Valladolid

When I arrived in Valladolid it was hot, really hot. I traipsed through the city, wilting under the weight of my rucksack and trying to find the tourist office to get some maps for the Madrid Camino, which I would be starting the next day. I got a call from an unknown number and from what I could make out through the sound of traffic passing me by they were one of Carlos' friends offering me a couch in Valladolid for tomorrow night. I thanked them kindly but said that I already had a host and I was leaving the city the next day. I walked through the park, oblivious to the fact that I had spoken to my planned-hosts-boyfriend and therefore, inadvertently, cancelled all our arrangements, and enjoyed the peacocks.

Lidia at the tourist office was awesome. We talked for ages and I acquired some maps, some of which were useful, and I left envisaging a new life as a city girl working in a tourist office, with great clothes and fabulous hair. It was getting late by this time though, so I messaged Alicia to let her know I'd arrived in Valladolid. Then I went to a bar and bought a coke so that I could sap their wifi for two hours.

I met Alicia and her great Alsatian-cross breed in the early evening by one of the entrances to the park and we drove to the flat she shared with her Polish boyfriend Richard. It was only then that I realised the confusion I had caused and felt bad that they had cleaned their whole flat with me. As Alicia bought food I showered, and when she came back we talked about extracting the essential oils from various plants and I tried her homemade body cream. Alicia cooked these eely looking things on the hob and I put on Fat Freddy and we were having such interesting conversations that by the time Richard arrived home from work I felt fantastic. 'Are you drunk?' was his preliminary greeting which only slightly deflated my umpteenth fit of giggles before I looked in the mirror and was dismayed to find my entire head was glowing red. I collected myself over my plate of steaming eely things and salad and tried not to touch the wine. 

Afterwards Richard put on a film for me about the International Brigade in Spain during the Civil War and we all spread out on the sofa with the dog like a happy family. 

The next morning I went with Richard to walk the dog and get churros, and we talked literature. Richards hair is waist length and I eyed it enviously as I dunked my churros, searching for split ends in his well-conditioned mane. We sat there, two foreigners, and contemplated our adopted country with all it's oddities. I spoke of the casual racism I had encountered on my trip and Richard pointed out that there were far less class barriers in Spain than in England, which totally blew my mind because of its truthfulness. It made me think of Grayson Perry's tapestries on class and wether he could produce an equivalent here, in Spain. It's an idea I'm still developing, I've only seen a bit of the country and I can't pretend I know it like a native, but I think the people here believe they have a right to enjoy life in a way we just don't in England. 

I spent most of the rest of the day with Alicia, talking about everything and anything, and falling in love with this kooky couple and their dog who I would soon have to leave. There were things that I'd been able to say and think with these people that I wouldn't know how to tell my closest friends. This experience is so strange; I'm writing a blog which anyone can read but at the same time there's so much happening in my head which I can't write, sometimes it feels like all these words are half-truths. I'm thinking about that guy in the sky a lot too. And love, how I love all my people so much but I've all this time being angry, which I don't understand because I have everything. Maybe one day I'll know how to write this stuff.