.

Spent some time in Retiro, then wandering around the crazy, convoluted streets of Madrid, hoping I'd get lost. Wanted to just explore and find something new and cool (or old and cool). I didn't, since the coolest thing was this bar at the very beginning of my trying-to-get-lost adventure. Casapueblo. At the beginning of Calle Leones near El Congreso and all those ritzy hotels in Madrid (save for the actual Ritz, which is near Atocha). Inside, old fashioned prohibition era decor. Loud (too loud) piano and jazz music playing. They had an old piano in back, in fact. Theater posters dating back to the early 20th century advertising plays being put on in none other than Alcalá de Henares. Giant wall full of liquor bottles. First time I've seen Kahlúa in Spain. Plenty of other rare stuff, including this one Cuban scotch. Not sure how good that would be. Marisa and I had a glass of red wine while admiring this beautiful wall. Our eyes searched for, and eventually found, the holy grail of I'm-in-Europe-and-it's-cool-to-drink-stuff-illegal-in-America booze: Absinthe. Or in Spanish, absenta. We didn't try as we are going to wait to bring more friends back to disfrutar. It has been encountered though (as numerous searches of grocery stores have returned negatives results). Will let you all know how that adventure ends up going when it happens.

And finally, yesterday I got some new pants. A pair of jeans. Figured my old ones were either too uncomfortable or too worn down. Got new ones, which I now refer to as "ass jeans" because they definitely show off my butt. The ladies love them though, so I'm not going to complain.

Success!

Finally got internet...in my room. Monica lives just down the street and her host family has password protected internet. She gave me the key. I get near perfect signal. Awesome. No more buying shitty beer to let you all know that I'm still not dead yet.

Good times in Alcalá. After my last post we went to the same bar Samuel and myself visited yesterday. Same waiter working, very happy to serve us. Finally had a drink. 43 y Coke, mi favorito. Nice place, sat on terrace. Excited for when I come back, want to sit out in the beer garden at Silver Creek with some friends. That's basically what I'll be doing every day after lunch here. Forget siesta, it's time for the cafés. 

It's been, what? Four days and we're already talking trips. Of course there is the late September class trip to Asturias-Cantabria...then the middle October trip to Extremadura. Side trips that others want to take (save for the probably weekly trips to Madrid--half hour by train why not?) include Barcelona (a personal fav for me), Amsterdam (:darts eyes:)...and well..that's about it. We do have one four day weekend which will be advantageous. 

Going out tonight. Let word to a few folks here that my birthday may or may not be occurring tomorrow. Might be a celebration or dinner tomorrow night. We'll see. Not sure whether or not to tell my host family. It's always weird having that early birthday with school stuff. It's usually a new group of people and I don't want to go "So, it's my birthday, HONOR ME!" or anything like that. Of course I never like celebrations in my honor anyways, it's especially weird when it's new people around since they don't know me as well yet. That's a problem when I'm at a new location every year. And it's my 21, ¡qué horror! Sorry I'm not there in the States to party it up big time with you folks. Remember, it ain't a big deal here. Just had a drink an hour ago in the bar. Although, either have a drink for me tomorrow (those in the States) or have an EXTRA drink on your 21, and I'll buy you a round when I get back (or you buy me...I'll be straight up broke when I get back.....).

Rambling, as seems to be the usual with me. Well, at least I'll have plenty to remember this trip by when I look back at this blog.