Photo: Dia de la Cruz
Having been going on about snooker for two weeks, one of my colleagues said he’d take me to a snooker hall last Friday evening.
He hadn’t been for years so wasn’t sure what sort of standard it would be and I can see why he warned me. The ‘hall’ consisted of a bar, a table of old men playing cards and one pool table that could have used a new cloth decades ago – and they had the cheek to charge €1.50 a game! We quickly moved on to somewhere else. This second place was more like an arcade, probably aimed at teenagers. There were 6 or so pool tables and we played for around an hour. (7-2 to me)
Afterwards we went to meet some of his friends at a local bar. Apparently this bar is where all the good looking people go (why haven’t I come here sooner?!) It was a swish place with some fancy tapas and his friend’s made me feel very welcome. We moved on to a couple of other places and by about 2am I was well fed, suitably tipsy and ready for bed.
Monday 3rd May was Día de la Cruz (Day of the Cross) in Spain, and just like in Easter Week, there were a whole bunch of traditions that I was about to become accustomed to. Plazas in the town centre had displays featuring a large floral red cross, decorated with among other things, pottery, copper pans and an apple with scissors stuck in it.
Five years ago every year during the weekend of this holiday bars would be set up next to the displays, and people from all over Spain would come to have a party on the streets. Naturally this led to a lot of drunken people pissing and sleeping outside, which meant families with young children couldn’t get involved with the real traditions of the event. Since then, the government has banned these bars from setting up outside, but the fiesta very much continues inside.
After working during the morning, we went straight out for lunch at a bar with its own display, serving traditional drinks. I can’t remember for the life of me the names of these drinks but they were both wine based, and both very strong. Despite being warned, and only having a few I could feel the effect they had. I went home for a siesta and come 9pm I was back out fresh as a daisy to pick up where I left off.
A few days later my aunt and uncle arrived for a whistle-stop tour of Granada. Despite my (occasional) protests, they insisted on buying every drink and meal for me over the course of their stay. In exchange I took them to all the places the cool kids go, (the one’s I’ve discovered, anyway) and like I was initially, they were amazed at the quality and variety of free tapas just waiting to be sampled.
New phrase of the day: Estoy de broma = I’m joking!
Adam Saunders