Walkabouts

Yesterday was my first solo mission into the evening world around here. With 3 of my roommates packing up to drive to Spain, 1 I have yet to meet, and 1 staying with his girlfriend, I was home alone for the evening which turns out to be quite motivational. Motivation being either A) buck up and try out some Spanish, or B) starve to death. I was close to "B" but decided to try out "A" so I showered up and hit the streets around 10:30 pm which isn't as late as it sounds really, their are still families walking around and going to dinner with their kids.

I remembered where the main road for shops and stuff is so I figured there could be some food around there. I also started thinking how I should try to find a public phone and call James to see if he is doing anything tonight so I don't have to be a complete bum all night, but food is first on the to do list. One of the first bar-restaurants I pass has a menu posted so I figure at least I can point to something to order if need be so I head over there going over some key terms in Spanish in my head. As soon as I get to the door the waiter comes and rattles off some Spanish that catches me off guard and I don't really understand...I'm sure its something like "how can I help you"...so I stumble to awkwardly say how bad my Spanish is (as if he couldn't tell) and he promptly hands me a menu and walks off to take care of more articulate customers. I looked over the tapas thinking maybe I could just point at some stuff but nothing really looked that great or a sufficient dinner for how hungry I am so I look over the menu. Unfortunately for me the menu is in Catalan which means instead of only being able to read about half the words, I can only guess at about 5 of them. However, I pick up on a section that is something like "platos combinats" and I see small lists of food alongside numbers. Numbers! perfect, so I wait for the waiter to come back over and while pointing at the menu I say "numero dos?", which he promptly responds with "bueno", and I quickly scoot down the bar a step to point to a beer tap with "estrella" and ask "puedo tener una cervesa tambien" (can I have a beer also?) to which he enthusiastically responds " Siiiiiiiiiii si si si" and pours me one.

I ask if I can eat at the bar and take a seat with a renewed confidence from the positive response from the use of my Spanish and my ability to feed myself. I watch a basketball game and sip my beer and wonder what the hell I just ordered. A younger waiter, who I suspect is the son of the first, come by and brings a paper placement and some silverware and then a small basket of bread (a promising start) and a little holder thing that has salt, pepper, olive oil and i think vinegar. I try not to wolf down the bread considering how hungry I am so I make a conscious effort to put the pieces down between bites while I sip my beer and go back to watching the game. Despite this all but one piece is gone in the few minutes it takes for my plate to come out. I am pleasantly surprised with what I ordered, a thin beefsteak, with roasted green peppers and a tomato cut in half and roasted, with a side of french fries. Everything was great, the roasted green pepper especially and I ordered another beer to go with my meal.

It's amazing what two beers and a full stomach will do for your attitude and your Spanish. By the end of the meal I was pumped for the evening and after paying (with a larger bill than needed cause I can't understand when he tells me the price) I ask the waiter if their is a public phone around and he indicates the next street over. So I thank him and head off and quickly find the internet/phone place. Trying to figure out this phone deal is about as traumatic as finding food cause its not like a pay phone, its a bunch of booths and people sitting at computers. So I just hop in a phone booth and close the door, confident I will be able to figure it out from the privacy of the booth. Well there are no instructions or anything, just a little screen on the wall that tells what numbers you type in, but i think that maybe it will print out a receipt or something after the call so I just dial James and see what happens. I think it's ringing but it kinda sounds like the busy signal back home so I'm not sure. I let it go till it stops and don't get a message or anything so I hang up and head out feeling like it's not worth it to try to talk to someone there and figure it out.

It's a pretty nice walk home and for almost midnight their are alot of people wandering around and talking and stuff and I'm energized by the sporadic fireworks that keep going off from around the town. Once home, I grab a beer out of the fridge (I owe these guys a case of Heineken) and go check on my computer. I realize I can use my computer to call James and get excited about the idea and about half an hr later and 10 euros down the drain I get ahold of him. Unfortunately he has work in the morning and is going to bed soon but assures me we'll go do something the next day and wishes me a relaxing evening. Nice guy that James but at this point I am tired of bumming around the apt so I figure I'll just go walkabout and see what I can find. I head over to that coffee shop I gone crazy outside of (not sure why i returned to the scene of the crime) and the crowd was almost gone. But I got a beer and sat outside just people watching and then moved in to try to talk to the bar tenders or at least watch the Spanish MTV. I get a few sentences off but I wouldn't call it a conversation so I decide to head down to the beach to see if there is anything going on there. It only takes about 5 mins to get there and I stay on the main streets to be safe.

The beach is pretty quiet but there are a few circles of teenagers around the beach and a few fishermen with ten foot poles buried in the sand. I make my way over to the bar on the beach and have a beer in a plastic chair while looking out at the Mediterranean under the stars. Its a really nice night and after my beer I go for a short walk down the beach to see what people are up to. I contemplate trying to strike up a conversation with some of the younger kids but I'm pretty content and don't wanna be the creepy American wandering up, at least not on my first weekend. I do, however, manage to ask a fisherman how the fishing is going and get a short "no bueno" which i take to mean he doesn't want to talk about it, so i wish him luck and head back down the beach. After one last beer at the bar I decide to head home and get some sleep. The evening turned out better than I could have hoped for and I think I'll be able to get used to this beach schedule and lay back atmosphere.