Domingo en Vigo

I woke up at 10.30 this morning and was keen to get up and out of bed so as to avoid the potentially awkward situation of Pedro and Hilary wanting to get on with their day but being afraid to disturb me. By 2pm I was beginning to wonder if they were even in the flat as I tip toed round the flat, eating an orange and trying to detect sounds for other life forms. I was just finishing skyping my mum when I heard Pedro's favourite London radio station in the kitchen and a hand peeped through my door holding a note saying 'coffee and toast?' with diagrams. We had black coffee in glasses like Audrey Hepburn does in Breakfast at Tiffany's and jammy toast with Oreos. Afterwards we went to the park and looked at the views of Vigo's port. Pedro pointed out the hundreds of Citroen cars, which were made in the nearby factory, waiting to be shipped out, as well as the fishing ships. Then we sat down and had pork sandwiches whilst Hilary passionatly expressed her love for the shitzu dog, which Pedro did not seem to share. Walking into central Vigo there was a lot of commotion as people lined the streets in anticipation for the parade. The motley crew ascended Vigo's steep hill in an eclectic mix of costumes, from Vikings to flamenco dancers, there did not seem to be recurring theme or concept for the parade. The main attraction was the ginormous nodding mammoth from Ice Age, which struggled up the hill, with Gallician children in dodo costumes confidently dancing beneath it.

As the day drew to a close, we wandered through the dilapidated old town towards the sea and had a drink in an a tapas bar. Pedro showed me pictures of the Galician countryside which could have been of Wales, it was so lush and green. We drove home to the flat and had spinach and mushroom stir fry with salad whilst watching Breaking Bad, which I had introduced Pedro to. It was almost 1 by the time I got to bed, with my back pack ready but my mind apprehensive for the next day.

Landing in Vigo

Saying goodbye to my mum at the airport was pretty tough :( but the sorrow was soon replaced by crazy panic as I went through the security barriers and realised I hadn't contacted the bank to say I was going abroad. I'd only been away from home for 10 minutes and already I was frantically and recklessly texting all my bank details to mum. Independence is overrated. 

Madrid Jueves airport is pretty strange. After landing half an hour late, passengers were encouraged by cabin crew to adopt a running trot out of the plane and towards waiting buses which shuttled us to the various terminals. After having my hand luggage scanned again I waited with one other person, a middle aged platinum blonde Spanish lady in wet-look everything and reptile cowboy boots, for a bus to another terminal. The only place to get food was a sit-down steak house which was neither within my budget or time frame so after boarding the plane I ordered a toastie which didn't arrive until we began our descent into Vigo. I insisted on practicing my broken Spanish on my fellow passenger Marta and I think the site of her sea side homeland was probably a relief. 

My first couch surfing host, Pedro, met me at arrivals and welcomed me in English with a definite london accent. I was very taken aback and walked in silence next to him for a while, weighing up the likely hood that he was English with a name like Pedro and acid wash jeans. I confronted him as to what his nationality was and he was pretty bemused - he said he liked to watch Inbetweeners and Little Britain, which seemed like a good enough answer so I got in his car and went to the beach. There we met his girlfriend Hilary and a couple of his friends, and we walked along the beach which was so beautiful with this wood of trees which looked like pines running right up to the water. Pedro told me it was known as the 'horror woods' as it was a popular site for cottaging..... 

Pedro helped me get a Spanish Vodafone sim, I couldn't help but think how I would have managed this without him. Afterwards we went to Hilary's flat to help her set up for a friends surprise birthday party. The flat was proper awesome - the land lady had pasted loads of DVD covers around the dining area as a sort of border, she clearly had a penchant for Woody Allen, and the walls were a really friendly lime green. Me and this girl Dora peeled potatoes for the Spanish omelettes Pedro was making and listened to Mumford and Sons, it was pretty surreal. Dora was from Taiwan and had been in Vigo as a student studying Spanish but more recently had been travelling around Europe, with her parents money she was quick to confess. She was so cute and had hair like Jackie O. by the time it got to midnight I was proper shattered and had a headache so Dora gave me this packet of yellow Tai painkillers for me to take and I slinked off to the sofa to have tiger sized cat nap. At two in the morning the party dispersed to various clubs but I was gone to the land of nod, whatever was in those pills was very nice. Hilary and Pedro scooped me into his Skoda at 5am and went back to his flat where I enjoyed that proper dreamy second slumber that you only get after all your worries have been put to rest. Good first day.