Luckydog Adventures: Meeting People in Alicante, Part 1

Our time in Alicante is nearly up; on Thursday next we will be flying out (at 6AM! Ouch) and moving on to Bergen, Norway. We’re starting to panic: what haven’t we seen yet/ what haven’t we done. And, what will happen next, when we don’t wake up in the same bed and step out onto the same street that has become so familiar?

And, more topically: What’s been going on lately?

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It happened again!

“Paul. Paul!” I thought I heard my name being called. But we were walking on that crazy, geometric walkway along the crowded beach. Must have been just a random noise. I mean, who could be calling me? We only know about, oh, I don’t know, six people in town?

Paula finally turned around ((maybe it was her name I heard) and there were two of our new expat friends, on their way to a xiringuito (beach bar). We accepted their invitation to join them and spent the next two hours (three?) talking and drinking sangria with the blue Mediterranean in the background.

The original Xiringuito Beach Bar

As she always does, Paula had contacted an expat organization here in Alicante to meet people and learn a bit about the area and what long-term foreign residents do here. Now it seems like we’re always running into people we know, even though we know hardly anyone.

The next day we were off on a quest to get our transport card. This card, available only to those 60 years and older, allows unlimited travel on the tram for the low, low price of only 10€ per month. And since the tram runs far up the coast, it's an intriguing way of exploring the many small beach communities. Paula was quick to apply for our cards.

Ok, so there's this funny video about bureaucracy in Spain. A young woman enters a government office to apply for a permit, and ends up engaging in a battle of wills with the clerk. After a series of thrusts and counters, she finally emerges victorious as the once-invincible clerk is left slumped on his desk.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wtbQUaC9mE

It's quite humorous – until it happens to you! We submitted our forms and showed our passports. Ah but we needed to submit copies of the passports. Ok, so we got copies and resubmitted. It would take seven to 10 days, we were told. That was two weeks ago. Three times we've been back to pick up our cards. Each time the clerk searched through the box of transport cards. Well, not yet. Come back Monday after 2 o'clock.

There are two weeks left before we need to leave Alicante. Will the cards arrive, or still be lost in the bowels of the transport agency? Tune in next month to find out... (Cue organ music.)

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A concert of traditional music, held in the acoustically sharp stone walls of the castle that overlooks Alicante

Concerts. We’ve been going to concerts. Seems there’s one every week, sometimes more. There was the series at the Modern Art museum put on by students from the school. There was the one at the former cigar factory, with various neighborhood groups. And there was the truly extraordinary concert at Casa Mediterranio with the international group NES.

“Three musicians, three instruments, three languages.” Nesrine Belmokh, from Algeria, has a beautiful, compelling voice and covered the three languages in question: Arabic, French, and a very clear American-standard English. Her drummer was, what, French? And the bassest, Spanish.

It was a dramatic setting, a smaller, intimate room in the restored train station that now serves as an event center in Alicante. The music was jazzy, upbeat – not my experience of Arabic music! It was enchanting – the entire audience was spellbound. And while most members appeared to be Spanish, everyone was singing along with the compelling final number, “Ain’t No Sunshine when She’s Gone.” Yeah, we bought a CD (I got it signed, too!) Now we just need to find a CD player.

Nesrine and her band, NES

Also at the concert were Teresa, our apartment manager, and her friend and other client, Elinore, the Cuban lady from Florida staying here for a few weeks. We all headed off to a restaurant where Teresa had invited a few other women. Whew, talk about a lively time! At one point Paula asked these Spanish-speakers a simple question: what’s the difference between “Claro!” and “Vale!” (pronounced balley, sort of). These are both expressions that we hear all the time, sort of like “OK! OK!” I never gave much thought to any actual meaning.

But boy oh boy, what a discussion followed! There was a lot of arm waving, finger pointing, and the occasional raised voice. It went on for quite a while, partially because one woman was from Argentina, and had a different view of the language. Since it was all in Spanish I didn’t really follow it, but now every time we hear the word “clairo!” Paula and I grin and nod to each other.

We manage to make it out of the restaurant...

Dinner finally over, it was time to move on to the next event, an underground bar that Teresa knew about. And by underground I mean below street level. There was this low door, and we descended half a dozen steps into a low-ceilinged cave. Not a large place, and not yet crowded. It was still early, not quite midnight. The place was covered with notes, slips of paper stuck on the walls and ceiling. We each had the bar’s specialty drink, a mojito (Paula and I shared one, as many bottles of wine had been consumed with dinner, and we still had to find our way home). What actually happened there is now a blur, but I found these pictures on my camera, so I know I was there….