Author: Dane Lowell
Submitted by: redadmin

Chapt. 296 - 2,097 words
Columns :: Hercules’ Tower

Somewhere in Northern Spain, February 14, 2010 -- Comments:   Ratings:

Fiesta Queen



Somewhere in northern Spain, February 14, 2010 – Today I’ll try to tell you a little about Spain.

Damned little. Because that’s about the sum total that I know.

BB in Seattle once chided me for not writing more of the sights, sounds, and smells of Moscow. My excuse then was “I don’t have time.” What’s my excuse now? Well, maybe I’m just not a sights, sounds and smells kind of guy. I have plenty of time. God knows, I’ve got time. But I still find it difficult to write about sights, sounds, and smells.

To begin with, I’m north of Portugal and not far from the Atlantic Ocean and the Mar Cantrabico, north of Spain. That means I’m in the region of Spain called Galicia – except here it’s called Galithia.

On Slava’s last day here, he, Drushka and I went to the seaside city called A Coruna. Actually, that’s a “tilde” n, pronounced like “ny” in canyon. But I’ve forgotten how to make it on my computer. Anyway, it’s prounounced “a Corunya.” That’s another Galician peculiarity: “la” leaves the “l” off and is prounounced “a.” La Corunya’s chief claim to fame is its lighthouse, called the “Tower of Hercules,” the oldest Roman lighthouse in the world and “the only one still working,” according to the guide books.

Actually, the “still” is not quite true. It fell into disuse in the 4th and 5th centuries and at some point ceased to function as a lighthouse. Up to that time, the “light” in the lighthouse was fired by wood, which was carried up a winding stairway – no longer there – on the outside of the tower. In a rebuilding at the end of the 18th century, two lanterns were hung and it became again a lighthouse. Now it has a powerful light that still guides ships in the busy sealane.

We climbed up the 234 steps to the top, which has a little parapet around it that visitors can go out and stand on and ogle the other much younger tourists who have come to also be a part of history.

Slava got his first view of the Atlantic Ocean here, the same ocean in which I used to swim as a kid visiting Daytona Beach.

The lighthouse stands atop a 60 ft. hill and is itself 59 meters tall. The following is quoted in a tourist brochure: “The lamp is lit every night, sending out a set of four white beams every 20 seconds which can be seen 24 miles away. On days when visibility is poor, a fog horn emits a warning sound which can be heard seven miles away, thereby making navigation close to the coast and entry to the port of A Coruna safer for shipping.”

According to legend, a “tyrannical giant named Gerion ruled over and terrorized the inhabitants.” Finally, Hercules, son of Zeus (head god in Greek days, remember?) challenged him to a duel. They fought continuously for three days before Herky finally got the best of him and cut off his head. Herk built the lighthouse over Gerion’s buried head to commemorate his victory.

Actually, the city is very historic, with Roman, Celt, Norman, and other influences that it points to with pride.

Other northern Spansih coastal cities also have their claims to fame. The boatyards of Pontevedra, to the south of La Coruna on the Atlantic Coast, built the caravelle “La Gallega,” whose name was later changed to Santa Maria, and sailed with Columbus to discover the “New World.” And in the nearby city of Baiona landed the Pinta on March 10, 1493, with the news of the discovery of
America. The event is celebrated every March 1. Will I make the celebration this year? Probably not.

I’ve already pointed out the obvious. Spain is much warmer than Russia. It’s in the middle of winter here, but it seldom gets down to freezing, and usually during the day it gets up to 40, 50, sometimes nearly 70 degrees F. Even so, I’m often chilly here because Spain is very energy conscious and energy-expensive, so I often don’t turn the heat on at night, and when I do, it’s usually to about 17 degrees C, about 65 degrees F. I unpacked the robe which Jim made me some 20 years ago in Seattle, and it keeps me warm enough.

Drushka and I had coffee with Elvira last night. Found out a little about my apartment-to-be. It’s a studio in a one-room fifth floor attic! Not only that, but there is only one window, and that’s in the roof. When it rains it has to be closed. Can you imagine what it’s going to be like in the Spanish summer? I think there are going to be lots of fans. Not only that, but where am I going to put the contents of the 15 boxes of household items that I shipped from Russia. I’m not looking forward to this. I’ll probably see it later this week, she said.

The upside: It’s cheap – 175 euros a month – and in a good downtown location.

TUESDAY IS “MARDI GRAS” in French, Fat Tuesday, Shrove Tuesday, Fasching in German, “Festival” here in Spain, the day before Lent begins, and since this is a Catholic country, it’s celebrated big-time here. it’s the time when people –- kids and adults -- dress up in costume, kind of like Hallowe’en in America. Last night I saw an adult couple in pink bunny costumes. Is there no shame here? Apparently not, when it comes to religion and costumes. I promised Drushka that if he found costumes for him and me, I would wear it with him. Neither he nor I are going to spend money on costumes. I’m betting that he won’t find them, because I don’t want to get dress up in some stupid costume.

I’VE FOUND TWO PNBs (Potential New Boyfriends) here this past week. When I was in the Internet café (it’s not really a café – they don’t serve any food, but I don’t know what else to call it. Maybe salon?), I sat down at a computer and the guy next to me said something. I indicated that I didn’t understand, and he said, “English?”

“Yes.”
“The microphone on that computer doesn’t work”

“That’s okay. I don’t need it,” I smiled, and we struck up a conversation. He turned out to be Modesto, 29 years old (a little old, but then I’m desperate ), and maybe queer. But, alas, I’ll probably never know. He’s living and studying in China, and is only here for a month’s vacation. We had coffee, I introduced him to Drushka, who went ape (demurely) over him. I was to meet him yesterday, Saturday, afternoon for the Chinese New Year’s celebration. He also told me about some Free Spanish classes that are offered by the Red Cross.

Although he will soon go back to China, he and I have become good friends and I will stay in touch with him when he returns to Beijing.

My other PNB is Jorge, George, a handsome, young (maybe 22?) student whom I met Wednesday night at a German gathering to which one of Drushka’s friends (woman), who teaches German in the university here, invited me. Jorge is a serious language student. He speaks not only German, but English, French, Portugese, and he’s learning Russian. He and Drushka and I were to meet this afternoon. I invited him to my apartment, where he, Drushka, and I would find out more about him. He couldn’t meet yesterday morning because he was playing in a football (soccer to you) match.

I seriously doubt that he’s queer, but who knows, and at least it gives me something else to fantasize about.

I tried to meet Modesto, but couldn’t find the Chinese New Year celebration. We found each other afterward and went to a café for hot chocolate. I met some of his friends – all younger, including a pretty high school student also named David, another guy named Noel, and a couple of girls named Raquel and Margarita. Margarita is another good language student who studies in Vigo during the week and comes home on weekends.

We chatted for a long time, and David walked me home to my apartment. I told him about meeting today with Modesto and invited him to join us. He said he would also invite his girlfriend Patricia (is that girlfriend or Girlfriend?).

But alas, all my plans have fallen through. Jorge left me a message at 5:45 this morning saying something had happened (what I suspect happened is that he stayed out disco-ing all night) and he couldn’t meet because he was sleeping. When I SMS’ed Modesto, he replied that he has a family reunion today and can’t meet. Both said they’d contact me later in the week. That remains to be seen.

Drushka thinks they cancelled because this is Valentine’s Day. Hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he’s right.

ANOTHER BLAST IN THE ASS CAME LAST NIGHT when Drushka SMS’d me that Elvira’s husband kyboshed the notion of renting the apartment to me. They’re going to sell it instead of rent it, it seems.

Damn! There goes my cheap apartment. With my two students, I can afford to continue to live here now, but what about this summer when I go to the U.S.? I can’t afford to pay 500 euros a month (about $ 675 at the current depressed euro rate of exchange) while I’m in the U.S., but I don’t know what else to do.

Drushka promised we would look for a cheaper apartment in the meantime. I’m in a bit of a blue funk today – no Jorge, no Modesto, no David, no cheap apartment.

I’VE ALREADY MENTIONED MY TRIP TO ANDORRA next month to renew my visa to Spain. And now Drushka and I are going to Lisbon, the capital of Portugal, during Holy Week (that’s what they call Easter week, for those of you who are uninitiated in the ways of religion) April 1-4. It’s costing me 217 euros. Had I known about losing the cheap apartment, I probably would not have agreed to go, but what the hell? I will enjoy it immensely.

I’ve always wanted to go to Lisbon, maybe because it sounds like Lesbian, or maybe because in the movie “Casablanca,” that’s where, at the end of the film, Humphrey Bogart’s girlfriend and her husband flew off to across the Mediterranean.

Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve been there.

HAD A LITTLE HEALTH SCARE LAST WEEK: I’ve known for several years that I have kidney stones, but they hadn’t bothered me, though I’ve been keeping my fingers, legs, whatever, crossed until I can get back to the U.S. for free treatment next summer.

I’ve also been having constipation problems again and I noticed on Thursday that where my urethra enters the body cavity (hey, I’m not a doctor, but I think that’s right), there was a stinging sensation and it hurt to sit. Oh-oh! Is that a result of straining, do I have prostatitis again, or are my kidney stones acting up? If the latter, I’m going to have to do something quick: Either have them treated here, which would eat up all the money I have for the U.S., or fly quickly back to the States. But where? Bob Fletcher near Atlanta, who has promised I could stay there and be treated in Atlanta hospitals, is getting ready for a vacation trip to the Middle East. Where would I go? But on the other hand, the last time I had active kidney stone problems, my back hurt so bad I couldn’t stand. There has been none of that this time.

Well, while we’re in a clinical mood, while I was standing taking a pee Friday morning, my urethra was really stinging and the pee was coming out very slowly. Suddenly, the dam broke and I started peeing normally! Holy shit! What’s going on? I still don’t know if I passed a small stone or if there was a tiny swelling in my urethra caused by the straining to take a shit. Sorry for the explicit crudities, but we’re all adults and I’m still a little astonished. In any case, today it doesn’t hurt to pee or to sit. I don’t know what happened, but I seem to be okay. Drushka thinks I passed a small stone. Any doctors out there?

So I think I’m going to be physically okay until the summer. Sure as hell hope so. Financially? That’s another story.


See also related pages:
Chapt. #297 - Settling into Spain
Chapt. #295 - Remembering Russia


This day years ago:
2006-2-15: Chapt. #187 - Twins exit with St. Valentine and 2000 bucksi