Transnational Bonding In Alicante
‘Do you like Amy?’ she asks as we sip on red wine and eat the tomato, tuna and plantain dinner she has has made. I’m sat on a stool at the bar in the kitchen eating with her (she is middle aged) and a young man I previously thought was her son, but later deduce throughout the night is her boyfriend. I don’t tell her that I don’t really like tomatoes, that I really dislike red wine and it’s probably the first time I’m drinking it in at least 5 years, and that I prefer my plantains fried not boiled, sweet, and with a touch of salt. I eat and drink everything and tell her it was wonderful.
You see hospitality is a two-way street. Sometimes you eat and drink things you don’t like to build the bonds that you need, at the time that you need, and to show your respect and appreciation. And by the time my glass was half empty, I could’ve sworn I was starting to acclimatise to if not like the taste of the wine. She is my host, and I am determined to find common ground through my broken Spanish, her broken English and our outgoing personalities.
I don’t have to try very hard.
She’s the kind of person that if you had one language in common, you’d sit and chat for hours. Well…we kind of did that anyway, but the gaps in language were supplemented by music food and laughter. I tell her yes I love Amy, we talk about the tragedy of her untimely death, our favourite Amy songs…and she gets out her tablet, some portable speakers, turns the volume up full whack…and we literally listen to a playlist of Amy’s best songs and sing along for about half an hour. It’s my first night in Urbanova and it’s so surreal but so endearing. Her boyfriend’s understanding of English is very limited so we speak less, but he tries to understand what he can and joins in with smiles and some questions.
I ask her if she’s always lived in Urbanova and she tells me no, she comes from Venezuela and moved here because of the general mounting crisis in Venezuela over the past few years. She also has a son here. She asks me if I’ve been and I tell her I haven’t but I’ve been close…Trinidad, lol. She asks me if I like Venezuelan music, I reply that I can’t be sure I’ve heard it ‘is it like Reggaeton? I love Reggaeton’ ‘Si!’ and there begins another hour or so listening to Reggaeton at full whack, her sharing with me her favourite songs, me adding them to my Spotify playlist, and answering questions about myself and why I’m in Urbanova for the weekend.
In due time we go off to bed and sleep and I know that I will love my time in Alicante.
The next day I spend in the city due to the weather being milder. I walk through the maze of streets, go to the docks, sit in the indecisive weather (sunshine and drizzle) and read for a bit whilst my feet recover. I then see a mountain in the far distance, with tiny specks of people on it and I think ‘that’s cool’. At some point between ‘that’s cool’, ‘I’m hungry’ and ‘what do I do next’, that first thought turned into ‘let me find it and get the lift up’, which turned into ‘where are these gat damn lifts? These signs are lying. I’m basically halfway up now’, which turned into ‘For f___ sake just walk all the way to the top’.
My shoulders and my ankles are screaming – imagine walking at a 45 to 50 degree angle up a 166m mountain. But it is worth it. The views from Castillo de Santa Bárbara are outstanding. So outstanding that I see a photographer almost plummet to his death whilst taking photos on an edge of the summit with a border of only about 30-60cm high. We share a little surprised laugh after the initial shock as I think to myself ‘You’re lucky God said not today, not like this’.
The next day is beach day and it is blazing hot. I roam the promenade and find somewhere to place myself whilst I read. Earlier I spend a few moments with my feet in the sea. I’m not in the mood for swimming but as long as my feet have touched the sea I’m good.
The evening entails a farewell meal with my host and her boyfriend, more conversations in broken Spanish and English and then it’s time to go.
It was short but sweet.