Sadly, the last post, this one and most likely some to come will begin with "a couple weeks ago" as I've apparently had more important things to do than update. Sometimes The Sims 3 just calls, you know?
A couple weeks ago (sigh), David and I were sitting here in the apartment debating about whether or not to attend the party in Sitges. Sitges is a beautiful little city situated between Barcelona and Cubelles. It's a popular tourist destination, especially with "our people", as it has a thriving gay community and nightlife. I'd spent an afternoon there during David's vacation time (the same week we visited Cambrils and Tarragona), but much like Gracia prior to attending its annual festival, I had yet to see it in its true glory. Debatably, I still haven't, as it hosts one of the craziest Carnaval parties in Spain, an event I'm both looking forward to and dreading as David's friends have the obligatory tradition of dressing in coordinating drag costumes.
David and I were exhausted from all the partying. We still hadn't quite recovered from the Cubelles party. We eventually rested on the decision to... well, rest. I was taking a nap when David received a call from his friend, Gloria. Gloria has a very exuberant personality, and is endowed with the never-failing gift of talking you into doing things you're really not in the mood for. The baffling thing is that she doesn't use any legitimate arguments in doing so, but relies solely on her distinctively expressive voice and high squeals to distract and perplex you. She's much like Jasper from the Twilight Saga, except instead of transmitting calm, sedative vibes; she makes everyone around her damn perky.
A few hours later, the whole gang was packed like sardines in a train departing from Cubelles. It was unusually hot on this night, and there wasn't even a hint of a breeze. The only distraction from the heat was the aura of excitement radiating from the crowd. It was obvious these people waited all year for this. And to think I'd pleaded David to stay at home and sleep.
Just as in Cubelles, the night was initiated by an impressive fireworks show. This was not your average show. You would think by now, they would lose their allure, but Spain continues to blow my mind with the ingenuity of these presentations. They really know how to fire up a crowd.
The presentation was divided into phrases, like a beautiful piece of music. For about a half hour your eyes were bouncing from focal to point to focal point. Flames cascaded from the prominently placed cathedral. They emerged from the water, raining sparks on the sea of boats docked just off shore to observe the show. The most creative part was a series of booming works used to form a rhythm. The crowd clapped along with the "BAM... BAM... BAM BAM BAM" created by the flashing explosions. Also notable was a fountain-like display set off from a pier.
The only shame was that the lack of movement in the air, which caused the smoke to hover, created a white blanket that with each minute concealed more and more of the spectacle.
Immediately following the fireworks, our group made our way to the sand. It's such a Spanish tradition to congregate on the beach, passing around homemade cocktails and basking in the celebratory ambience. This segment of the evening was reminiscent of my first huge Spanish party, San Juan of '07. I had know idea back then that I'd be sharing many more perfect nights with the same crowd. David is blessed with some amazing friends.
This night, for me, marked a new beginning. I really bonded with each and every person. I no longer felt like an outsider. I may not be Spanish, or even speak the language very well, but I am accepted. I have a place. I have numerous friendships, all complete with hilarious stories and priceless memories.
No Spanish party is complete without dancing. My favorite kind? Dancing in the street.
Long after the party could have ended, I found some treasure partially buried in the sand: an almost full bottle of Bacardi. Some friendships are set in stone over untiring and enlightening conversation. Others, perhaps less glamorously, are locked in over mutual vomiting.
When it was time to go home, our tightly-knit group had unraveled. A part of the group boarded a train that ended its route in Vilanova, one stop prior to Cubelles. Other parts were still scattered throughout Sitges. David and I were running to catch the Cubelles train when I took a rather gruesome fall. Here we were further separated.
Oddly enough, it didn't matter. When the final train left us in a now brightly sunlit Cubelles, we all staggered out of different cars. Just like in a scene out of movie, the group gathered, as if this conclusion were planned. I was in a great deal of pain, but could have partied on longer. We posed for one more photo and called it a night... or rather, morning.