When we get up in the morning, Isabel has the makings for paella out on the counters. I’m so excited, I’m almost annoyed that I have to wait til two to eat lunch! But today is a big day for us at school—the Cádiz paper is sending a reporter and a photographer. They will be publishing an article about the work our group is doing on Alberti.
Today is also our last day in Cádiz, tomorrow morning we take a train to Madrid and then fly to Rome. I’m terribly sad to be leaving Spain and to be leaving Cádiz. I have come to feel at home here and my heart breaks a little when I think that it’s taken me eight years to return to Spain. I can’t possibly wait that long again. Some of the girls have expressed frustration at how small the city is and how little there is to do. Having already done some school in Southern Spain, I actually think the smaller, slower lifestyle is better suited for the student. We’ve only had a week and a half here, so we really tried to pack in as much fun as we could, but with more time, like four months, or even the year-long program, there’s no need to cram it all in. Plus, there would be much more homework involved in a longer study. I daydream about staying in Cádiz and I see myself learning to sail better, perhaps kiteboarding, getting a bicycle, taking weekend trips to other cities… I don’t think that there’s any reason why life would have to get boring. Plus, there’s all of new Cádiz, a huge part of the city that none of us have explored beyond El Corte Ingles!
When the reporter arrives, she observes us discussing our translations for a while before she asks us some questions. Tony acts as a translator and I’m almost shy to use my own Spanish because after hearing him convey some of the other students’ words, I’m fairly certain that he’ll make me sound better than I could, using my own words!
I of course, gush about how much I love Cádiz, and how kind the people are, but I wanted to stress how valuable the poetry was in making me feel confident about traveling to a foreign country. To read and understand how Alberti was able to leave his home and create a happiness for himself somewhere else, to feel as though he belonged in another land, that does give me confidence to make Spain my own. Alberti writes honestly about his adopted city, Rome, describing both the innate beauty and the undeniable ugliness with equal dignity. I think it must be impossible to love a city without also hating something about it. It’s almost as if one strong emotion requires the other in order to exist.
For me, I love a million different tiny aspects of life in Cádiz, but I hate, with a passion, all the dog shit and all the garbage trucks. There’s dog shit everywhere and no one ever seems to pick it up and it’s on the sidewalk and in the street and in the plazas. I understand that this is “a cultural thing,” that the locals are able to just let it be, but I can’t wrap my head around it! How are the locals not embarrassed to be living among piles of shit? As for the garbage trucks… Whenever I’m out past eleven (basically every night) it seems as though the garbage trucks take over the city and I cannot avoid them! They’re loud and horribly stinky and they’re too big for the narrow streets so that I have to run ahead to duck in a doorway so I don’t get scraped up as they pass. They are stalking me and I resent it.
Of course, I don’t mention any of this to the reporter. We all look studious for the photos and thank the reporter as we pack up and leave to go home for lunch. No time to dawdle—the paella awaits! Jennifer and I race home and are seated and trying to be patient at the table as Isabel dishes up great amounts of bright saffron seafood paella. It’s so good! I could have eaten a second heaping plate, just for the taste alone, but restrained myself. Isabel explains to me how to prepare paella and I realize that this woman owns no measuring cups or spoons. Her directions are basically, “first you add this, then you do this, then you add some of this…” There’s no way I will ever be able to recreate this magnificent meal. I guess it makes it that much better.
Since today is our last hurrah in Cádiz, all of us are going to walk down to the far beach, Santa Maria. We meet at the old beach, La Caleta, and walk down together. It’s a gorgeous and very hot day and we can’t wait to get to the water. The beach is pretty busy, but nothing like the weekends and the little secret spot on the side of the breaker is flooded because of high tide so we trudge down the beach, looking for a spot. Michaela is intent on finding the prime real-estate on the beach. She finally settles on a spot and we set up camp.
No joke, within ten minutes of us putting down our towels it seems like all of the good-looking guys on the beach have collectively agreed to play an impromptu soccer match right in front of our squat. It’s definitely for our benefit, there’s no doubt about it, especially when balls are “accidentally” kicked into our sunbathing group…
A bunch of the girls have some shopping they want to get done, and this is the only day to do it. I lead the group back to Plaza de Catedral where we grab some food before hitting the shops. I buy some post cards, but that’s about it. Rome is going to be expensive…
I walk back with Rikki and Michaela and no one really has any plans to go out. Everyone wants to stay in to pack and get some sleep. We have to be at the train station at about seven fifteen tomorrow and I know that a lot of the girls are worried about getting their luggage there. I’m of a different mentality, I figure if it’s the last night, better make it count.
I make plans to meet Rikki and Michaela at Plaza San Antonio later for dinner. When I get back to the apartment Isabel tells me that there’s a huge party on the beach at La Caleta. It’s the Fiesta de la Intierra de la Caballa. From what I gather, the caballa is a type of fish that is a major pull for this fishing town, so every year they have a huge party and ceremoniously burry the fish. She says there are free drinks and live music and fireworks. I’m intent on going.
I get ready and head out to meet the girls… only I can’t find them anywhere. I walk to Plaza de Mina to look for them… nope. So I stop in at the little bar across the street from my building called la Paloma. It’s always filled with locals and I’ve always wanted to duck in to eat there—no time like the present! So I walk up to the bar and explain that I don’t eat meat. The barkeep’s wife pops her head out of the kitchen and says she’ll fix something up for me right away! I chat with the two guys behind the bar, who want to know where I’m from and what I’m doing and how long I’ll be in Cádiz. They’re sad to hear that I’m leaving the next day, but the wife in the kitchen yells, “As soon as she eats my sandwich, she’ll be back for sure!” Everyone laughs and I confess that I would really love to return. The barman pats my hand and says, “You will, and you’ll come back to eat here again!”
They wrap up my sandwich to go and give me a little bag to carry it and my soda in and I walk back to San Antonio to sit on a bench and eat. I’m half way through my fried egg and cheese sandwich (which was delicious, as promised) when I hear Michaela’s booming voice. They’ve been sitting at a café for the last hour with Faith and Isar only I didn’t see them because they were under an umbrella!
I beg them to go to the beach party with me, and Faith and Rikki finally agree. We can hear the fireworks as we walk down there, and I joke that it’s our sendoff. We are swarmed by masses of people flooding the streets as the party comes to an end. But when we get down to La Caleta it doesn’t seem like the party is anywhere near over. The band is still playing and there are piles of people milling about and dancing.
Rikki heads home and I walk Faith back to her apartment. Then I head into New Cádiz to meet friends and see what the discotecas are like… I’ve already packed so I have nothing to worry about except for getting my luggage and myself to the train station on time. So, I don’t go to bed. We stay out dancing all night and I catch a cab back to Plaza San Antonio at about ten to six, getting in the house at about five past, just as Jennifer is getting up. I freshen up, eat breakfast and we set out on foot for the train station.
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