OK boys and girls it's time for another episode of Nancy's Spanish Adventures. Today has been less eventful than past days but interesting nonetheless, but you be the judge. I love cornflakes in Spain. I have no idea why this happens, but in 2012 when I was living with a Spanish family in Salamanca I ate cornflakes with milk and sugar every day for breakfast and loved it. In that household yogurt was something you ate for desert in the evening. She had other stuff for breakfast, but I loved me some cornflakes.
I never eat cornflakes in the United States. If I occasionally eat cold cereal at a motel buffet breakfast, it is raisin bran. It is not like corn flakes are somehow different in Spain, which is the case with olives, but don't get me started on olives. The corn flakes here say Kellogg's Original on the box. The only difference from the boxes in the United States is that all the information is in Spanish. They contain Vitamina D, not Vitamin D. I don't really believe they contain much of anything useful in either language, but I love them in Spain.
So you can imagine my surprise and delight when Stephen showed me the flat last evening and there on the kitchen counter was a big full box of corn flakes and a partially empty box as well. I squealed with pleasure, causing Stephen to look at me a little alarmed. lol I think he thought I was having a seizure or had turned out to be slightly deranged. lol I didn't tell him about the brain tumor.
After he left I checked the frig, and there was milk (leche) I checked the cupboard and there was sugar (azucar.) I was in heaven. I was too tired to go out for a bite last night, so I had corn flakes for dinner, three bowls full.
This morning I went down to the corner cafe and had café con leche, in which the proprietor drew a fern design with the steamed milk. Some of my friends of unclean mind saw something else, but we won't go there. Shame on you! hehehe I also had a fresh warm croissant with butter (mantiquilla) and jam (mermelada.) Oh my God, so yummy.
So much for my gastric adventures. Hi ho, hi ho it's off to work I go, or went. It is crazy busy in the Pilgrim's Office. Summer is the busiest time of the year and the 25th being the Feast of Saint James (Santiago,) it's even busier. There is almost always a long line coming up the stairs speaking a variety of languages, tired from the Camino, excited to have finished and and earned their Compostela, emotional in all sorts of ways, and even sometimes a little cranky.
I have to try to explain in at least English and Spanish, as best I can, in a friendly way, that everyone should please have their credential ready and in their own hand, because it makes things go faster. And sometimes the line creeps forward and I have to ask everyone to move back, again in Spanish and English, and explain this is necessary so that the people who have received their credential can get out the door and those who are waiting can get in.
There are anywhere from four to seven people writing Compostelas and my job has been, so far to get the people, one at a time, to the people available to write their Compostelas. This involves much running about to check if someone is available to write the Compostela, then back to get the pilgrim's attention, and guide them to the right space. Meanwhile problems arise. Some people are in families or have been walking together and want to go in to get their Compostelas together. This is understandable, but very difficult because the space is small and the backpacks (mochillas) are big. But sometimes they insist and just go on through. Most folks are nice about it. Sometimes, it is a parent and a child and they need to go together. It is a special time for all of the pilgrims and I need to try very hard not to detract from it.
Meanwhile the paid employees get irritated if a person is not sent to them right away. So I have to scurry. The pilgrims are often fumbling with their heavy packs and walking sticks, and are slow moving. Again understandable. At a minimum these folks have just waled sixty miles, usually more than that. Today someone had walked from Le Puy in France which is a little over one thousand miles.
I was exhausted after an hour. I only worked four hours but it felt like six. When some other Amigos (volunteers like me) and they said I could go now, I thought I was getting fired, because I thought I was working six hours. I might be just a tad sensitive.
So after I was dismissed (lol) I went and bought a proper coffee maker, went to the tattoo shop and arranged to get a tattoo tomorrow at 17:00. We talked about what I want and he is going to draw up a sketch. He lived in New York for three years and that is where he learned to tattoo.
I came home took a short nap, dreamed I was fired from a job. I wonder where that came from? hehehe
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