I am now home and have had to go right back to work and into that rut. So I will do my beat to pick up where I left off.
Note: I, allegedly, look like this guy to all drunken Spaniards:
His name is Enrique Bunbury and, aside from the hair, I don't see it at all. Yet, as I walked the streets of Avilés, I would hear a shout of "Bunbury" at least once a day. Some days I heard it a a few times.
I don't remember a whole lot from the day of Friday the 13th but I think that that was the night that MaryLiz and I went back (the previous visit was spent visiting with a crazy old guy who claimed to be the King of Avilés) to a small bar where I proceeded to get drunk enough to ask for the acoustic guitar and play some songs. There were some folks from a band there and they were really nice. One of them spoke English rather well and claimed to had learned from watching television, mostly. He loved America and The Doors. Heh.
Of course, we didn't know any of the same songs but we were sure trying. I figured that they would know Pink Floyd, Nirvana, and such. NOPE.
They did know "People are Strange".
Besides that I just played the first songs that came to my head, none of which anybody knew: Elvis Costello, Leonard Cohen, Nick Lowe, Merle Haggard, Nick Cave, etc. They were very polite.
MaryLiz had hurt her leg working out and was having a great deal of difficulty getting around. I felt bad as I knew that she would rather be takin' her easy at home rather than entertaining her lame, American guest.
Saturday, the 14th, I spent by myself as MaryLiz was in too much pain to go out much.
I found myself in that unusual circumstance where I wanted to let her know that I was perfectly OK spending the day by myself and would enjoy it- but I didn't want to make it sound like I was glad she was down with an injury!
I did the usual that day: walked around, missed the restaurants while they were open (I survived on coffee and beer), and I took some photos. My battery was still showing a full-charge but I knew that that wasn't the case and I still hadn't located my charger.
I took a long nap that helped me out a lot. Yay.
That night I went to the discotheque sort of district to see what had been described to me. Sure enough, it was mostly really young kids, mostly drunk but also not that much of a LAME vibe that one gets at such places here in the states.
I got a drink at one place then moved on to another. It looked a little more popular as the dance floor was pretty full. Very little dancing though.
I got a gin and tonic and watched the interactions. It only took about five minutes for a huddle of guys and girls to come over to me and ask if I was alone. I guess it is an odd sight in Spain to spend any time at all alone as this would happen occasionally during the day as well.
I told them that I was American and that I didn't speak Spanish at all. They would start talking amongst themselves and pool together their English in increments, asking me about where I was from and such. They were incredibly nice and proceeded to buy my next drink. And the next. And so on.
I was introduced to a lot of people and, of course, forgot their names immediately. They were all very conncected- Googling me on the spot and seeing Lucky Pineapple stuff. They overreacted to the MTV affiliation that I tried to explain. I would have likely just played along with their wild fantasies of who I must have been, had I been drunker at the time....
Nevertheless, I had to take a lot of photos with a lot of people. I would get pulled over to the guys side to be quizzed about politics, sports, and women...and then pulled over to the girls' side and listen to them make fun of their boyfriends/husbands.
Eventually the dance floor began to get drunk enough to dance more. I danced and they liked that a lot. They kept asking how to do certain moves- which was pretty funny as I was just dancing like an drunken idiot. Somehow, Michael Jackson got brought up and someone said "moonwalk", so I showed someone how to moonwalk. They went CRAZY and, before I knew it, I was trying to teach about 20 people how to do it. Nobody got it right and, had it not been for my especially slick, new, cheap boots that I purchased from a street vendor, I wouldn't had been able to do it on that floor either.
I have to say: teaching the youth of Spain how to moonwalk may need to be in my obituary. Note it.
I tried to adjourn my services for the evening on a few occasions but they simply would not allow it.
I was taken to another club that was PACKED. It appeared to be an old, HUGE home that was converted. Gorgeous. We went upstairs and they bought me yet another gin and tonic. I ran into one of the band guys that I had met the night before. Nice fella'. Sure likes The Doors.
MaryLiz had mentioned on my first night how when a traditional song comes on how people go crazy. It was pretty neat to see a crowd of 16-25 year olds react in such a way. They all sing along and dance. It's pretty neat.
Another club, another drink. This one was called La Dolce vita and had scenes from the movie on some advertisements. I pointed and said "Anita Ekberg" and I received polite and confused smiles.
Dancing continued. I knew it was late. Or early. Eventually I began to see fatigue on my new friends' faces and it surely was a relief for me.
I was deposited at my room somewhere around 7am. I gave my e-mail address to some people who had taken photos of us all together so incriminating evidence may surface some time in the near future.
I went to sleep, awoken by a knock at the door. It was Guillo. It was 11am and we were getting ready to go to the ocean, the mountains, and such.
I don't remember much about this waking.
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