Reed hung out at “the Fireplace” café, “La Lareira,”
while I spoke to Maria del Carmen. Getting into her building and office had a
slight Kafkaesque spookiness to it, through a confusing lobby, elevator, and
secured suite of offices—but it worked—and we settled into a conversation. She
seemed surprised when I walked in. I kind of recognized her from 8 years
earlier. I said her name, she smiled and rose from a desk where another lawyer
sat, we did the double kiss and she ushered me into her office.
I learned that George, Anne and I are still
considered owners of ½ of the house. Beatriz’s efforts with the lawyer seem to
have established her ownership of ½ the house—originally Carmen’s ½ of the
house. I understand that Dolores and Carmen each inherited a one half portion
and Carmen deeded her half to Beatriz.
I thought the children had given our half of the
house to our mother and that Beatriz owns the entire house—from the notarized
agreements we provided the Spanish consulate in the US. Sounded good to me that
we still have a foothold. Maria Carmen felt that Bea could list us three as her
heirs to the house—once the title, etc., reflected the accurate numbers.
Wanted to show Reed the Ciudad Vieja part of
Coruna. I have good memories of the area around Plaza de Maria Pita and the
galerias— the rows of windows above the plaza. I imagine the 1500s and
cartographers, navigators, and financiers planning the voyages of sailing ships
to the New World from those offices. Who know? In any case, we never got there.
I went back to the Fireplace to get Reed.
I was relieved to have completed the lawyerly
obligations and ordered a “cortado,” coffee cut with mike, and a tapas-size
serving of “tortilla de espinaca,” omelet of spinach. Really got a generous
amount of omelet. The waiter, a warm, friendly youth with a high-pitched laugh,
shared his excitement about an upcoming trip to Ft. Lauderdale, including a
visit to Disney World. He added some pulpo (octopus) to my order. I told Mona
that we ate so much octopus on this trip I thought suckers would start
sprouting from my forearms. The Gallegos are friendly, as Rick Steves said. I’m
thinking of the high-energy waiter at Costa Vella Hotel who joked he had tried
Reed’s cheese. He’s the one who poked his head into our Mercedes taxi and said
“the presidents car!” I was full after the tortilla and pulpo and cortado, and
feeling some accomplishment having made the meeting with the attorney.
Reed and I left Outiero street and headed down the
hill towards the beach. The beach was starting to rock in anticipation of the
San Juan celebration—St. John the Baptist, name day for me, and the traditional
celebration all about sardines (sardinas), bonfires and drinking. They built a
funny papier mache statue with witches (una bruja) with broom and sweeping away
Donald Trump with his hair and red tie. Trump was depicted riding a bull and a
Mexican guy in stereotypical sombrero and colorful blanket stood nearby. They
would all be fed to the flames. The Gallegos seem to refer to St. John’s day as
“sardinas”—indicating the primary importance of grilling the fish on the beach
while the bonfires burn and the alcohol flows.
I mentioned having seen topless sunbathers at A
Coruna beach in 2007 and, sure enough, the beach featured more than a few,
well-endowed beauties sunning themselves topless atop their beach blankets.
These sights, along with La Lareira, seemed to satisfy Reed with the A Coruna
sojourn. We sought refuge from the sun and climbed about a bus, #11 I believe.
With the street name Outeiro on the itinerary. We got out, with some help from
a Spanish youth wearing a Tupac T-shirt. “Tupac’s the best rapper ever,” he
said. His advice was solid and we made our way to the autobus station for the
hot ride, made worse by rush hour traffic, back to Sada.
Soon after we returned to Sada, Fernando came by,
rang the door bell and presented a huge flan from Amparito and plums from a
friend’s orchard, and some embroidery gifts for my mother. I suggested an
interest to “dar un paseo” and Fernando planned to return around 6:30 PM to
take a walk around town. Though it turned out to be a great walk, well
photographed by me, and later praised by Reed—the entire day turned out to 9
miles of walking! That is an accurate count— compliments of my trusty
pedometer.
Fernando took us across the Sada marina over to the
beautiful rows of yachts and then up the hill to Fontan. Fontan has rows of
wooden house with shutters painted bright colors. Fernando explained the paint
was often left over from the painting of boats and that explains the bright
reds and orange/copper colors of the doors and shutters. Boats are mainly
fiberglass now and my guess the bright colors are a more a nostalgic callback
to the era of wooden boats.
We made it to the top of the hill and my energy
began to flag. As we headed back through the marina, past cafes and restaurant
tables, I asked Fernando, “maybe stop here?... or here?” We could tell the
local businesses were preparing for Sardinas Night—St. John celebration.
Finally he found the place, a café called La Parilla (Grill) or La Parillarada.
Not sure. The waiter quickly got us three Estrella Galicia beer and pulled out
a white paper tablecloth. Reed felt expansive and ordered a pulpo and a green
salad. The meal began with a neat “pincho,” an actual freebie of a fried egg
atop potato chops and some tomatoes. Fernando approved of the pincho—and we all
relaxed with eating, talking and comraderie. And I was exhausted as we neared
the 9 mile mark.
I had no energy, unfortunately, for Sardinas at the
Playa de Sada. Went to be exhausted. Woke up, read McLuhan and fell asleep
later at 12:30 AM and didn’t rise till 9:30 AM, a long sleep for me.
travel day-- 6/23/17
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