The Spanish –
Last night was something else. Mateo and I are watching the United States play Spain in the Confederation Cup. We find a bar near the Albergue and settle in, as the bar is already crowded, full of Spaniards, including a large group of pilgrims we´ve been traveling with. But Mateo and I haven´t really been very tight with these guys – they are loud, appearing to be a bit standoffish and not overly welcoming. But when they saw Mateo and I walk into the bar, we became their new best friends, and they became ours: Aurelio, Ignacio(nicknamed “Nacho”), Ignatcio (nicknamed”In-yanki”), Sylvia (the latter Ignacio´s wife), Pedro, and Xavi. Mateo speaks great Spanish with them, which is great, because they speak very little English. We order beers for each other, even after The States take a surprising 1-nil lead. We´re elated and the Spaniards are excited for us, despite their own side being down a goal.
Then down two goals! Mateo and I can´t celebrate, but some of the drunk Spaniards at the bar, including the bartender, pick up on our nationality and ask us why don´t stand with our hands over our hearts and sing our national anthem.
We were planning to leave after halftime and make curfew, but Aurelio, the wild, curly-haired ring-leader, has convinced the albergue señora to let us stay out, since there is a fiesta in the adjacent plaza. So the crew of Spanish guys and two Americans head out on the town. And they are all about some Hierbas, this dredful green absinthe liquor that reminds me all too much of jager. But who am I to spoil the fun. I just have to drink more beer to get the liquor´s taste out of my mouth. We turned in at 0030am, which is way too late for the camino, but we had a blast, and made some great friend, three of which (Aurelio, Xavi, and Pedro) are doing the whole camino.