Where has the time gone?

My past couple of weeks since Portugal have been amazing. The weather has been nothing but ideal, and tis the season to start celebrating the saints. For those who don't know, Catholic countries celebrate different saints, and each town and city has it's own (Santiago's would be Saint James and they celebrate it on Saint James Day on July 25, though my mom would tell you they are really celebrating my parent's anniversary). The part that gets fuzzy for me is when the different neighborhoods start to celebrate their saints', or even more confusing is when there is a festival and no one is quite sure what it is for, but everyone is sure it is for some saint that did something during some point of Catholic history. That is the most confusing. But the fact that it confuses those in attendance does not mean that it is any less fun to attend. The past couple of weeks I have been to a few festivals (Boise peeps, think Basque festival, all other peeps, don't be offended that I am comparing Basque festivals to Galician festivals, to the untrained eye they seem to be the same). This is all relevant, promise.

 

First ice cream of the season and a trip to the park

 

Old Town

 

Tapas with a view of the Ferris Wheel

Santiago has come alive since the sun came out, and nowhere in the Old Town can one escape the sounds of bagpipes, guitars and on certain corners, a sitar and a didjeridu. May 4th was the celebration of San Pedro (probably) and Ángel, Becca and I went to Rua de San Pedro to browse the booths filled with homemade arts and crafts, listen to music by local bands and watch as the Galician gradually raised their level of intoxication, by nightfall Galician was slurred all around Rua de San Pedro and the Old Town. Becca and I followed the day by a trip to the carnival that has been set up in the park for almost two weeks (this weekend is its last one). We treated ourselves to chocolate covered churros and a ride on the Ferris Wheel that we dubbed 'The Santiago Eye'. However, instead of being a normal Ferris Wheel that goes slowly and pauses so the riders can enjoy the view, it sped us around and around, but stopped once for more people to get on (and I was able to sneak in a quick photo of Santiago).

 

 Festival of San Pedro

 Traditional Galician music

 Angel's breakfast

 Costumes for the children's show

 Yelling at his neighbors, who have a terrace, but he didn't let that make him miss the good time

Drunk break-dancers

 Concert with Becca

 Becca chowing the churros

Fingers crossed, the Wheel was a bit shaky

 Santiago from the Ferris Wheel

This last weekend Becca and I went to Noia for a day, the closest beach town. We walked along the boardwalk and then turned to the houses tucked into the hillside. The alleys wound us around houses and churches and a cemetery. There were elderly couples sitting on plastic lawns chairs on the corners of their lots, and Becca and I know we were the most exciting thing (if not the only thing) to pass by all day. When we turned back, a woman stopped us to ask if we got lost looking for the beach (keep in mind this town is on the coast of the Atlantic...it's hard to lose the beach if you're not trying), I told her we were just walking, she was so confused and proceeded to ask if were headed back to find the beach. I told her 'No, it's time for ice cream.' Her and her family laughed at the silly tourists wandering through alleyways and talking about ice cream. Hands down our favourite old Galician of the day was the man we saw crash his scooter. As he came around the corner near the bus station, he hit a pot hole, fell over and off flew his helmet, and across the street we ran to help him. I help him up asking if he's OK, set his scooter upright (as he was ignoring me and just staring at it), then he looks at me and says 'Well help me push the damn thing!' So after getting it to the side of the street, he finally starts to talk to me. Never once did he answer my question 'Are you OK?', he did inform of the need to go to the shop the following day and that the wheels were broken and how it was just the biggest pain ever. Finally I told him to go into the bus station to use their phone and call his family to pick him up. While he was gone another man starts trying to use his English with Becca and me 'Eeez droonk?' (the Spanish believe this is the proper way to say 'Is he drunk?'), until the scooter man came back out. He comes straight up to me (sitting on a bench nowhere near his scooter) saying over and over in Galician (like any elderly Galician, Galician is all he spoke) 'So f***ed up, so f***ed up', making me believe maybe I don't speak Galician like I thought. Then he rolled up his pants leg to the quad to show us his cut up knee. Then went and hopped on his scooter (which 10 minutes before was in his words completely destroyed) and left. Then a homeless man came up to us and started miming the accident and making grunting noises to reenact the whole scene. Including the part where I ran across the street to get the scooter, and the behind the scenes scene of the man calling home. He didn't say any real words, just 'Eh Eh EEEEEEE Eh'. So f***ed up.

 Low tide

 There were lots of wrecked ships left on the shore

 Out for a trot

 Panoramic of Noia at low tide

 Noia's cathedral

 Tied boat, with lots of slack, and fish with giant lips

 Becca and I at high tide

 Wind turbines, toxos and the ocean

 Waiting for their hubbies and chattering away

<3

Last week was a two day work week, because there was a strike on Thursday, my third day at the school, so I had a surprise five day weekend, and no work. This week was also a two day work week, because Wednesday is San Isidro Day in Rois (my school's town) and they take the weekend to celebrate. And I am taking it to go to Morocco.