Cider, concerts and classes

There are certain things about Spain that I'm finding particularly incredible - the fact that you can still swim in the sea in October, the fact that the whole world shuts down to dedicate time to lunch and the phenomenon of free food when ordering a drink to name but a few. I've ordered myself many a milky coffee now and the bonus food has ranged from a little pastry, to a shot of orange juice and a piece of marble cake, to cheesy nibbles. A few of us went to a wine bar the other night and couldn't go more than ten minutes without the barman bringing round a new platter of tapas for us to sample. And this weekend I ordered a glass of coke and 2 minutes later received my coke along with a complimentary bowl of olives, bread and tuna, crisps and red pepper stuffed with a tomato and sausage meat combo. It's madness. Amazing, tasty madness. Also, it's always appropriate to order a beer in Spain. Always.

Last Friday, a group of us went to a nearby town called Candás for a cheeky day trip. The sun was shining so we wandered around at a leisurely pace, exploring the coastline and discovering the various bits of random art that were on display. Then we found a little bar and made ourselves at home. I had my first experience of Asturian Cider and the art of pouring it, which involves standing tall with both arms extended in opposite directions - glass in one, cider bottle in the other - pouring the cider from above your head and catching it below. Asturian cider is flat so this method of pouring gives it a bit of buzz and wakens the taste apparently. It also makes for a jolly good show as we found out. About 3 hours, 3 platters of seafood, 18 bottles of cider and a fantastic amount of great laughs and banter later, we somehow managed to stumble to a bus stop and stagger our way home. People had told me that the cider here is lethal... they were quite right.

School has been just fine this week. The teachers have been very accommodating and the ones who don't speak English have discovered that I do speak a bit of Spanish so they've promised to talk to me as much as possible, which is great. I made a powerpoint presentation about Durham and cracked it out about 4 times in the course of the week. I decided to show them the fantastic Freshers Week video that was made for Collingwood this year and only just managed to fight back the tears, which did nothing at all for my already waning street cred. Spanish kids are cool and it's becoming harder and harder to maintain the illusion that I'm totally down with them, homie. It's only a matter of days before the mask slips completely. On Wednesday, I went for coffee with a few of the teachers. They were talking about two old-school Spanish singers who have heart-melting voices and sing the poetry of Lorca and Neruda and the like. I've had the pleasure of studying said poetry at Durham so I nodded along enthusiastically, overjoyed that my Spanish Literature module was about to provide me with a source of real conversation with actual Spaniards. One of them turned to me and said "Oh, you like things like that then?" to which I replied "Oh yes! Absolutely. I love Spanish culture and literature." This would have been fine, were it not for the fact that she'd actually asked if I wanted to go with them to the concert they were attending on Friday. Next thing I know she was telling me when and where she'd collect me and I was handing her 17 euros to cover the cost of the ticket. But thank goodness for this particular communication breakdown - I went to the concert and it was amazing.

They were called Paco Ibanez and Amancio Prada, with a combined age of 150, and were absolute masters of their trade. The concert hall was rammed. I was the only person under the age of 40 and certainly the only foreigner in the building. They walked out to absolutely raucous applause (but no whooping - in Spain it's not good form to whoop) then proceeded to blow everyone away for 3 solid hours with haunting vocals and intricately beautiful guitar-playing. They had pretty good banter too. At one stage Paco had quite a rant about 'Lady Caca'*, as he called her, and the 6 million 'cretinos' who'd bought her latest disc. I can't really express how much I enjoyed it... it was just the sort of thing I'd hoped the Year Abroad might bring. 

Yesterday a few of us from Gijón met up with some of the assistants from Oviedo and went to the botanic gardens and then on to La Laboral, which is a centre of art and culture on the outskirts of the city. It's a blimmin' beautiful building with a tower that gives a view out across the whole of Gijón. It was a lovely day. We had an extremely keen tour guide and I think I might have even learnt a thing or two about history and art and things whilst making a few new friends on the way.

I keep flicking through the pages of my diary and realising anew how long it is before I come home for Christmas. But if time keeps racing by at this rate, it'll be here in no time at all... and maybe even too soon - my checklist of things to do here and places to visit is growing by the second.

Hasta luego!

(*in case you didn't know, caca means poo. Haha.)