About 11 years ago, I was walking on the Playa Santa Maria with some friends when my bag was stolen. There wasn't much in it, a discman, less than $10, a pen and my journal. Losing that journal broke my heart. Inside it were the memories from my first 28 days in Cadiz. I cried and cried at the police station and later went dumpster diving to see if the thief had tossed it. I didn't care about the other stuff, but that 28 days...I wanted that back. I never did find it...
I arrived in Puerto de Santa Maria on Wednesday. My train was 2 hours late...I fell asleep, so I don't really know what happened, only that I'll be getting a refund which is awesome. They also provided us with free drinks, so I bought myself some ham flavored chips (only in Spain) and was making my way back to my seat when I ran into a group of students from Semester at Sea. They were drinking Cruzcampo (one of the preferred beers in Andalucia...so I'm told) and telling stories. One of the girls was from Toronto, the rest were from various parts of the States. About three days ago, the Canadian got robbed and in her bag was her passport. This is only the first part of their voyage and they had just arrived in Spain. She had to make a solo trip to Madrid to get it all sorted out, which was probably pretty terrifying, but of all the people in the group, she seemed to be the happiest.
"Yeah, it sucked that my bag got stolen," she told me. "but I wouldn't have traded these last two days for anything in the world. I got to see Madrid."
The oldest person in the group was just barely 20. There were two guys and three girls and there they sat, toasting life and trying to place bets on if they'd make it back onto the ship in time. It was leaving at 6pm and after our 2 hour delay, they would probably arrive in Cadiz just in time to make a run for it.
"What's the worst that could happen," one of the guys grinned. "Worst case scenario, we spend the night in Cadiz, catch a bus down the coast and take the ferry to Morocco. We can get on the boat there."
It was weird to sit there and listen to them, kind of like stepping into a time machine. That used to be me on the train, running late towards some unknown adventure. That's what my year in Cadiz was, one adventure after another, one risk after another, a twisty path full of surprises. I remember meeting my host mother for the first time...Crazy Carmen and her little white dog Pocha whose little claws would click their way across the marble floors day and night. There was that night my first week in Spain where Bree and I went to Sevilla on our own to watch a bullfight, then missed the last train and couldn't find a hostel. We ended up spending the night outside of the Station.She told me then that we would always remember that...but funny I have no idea what ever happened to her. So many people just pass through your life once. And how many sunsets did I watch from the cliff overlooking the ocean at la Playa Santa Maria drinking wine with my girlfriends? Plus carnival and tea time at the Irish Pub where they had the best cookies....mojitos at Son Latinos, where I first learned to salsa. Taking guitar lessons from the Flamenco guy who looked like an owl. Dancing til breakfast at Bar Blue or trying to understand the stories they told during Cuento Cuento (Story Hour) at the Bar Albanta with it's walls filled with mermaids. It all came flooding back to me. What would it feel like to go back? I chatted for a while, then near Jerez I excused myself and returned to sit with my thoughts.
It seemed weird to get off at the stop before Cadiz. I met Charo, Bea's mom, at the train station. I wondered if I would recognize her. 10 years is a long time. Puerto is small though so it was easy enough for us to find each other. Charo is a slender, stylish woman with short auburn hair and a nice laugh. As we drove, she put me at ease with stories about the town and about her family. We arrived at their new house which is in Los Torros, right next to Vista Hermosa...a well named neighborhood. It's lovely. It actually looks a lot like Arizona with all the palm trees and pretty orange, pink, and white house bordered by walls and citrus trees, jasmine and hibiscus blooms spilling lavishly over the sides.
Charro took me on a grand tour of the house, stopping in every room, and pausing to introduce me to Cuca...her little brown dog who loves to run in circles. Funny, though it's a new house, Bea's room looks exactly the same. I recognized her trundle bed immediately because it was the first one I'd ever seen. It still comfy. Then we went outside and walked through the yard. There is a small garden with tomatoes and eggplants, an orange tree, a mandarin orange tree, a gorgeous jasmine bush, and a real live pomegranate tree. The pomegranates aren't ripe yet, but Charo did pick the last of the tomatoes which she served with dinner drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt and oregano.
Since it was snack time, Charo made me a ham sandwich. For those of you who have never been to Spain before, I feel like I should explain. It's not like she just pulled out some cold cuts. She actually pulled out an entire pig's leg (hoof included) and sliced me up some cured ham which was delicious, though I think I must have taken on the ham smell because for the rest of the day, Cuca followed me everywhere. She's pretty cool as dogs go, not too yappy or too jumpy, so we're cool.
There was still a while before Angel, Charo's husband, would come back from work and Charro wanted to go see her mother, so she dropped me off by La Plaza de Torros. True to it's name, in the center of the plaza is a Colosseum built for bullfights. There we checked the bus schedule to Cadiz for the following day.
It seems my timing is getting better. My Dad and I are notorious for always leaving the day before the party. When we went to Canada we left the day before Canada Day. When we went to San Antonio we left the day before Fiesta. But randomly I arrived just in time for el dia de la santa de los milagros (or la virgen de milagros) which is apparently a big party day in Puerto de Santa Maria. Charro explained to me that every year the entire town comes out to watch the parade of the virgen de los milagros. I misunderstood this to mean that there would be an actual virgin...you know kind of a different twist on Homecoming or something...but apparently the virgin is Mary...good to know.
"Que virgen? Habra virgenes? Como es que sabe si ella es virgen? Hay una prueba?"
"Aye nina no...la virgen es Maria."
"Oh. Vale."
"Habra un desfile por alla," Charro told me and then pointed me towards the correct street. I followed it deeper into the city with it's familiar architecture...the balconies rising on either side of me from white buildings. As I got closer, I could hear bells ringing, then more and more well dressed people started appearing. I love people watching here. The older women especially always have on gorgeous clothing. Finally I arrived at a Plaza in front of a large Cathedral. The Square was packed with people waiting for the festivities to begin. There was a real live marching band. They played for a bit and then the parade began...mostly it turned out to be people carrying crosses or big flags with what looked like family crests. I don't know why I thought there would be floats. When someone says parade I always think of Thanksgiving and that huge Turkey balloon ambling through New York...this was much less interesting, but fun none the less to hang out. I only stay for 40 minutes then I met up with Charro and we returned to have a lovely dinner with Angel. Elena, Bea's sister had to work, so it was just the 3 of us.
As I got ready for bed, I felt kind of nervous. Tomorrow I would finally go back to Cadiz.
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