6/11/13: Made edits for grammar, spelling, and continuity.
The first night in Spain was truly a wonder. Upon minutes of my arrival in Lugo, Eva (The woman whose family is graciously housing me) and her husband Antonio brought me to a sort of neighbourhood festival. The purpose currently escapes me. After being awake for 26-plus hours, and through three airports over 15 hours has made for some of the subtleties of the evening to be lost.
I was definitely nervous about the whole endeavour, as I didn’t know what to expect, and there were to be many, many people attending with whom I, even now, can barely converse with. It seems much of Antonio’s family live closely within this region, so they were already there upon our arrival, in addition to hundreds more neighbours from the surrounding area. The way the whole event was set up was to house the hungry masses under massive tents; they were almost too large to call them tents, but they were a sort of large, rectangular sections of tarpaulin material supported by metal framing. A tent by any other name, but multiple buses would have been pleased with the accommodation. Rows after rows of long folding tables sat under these tents, covered in paper tablecloths, seemingly miles of waxy paper, for how far the tables went. Adorning these tables were legions of plates and napkins, battalions of bottles of local wine, and eager reinforcements of free beer, all as far as the eye could see. Continue reading