Montse has gone to Vallodolid

Yesterday Maite and Sergio and Sarah appeared in the early evening. They had been in Burgos, where it was a fiesta weekend. A few minutes after they arrived Sergio was asleep on the couch. There was a fiesta in Espinosa last weekend, and there´s one in nearby Osorno next weekend. Alas, I keep missing the fiestas, a quintessential Spanish experience from all accounts.

After dinner the young folks packed up and set off for Vallodolid, taking Montse with them to again to take care of baby Sarah for the week while they worked. When they left they all said “hasta Martes” to me, so apparently I´m going to Valladolid on Tuesday.

After they were gone Manolo asked me, so where do you want to go? I said esta noche, tonight? And he said yes. I thought he was joking, as in, now we´re single, let´s go out and party. I answered, truthfully but tentatively, “dormir?” (to sleep). He knitted his brow and waved off this boring answer and went for his jacket. Just the day before he had finished the last of the haybaling, after a month´s steady and tiring work. The wheat and barley are late this year, because of all the rain, and he won´t start the harvest for another week or two. So I had arrived during a lull in his summer work. When he came back with his coat, he asked if I wanted to drive somewhere or stay in Espinosa. Sunday night is slow, he said, so there´d be little difference. I preferred walking and so answered Espinosa. We made our way down to the stealthy bar by the basketball courts.

Inside, the big room was lit with garish flourescent lights. One of the two young woman who´d been working that afternoon sat at a table with two young guys, both of whom had product in their hair, watching them play cards. There was no one else in the bar. Manolo looked at his watch with surprise; he´d expected to find others.

The laconic young woman went behind the bar and expertly poured me a beer. She made Manolo a vodka and coke, and we sat down at one of the two tables. Just a minute later the others Manolo had expected appeared: two of the couples I´d had dinner with at the start of my trip, Maribel and Francisco (who had also been at the bar earlier in the day), and Blanca and Mariano. They got drinks and joined us. Someone bought a packet of sunflower seeds too, and poured them out in the middle of the table. Another woman, Pili, soon showed up, and the table was full with people in the their mid- to late forties.

The conversation soon turned to Montse´s absence, and the others teased Manolo, wondering with mock alarm how he could manage without her to take care of him. Apparently the thorough nature of her housewifely ministrations are well known. Manolo defended himself by pointing out that the two of us (pointing to me) had done quite well before, getting our own dinners (sort of) and cleaning up after ourselves. I supported him, but then also betrayed him by telling the story of how he didn´t know how to use the washing machine. This produced huge laughs. But then I said that Montse didn´t know how to use the empacadora, and Manolo very much liked this comparison.

Several kids were playing with a soccer ball on the court outside under lights, and occasionally one would come in to ask for money for a soft drink. In this way I would discover which kids belonged to which adults. It´s funny, but such explanations and introductions are rarely made. I usually only learn people´s names and the relationships by asking Manolo after we get home.

I faded in and out of the conversation over the next couple hours. Occasionally I was referred to, and then Manolo would explain to me what they were talking about, and I would participate for a few minutes before they were off again beyond my comprehension. Actually, I could follow much of what was said, but not really enough to jump in unbidden.

About 12:30 the young woman came and stood beside our table, signaling closing time.

In the night I woke in pain. In my sleep I had stretched, flexing and causing excruciating muscle spasms in my calves. Several times I unconsciously repeated this questionable maneuver, which each time brought me wide awake. In the morning I could only hobble downstairs. This follows my first day without walking, and I take it as message that I need to do more here in Espinosa than drink wine and beer and sit at the computer.