Malos Aires – Vigo, Spain

Slept in again and didn’t get into Vigo until well after noon. I had gone up to they gym for the morning exercise class at 8am but was told it and all other classed were cancelled for the day. A little disheartened I crawled back into my bed to sleep off the disappointment. Without Shawn there to inspire and push me, I really could get up the gumption. I decided I would walk up a storm in town instead.

As I wandered up and down the crooked streets noticing that most of the stores were shut. I frowned at my own negligence to remember that here they observe siesta. As I glanced at the hours of operation pasted on the window, most were indeed closed from 130-430pm, exactly the time allotment I had left for myself. I guessed it wasn’t too bad of a situation as I really wasn’t there to shop anyway. Still, I like to have the option.

I proceeded to go on my merry little way snapping photos of statues here and buildings there. It was a little annoying to have to manuver around the trash heaps piled up on every block. Some were taller than me and boy did they stink! They say that scent memory recall is extremely powerful and I had a vague recollection of a stench very familiar.

I observed the countless piles of doggie doo-doo carelessly left behind on the sidewalks. Last time I had turn on my turd-alert I was living in Argentina. I began noticing that the signage, the locals, the architecture, and even the flora struck a chord very close to home. I realized that this port city of almost 300,000 was reminiscent of Buenos Aires in so many ways.

I swallowed my sentimentality and trudged up the steeply inclined cobblestone streets trying to stay present. It was slightly difficult not to allow myself to be flashed back to my life back in South America several years ago.

Drunk with nostalgia, I got lost on Av Camelias. I ambled up Gran Via and past Praza de Espana into El Castro. This fortress is surrounded by a lush peaceful park filled with hundreds of kinds of trees and flowers. After stopping briefly to take in the stunning view of the bay where our ship was docked, I hurried back down through the steep snaky roads to get back on board.

Throughout the day, I had stopped in every little fruit stand and supermarket I could find to look for cherimoyas. Only one store had three and they were almost rotten, bruised beyond edibility. I had almost given up on finding my delicacy until the very last minute when I discovered one very perfect cherimoya just waiting for me. Yum.

Grateful for nostalgia.

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