Location: Segovia, Spain
She peered over the edge of the concierge's desk like a ninja. “Baha!” she squealed grabbing a fistful of lollies stuffing them into her pockets. She snuck away as stealthily as she had came – nobody would ever know.
The blue sky contrasted against the yellow buildings. Red flowers lay wilted in earthen pots and deserted nests overflowed chimneys like the streets that surrounded us. Serenity flowed through the bending roads and past the chain of houses with turquoise colored doors, but it was rudely interrupted by the sounds of strained gasps. Sweat was developing on my brow and another grunt evaded my lips, while I navigated my rebellious suitcase up another flight of stairs. Gaining my composure on the flat ground ahead, I finally understood why the streets were vacant of noise. Everybody must have been gapping in awe at the towering aqueduct that slithered through the heart of the city. It did not demand attention, it boasted in its own magnificence.
After checking into our hotel we strolled into the plaza of Segovia sucking on the boiled sweets that I had craftily gathered. The town’s square was filled with sleepy activity. Children walked hand in hand with their elders and tourists carried around their cumbersome cameras and their large eyes. We found a cute restaurant with immaculate pink linen tablecloths bursting with patrons making the promise of a good meal. The smell of delicious cuisine wafted from their kitchens reminding my stomach I was famished. Sitting down under the protection of a white umbrella we ordered a seafood feast. I licked my lips in restless anticipation waiting for my lobster to arrive.
The waiter brought me my glass of wine distracting me from my surroundings, when I looked up my eyes were met by the patrons surrounding us. Abandoning their meals they began to gather around our table; I was confused until I turned around and saw a figure standing behind us. An old man wearing a purple sash stood patiently over a tanned roasted pig splayed upon an earthen dish. Silence swept over the restaurant as he spoke in rapid Spanish, followed by the crowds cheering applauds. Without warning the man picked up a ceramic white plate and violently struck it into the pig’s body repeatedly, spraying my arm with grease. Once content, the man held out his hand proudly and released the plate from his grasp. The plate shattered at my feet into a thousand tiny pieces causing me to jump in alarm. My surprise was replaced with nervous laughter and I brushed the porcelain shards off my sandals with good humor. Eventually the patrons returned to their seats to finish their meals and the buzz of conversation once more filled the air.
After checking into our hotel we strolled into the plaza of Segovia sucking on the boiled sweets that I had craftily gathered. The town’s square was filled with sleepy activity. Children walked hand in hand with their elders and tourists carried around their cumbersome cameras and their large eyes. We found a cute restaurant with immaculate pink linen tablecloths bursting with patrons making the promise of a good meal. The smell of delicious cuisine wafted from their kitchens reminding my stomach I was famished. Sitting down under the protection of a white umbrella we ordered a seafood feast. I licked my lips in restless anticipation waiting for my lobster to arrive.
The waiter brought me my glass of wine distracting me from my surroundings, when I looked up my eyes were met by the patrons surrounding us. Abandoning their meals they began to gather around our table; I was confused until I turned around and saw a figure standing behind us. An old man wearing a purple sash stood patiently over a tanned roasted pig splayed upon an earthen dish. Silence swept over the restaurant as he spoke in rapid Spanish, followed by the crowds cheering applauds. Without warning the man picked up a ceramic white plate and violently struck it into the pig’s body repeatedly, spraying my arm with grease. Once content, the man held out his hand proudly and released the plate from his grasp. The plate shattered at my feet into a thousand tiny pieces causing me to jump in alarm. My surprise was replaced with nervous laughter and I brushed the porcelain shards off my sandals with good humor. Eventually the patrons returned to their seats to finish their meals and the buzz of conversation once more filled the air.
The waiter presented our dishes and shuffled to clear an adjacent table. I didn’t receive a lobster like I expected, but rather a bowl overflowing with hundreds wearing their red armored shells. Superman began beheading and peeling his prawns perfectly with his cutlery, I watched marveled by his technique – was I meant to do the same? Clumsily I put one tiny lobster on my plate bracing myself. With my fork I constrained the lobster and stabbed it with my knife, the shell remained unharmed and the lobster jumped onto the tablecloth in an attempt to escape my butchery. Aspirated I exclaimed, “This is impossible!” Superman took the lobster and shelled it perfectly offering to do them all for me. “No” I responded stubbornly, a baby lobster would not defeat me!
After 20 minutes of stabbing the hard lobster shells in vain and cursing under my breath, I discarded my manners along with my cutlery. With my two fingers I cracked open the lobster, its innards splattered onto my dress; this would not work. I picked up my cutlery to try again. Superman had finished his prawns, the shells sat neatly in a pile on the corner of his plate and he watched me humorously. After continued failed attempts of using my fork and knife I proclaimed in frustration “What are you meant to do!? Just sit here for 5 hours eating lobster?” Superman laughed and responded that it was quite common in France. I looked at him in disbelief “I have better things to do with my time.” He smiled patiently. Superman swirled the wine in its glass, smelt the aroma and took a sip. Returning the wine tenderly onto the table he lifted his chin and announced proudly “You will never be French.” I could not contain my laughter. Indeed, I will never be French. I will never master the art of removing the shell off a crustacean in record speed, perfectly with a knife and fork.
Although I found out later that the pig and plate ritual was to signify good luck, I suspect a chef with anger management issues initiated this custom. When I grew weary of stabbing my lobster precariously, in frustration, I too was ready to walk into the kitchen and find my own porcelain plate and roasted pig.
Upon leaving covered in lobster entrails we explored the aqueduct, the castle and the surrounding area. Despite the interesting start to the day, my time in Segovia was one of the most memorable!
After 20 minutes of stabbing the hard lobster shells in vain and cursing under my breath, I discarded my manners along with my cutlery. With my two fingers I cracked open the lobster, its innards splattered onto my dress; this would not work. I picked up my cutlery to try again. Superman had finished his prawns, the shells sat neatly in a pile on the corner of his plate and he watched me humorously. After continued failed attempts of using my fork and knife I proclaimed in frustration “What are you meant to do!? Just sit here for 5 hours eating lobster?” Superman laughed and responded that it was quite common in France. I looked at him in disbelief “I have better things to do with my time.” He smiled patiently. Superman swirled the wine in its glass, smelt the aroma and took a sip. Returning the wine tenderly onto the table he lifted his chin and announced proudly “You will never be French.” I could not contain my laughter. Indeed, I will never be French. I will never master the art of removing the shell off a crustacean in record speed, perfectly with a knife and fork.
Although I found out later that the pig and plate ritual was to signify good luck, I suspect a chef with anger management issues initiated this custom. When I grew weary of stabbing my lobster precariously, in frustration, I too was ready to walk into the kitchen and find my own porcelain plate and roasted pig.
Upon leaving covered in lobster entrails we explored the aqueduct, the castle and the surrounding area. Despite the interesting start to the day, my time in Segovia was one of the most memorable!