On the border with the ocean
In the tavern quiet and dark. Hydded sun and heat hot air barely penetrate through semi-shot shutters. The owner is a colorful figure, a meter with a cap, wears his barrel, whitewash, lazily. He climbing the angry eyes and will burst something under his breath – obviously scolds these stupid Russians who are soaked in vain, while Cadiz rests and all the respectable people in the power of the Siesta. Sergey and I are the only visitors and even in part to discharge the tense atmosphere, my friend who knows a bit in Spanish, orders something about one and a half liters of wine, as well as a snack to choose a host and invites the last to the table. On the lips, the local sommelier arises a kind of smile and once again decency sighing deeply, he fulfills an order and sit down.
By the time we decided to repeat the wine program, the last ice creation in relations with Jose (so it turned out to be the name of the owner) finally melted. The shortness recognized us as pleasant interlocutors and completely relaxed. Rotated pupils, he is already quite good-natured. All his wide face, brown from the sun, and with a pronounced Gypsy mustard, was the warlike. His endless approach The location was emphasized by the familiarly exhibited almost completely naked chest covered with brown vegetation.
To hell with the rule! Excellent fish and a wide variety of seafood. We are plentifully irrigated in red, local origin, dry wine – tart and binders like a blackfold rowan. Wine has placed to food; acute, abundantly flavored food – to drinking. All this cycle was performed under the rocomes of an endless conversation, and José noddly nodded his head, even when I was forgetful to be pushed in Russian. The lack of vocabulary, however, was compensated by desperate gesticulation, and if at least someone looked at us from the outside, he would probably think: "These guys will now take".Encyclopedic Cognition Jose just amazed. To begin with, he with an incredible aplomb stated that Moscow is the capital of Russia. We were forced to agree. He then added that in his opinion, in winter it is somewhat cold in Russia, and again hit the point! After such a brilliant preliminary demonstration of knowledge, we trusted the following reports to Jose with children’s simplicity.
Lucky scratching chest after the next inspired, our host announced that Cadiz is the most important and beautiful city of the coast, and is American gates of Spain.Cadiz is really very beautiful. It preserved many historical buildings of the most diverse architecture, which are cut by endless beautiful alleys. From the view of a bird’s eye view, the city seems green due to a variety of gardens. Relatively "American gate" Jose was also right, of course, if you imagine that we moved by car time in the XVI century, when most of the military and merchant ships went to America. No wonder coastal waters keep the remains of many medieval ships at its bottom. José persistently recommended us to do underwater swimming in order to search for treasures. He himself, however, diving is not fond of the lack of free time, but knows one guy who’s greatly frowning hands on this divided the second place on the beauty of the owner set Granada. After detailed painting beauty, Alhambra suddenly turned out that Jose himself because of the lack of free time in Granada was not, but he knows one guy who did not just attend this city, but lives there and can tell me so much that it is not necessary to ride anywhere.
– And what place you put Seville? – asked with indignation Sergey. After a day excursion, even in the heat, he was clearly fascinated by this city.
– Well, Seville is too big to compare it with. Grandowa, – Diplomatically answered Jose.
Having learned that in Cadis we only travel and generally on the coast of Costa de la Luz (Light Coast), the owner immediately resented us a couple of hotels for stops: the four-star Monasterio San Miguel, and even the Spanish King Hoang Karlos himself was resting, and fifteen Minutes from Cadiz in a small pine-eucalyptus grove Three-star Dunas Puerto Hotel, with very cozy family bungalows, large swimming pool and garden. Square Sergey, insulted for Seville, asked if José himself rested in these hotels. To this remark, the good-natured owner quite reasonably answered that hotels are being built for foreigners, but he knows a few tourists, whose tastes are quite divided.When our stomachs came up about Litra on his brother, the conversation went about Flamenco. What is shown by the visitors on Canar, according to Jose, – Theater. The dancers seemed to be only with the podium. They, of course, please the eye and give an idea of Flamenco, but their performances are too professional.
– We, – Gondo rotates Jose’s pupils – only we have a real flamenco. One of my friend, weight probably with a one-year-old bitch, immense bust and waist dancing as they all did not dream. You see, there are not dancing here for tourists, not for money, but just for yourself, right on the street
New visitors appear in the tavern. Our owner and the buddy will again be brushed under the nose.
– See, – says – how much work I have? Where is it here to go back and forth, relax? – He praises his eyes prayer. – And you, I will say, lucky. Went to the beach – and so the ocean. Not some kind of sea, but the most real ocean stretching already to America. Feel the difference? I have one friend who did not see the ocean in the eyes. – And Jose skeptically shook his head. Among all his numerous acquaintances, the latter clearly did not deserve approval.
