This past weekend I went with Jesus to the kickboxing championship of Andalucia in Huelva. I was really needing to get out of Cordoba, so it was a welcomed break from the routine. I also thought as much as it's going to be ackward waiting for him all weekend and being that strange foreigner who gets quiet sometimes because she is overwhelmed by yet another set of vocabulary, I kept thinking about how important is was to support Jesus in his sporting endeavors and that when and if he comes to the U.S. with me, I will most certainly want him to support me in my important endeavors; although, at times he will feel uncomfortable. So, I went under the knowledge that it is not about ME, but about HIM at this moment.
I rode with Jesus, one of his friends who was also competing and one of their trainers. We listened to music the whole way and then swung by, you guessed it, McDonalds as soon as we got to Huelva. Boys!!! Are they not the same all over the world? hehe. However, the two boys competing the following day couldn't really eat much due to needing to make weight the next morning for the fight. We stayed in Jesus' friend's family apartment. It seems like a large percentage of Spaniards have a second apartment in another city, usually near a beach, in addition to their apartment in Cordoba. It's like a family thing so all the members can go there, kind of like a family cabin that we would maybe have in the U.S. I suppose. It's kind of a strange thing for me to see since in the U.S. this trend definitely isn't AS common. In fact sometimes I think I will never be able to buy ONE house, let alone 2. And the economy and unemployment rate is more than double that of the U.S. and daily you hear about "la crisis" and how Spain is in such economic trouble. But yet the bars and restaurants are still full and the many people still have more than one apartment. I am thinking this must be old money or inheritance that allows for the extra apartments. Anyhow, just something that confuses me but back to the original story at hand.
The next morning at 9 30 am the boys weighed in. Jesus weighed just slightly over, almost 2 lbs, but they let him slide. After the weigh in, of course the boys were ready to chow down a bit after a week of almost starving themselves and going without water the last 24 hours of it, in order to make weight on Saturday morning. I read my children's book in Spanish, for ages 12 and up, thank you very much, while the boys were getting weighed.
I really wanted to see Irene's (my friend and roommate from last year) mom who I hadn't seen in almost a year who lives in Huelva. I didn't know ahead of time really that I was going to Huelva so we basically made plans at the last minute to meet up on Saturday before Jesus' fight. Luckily she hadn't made plans and we were able to meet down town. I caught a taxi down to the center or La Palmera (a plaza in the center). She took me to a really good restaurant/bar named Azabache which I totally recommend if ever in that region looking for a quality bite to eat. I let her order since she knew the restaurant well. She did NOT disappoint. She order Corvina, a white fish that I still dont know what it is but it was served in a delicious almost mojo picon sauce, hueva de choco (cuddlefish eggs) which had a great flavor but a foreign texture for me, and a delicious scramble that I should have asked about the seasoning because it was perfect. She and I had a really great talk about Spain, my blog, my Spanish and accent, surrounding yourself with positive people, her family and job(as a policewoman). Unfortunately I was in a hurry to see Jesus' fight so I had to get going but would have liked to stay longer. Like many Spaniards she wouldn't let me pay anything towards the bill and when I tried to go halves with her and told her it's how we do it in the U.S., she said "what, is that something you just invented?". Haha. Anyways, I am treating next time that's all I know. It was a much needed girl's lunch. She made me think about a lot of things, like all good friends do.
Then, it was fight time. Jesus only had to fight once because someone was bumped out because his nose wouldn't stop bleeding from the his prior fight that day. But he did an AMAZING job like always. Its so fun to watch him move around in there. I like his style and swagger in the ring. He, of course, won like usual. Then his friend fought and knocked out the "black mamba", a colombian guy who is in really good shape and really talented (obviously if your nickname is Black Mamba), with a kick to the side of the head/jaw. So, both boys came home with the title for their weight class. This was cause for a celebration.
That night after listening to the boys talk for HOURS about politics, money, businesses and God knows what else, we FINALLY made it to the clubs. For me this is hard because for one, I am not patient and for two, I am not used to waiting until 3 in the morning to START heading to the bars. God, I almost fell asleep in my nylons and makeup just waiting for those ding dongs to wrap up their precious conversations. Phew!!! But then again, I suppose it IS common practice and its ME that is the weird one wanting to go earlier to the clubs when nobody has even arrived yet.
When we got there, it was packed but with crappy music and weird, hideous dudes wearing scarves and holding cognac glasses and cornering me against the bar with looks of wild abandon. Then, Jesus' friend thought it would be a good idea to tell me in English, how the United States is the worst nation to EVER exist, but in not so nice words, which was a bit of a buzz kill. After choking back some tears, cuz I am just at a loss for words at this point, I pulled myself up by the boot straps with the help of a change of atmosphere/clubs and decide that the best thing I can possibly do is dance away the sorrow. And boy did it work. In fact I dont know of anything that works better for me when I am feeling down or hurt. Just dance it off. Luckily at the new club, the music was better and I was able to break it down and let my hair down a bit. Soon, I felt like myself again and was just gettin warmed up when some of the people in our group wanted to leave. Oh well, at least I got to shake my tail feathers a little bit. That was the funnest hour and a half of the trip for me right there even though as a whole, I really truly DID enjoy myself. Until we meet again Huelva York (as it says on the street graffiti).
