When Maureen, Michael, and I booked our trip to Portugal, it never occurred to us that Spain would be a mere 90 minute bus ride north. But it was, and we went. Vigo is the nearest sizable city north of the Spanish-Portuguese border, but it’s very residential. Just an hour and a half south of Santiago de Compostela–the real jewel of a city–it’s really just more of a gateway city from Portugal. Nevertheless, we had great fun being wanderers.
At around lunchtime, we straggled into a small eatery off of a side street and were delighted to meet Maria Amalia Miguélez Miguélez, a peppy Spanish abuelita who prattled off the menu so quickly, that I could barely understand anything. In the end, Amalia just served us whatever she wanted to and it was all heavenly mystery food.
Well, this picture more or less sums up our day in Spain: spontaneous, and maybe a little bit silly. In a good way. Would I go to Vigo again? Only to see Amalia. Would I relive this day? In a heartbeat.