Form Dubrovnik, to winecountry, to wine town.
28.08.2010 - 31.08.2010 30 °C
In Dubrovnik, I half consciously stumbled to the airport where I meet these two Croatian girls trying to go out in Barcelona that night, supposedly with a connection at a Barcenoleta night club. So I am like sweet lets go, so we get some duty free and a gift for the winemaker and set off once again to the EU. I pass out and once we get there, conveniently at 330, the two girls’ two friends are there to pick them up. This is after they go crazy in Croatian to each other and find the first bathroom to put on makeup before they even get out customs. So I’m no like maybe this isn’t cool, but at least I can hopefully get a ride to the center out of this. That was until I saw they were driving a TT and Im like damn well done. There will be no fifth wheel. I kept the liter of Asolute I paid 2 euro for and say peace out.
I take the bus to the center and I realize that the directions I half consciously printed out only printed a third of the directions. So I have like 1/3 of 6 different ways to get to the hostal. I am like you gotta be kidding me. Its 430, I haven’t slept in two days and now I have 1/3 of 6 ways to get th=o the hostal!!! So my brilliant ass finds a map of the metro and because the hostal is called One Sants, I have some reason to pray that it is related to the main train station, called saints. Unfortunately it’s like four and I have to go on the night bus with possibly the loudest conversation I have ever heard in my entire life. These two girls where speaking in some African derived language yelling into the air and just littering it with open vowels and hard consonants. Painful. I wanted to call waste management. Me and the other guy on the bus where like this cant be happening. It got so bad that the guy asked the bus driver if he could call the police on them.
Got to sants train station til the info both opened up and I found out where my hostal was. But my stay at the hostel was short lived because my boss wanted me to go to magallon that day. So off I was again to magallon on AVE, reaching 300km/hr. It took 1.5 hours to get to zaragoza. From zaragoza I took a bus took a 40 minute bus to Magallon, where Cesar, Alejandro and Jose Miguel were waiting for me. I was relieved to find some sort of civilization in Magallon. There even was a landmark; a huge church on top of the only hill within the surrounding 19k. There were even people walking in the street and bars lining a main ‘drag.’ The two girls, Paz and Ana were waiting for the bus to Bilbao and invited me, saying I would “pasarlo bien.” After 2 sleepless nights I think I didn’t want to go to Bilbao.
My three new friends and a zombie went up a steep street, straight to the top of the city and it turned out I lived a stone’s throw away from the church. At least I would never get lost going home. An encouraging sight was the town’s lone mural, which was on the steepest street heading up to the church and my place. It said something along the lines of ‘the only thing you need in order to climb up this street is a love of the saint of magallon, strong lungs and the wine of magallon.’ This was an encouraging first impression of the town. It was also its downfall as I would soon learn because, while there is wine in magallon, there simply isn’t much else.
Anyway off I was to celebrate con los Chillenos, o los ‘chabos’ as I would later call them. We started off by helping a man replace a refrigerator in his bar and got repaid by well, beer. The two guys were very kind, one of them was the handy man at the winery and the other one worked the fields. We went up to the Chileans’ apt to an awaiting dinner of ribs covered in fat. We were mollified by the hearty meat and got to enjoying some wine from Minerva, Magallon and lots of beer. We pasared lo bien; we sang, danced, drank and exchanged stories.
I had arrived in Magallon and was excited to start. All was looking up and I was excited at the upcoming opportunities that would be soon coming my way.