Our first Saturday night (Corey)

I have been trying for days to make my own post but a typographical error on my part has, until now, prevented me from logging onto the me and amanda's joint account. Finally I've figured it out.

So last night was our first Saturday night in Salamanca, so naturally anticipation was high to do it right while work is minimal and the novelty of our new homes has yet to wear off. Our first stop was at an Irish pub just north of the plaza mayor called O'Haras. Half of our group went there earlier in the week for tapas but, as I hadn't, I had been looking forward to a fun evening of watching some playoff football (American football.) A friend name Bruce assured me that he would be there promptly at ten pm to watch the Cardinals plays the Saints as the bar was known for playing American sports (a rarity here evidently.) When I arrived later, not only was Bruce not there, but the 70 inch TV was showing the Barcelona vs. Seville match: futbol, not football.

Within minutes though, I ran into Sydney a girl from our group, and then Brandon, and within 20 minutes there were 6 of us from Emory watching as Barcelona embarrassed Seville, going up 4-0 at half. With the game a blowout, the bar reluctantly changed the channel to some playoff football where another blowout was taking place, this time the Saints over the Cardinals. We met another group of 6 americans there as well as an Emory alum getting his MBA in international business. After many beers, and some rioja for the ladies, we decided to head to another bar before meeting up with the rest of our group at a yet unknown location.

ASIDE: I want to apologize to Sydney. I don't remember exactly what prompted it but I told her to, "shut up," very harshly while we were hanging out with the emory alum, named Connor. It was meant to be a joke but it came out very strongly and,, while I thought it was funny at the time, it was mean and I probably shouldnt have said it. So Sydney, lo siento.

Our next stop was Chupiteria, translated as "place for taking shots." Chupito is a shot in spanish. It was a crowded, small bar with minimal seating and filled with smoke. The only thing on the menu are shots, not drinks, so you're encouraged to take a shot and leave, not really stick around. Brandon and I stationed ourselves at the bar for 1 euro whiskey shots while Sydney, Jessica, and Kristen fought the crowds of people. Sydney was in full belligerent mode so, as friends do, we made sure she didn't drink much more before Kristen walked her home.

Another highlight was our (me and Brandon's) decision to take a "diablo verde" shot which was nothing more than a shot of Absinthe. Absinthe, if you've never had it, tastes like a mixture of death and black licorice and is usually very very strong. It has an iridescent green color to it, which makes it appealing, but honestly I can't think of many liquors I enjoy less besides sambuca. After the shot, Brandon had to walk around the plaza outside the bar for fear of throwing up. He soldiered through though.

Finally we got in contact with the rest of our friends and met them on the other side of the plaza mayor at a placed called Jack Daniels. With that kind of name, I was expecting the Spanish version of a dive bar with low lighting, wooden tables, and some rock music. A more fitting name might have been Red Bull and Vodka: People everywhere, full and crowded dance floor, trendy bartop, and lots of flashing lights. We danced there, by then our group had swelled to around 15, until I decided I wanted to go home. When I went outside though, I remembered hearing about a late night food place up the street and within a minute I was devouring a hot dog at a cafeteria alone.

As I passed the bar to actually go home, I ran into half of the group, getting ready to go back to our friend Christine's house. I didn't get home until 5:30.

ASIDE: On the way home from Christines, Michael was attacked by a spanish guy when he wouldn't give the man a cigarette and then 3 euros. Mark, who was standing ten feet away, scared off the man who had Michael on the ground by yelling, "NO ESTA BIEN!" It was the only thing he could think to say, but it worked and the men ran off. I guess being 6'6'' gives you an intimidating presence.

Hasta la proxima vez