Lugo come, e Pontevedra dorme (day 1)

Lugo eats, and Pontevedra sleeps

The early morning in Santiago smells of soup and fresh bread. Because all the cournes bars and cafes are prepareing for the new day. And the streets are empty. The sun comes out through my right window and paintes rough lines of light and shadow on the old stone walls and tiled roofs. And the morning also comes with the melody of a fluite played up the nearby street that leads

to the Praza Cervantes.

You get the chance to enjoy the ritual of the old city being reborn if you're part of the group of linguistics students that take a saturday bus trip. This time they headed Lugo.

As a lovely touch of spanish spontaniety, we started with a little detour to the house-museum of Victor Corral Castro, local sculptor working with stone and wood. In his workshop he has a telephone in the form of a pigeon. I asked him if there were any live ones, and he said, "Well. this one takes messages" and gave me a kiss on the forehead. The park with his sculptures was the best part of the day.

Then we saw some enormouse rocks natural fenomenon, a castle and a church, then the Castro de Viladonga, one of the famouse celtic settlements, in which Galicia is abundant.

And as usual Paqo and Malores through us a 3 hours long tipical spanish food-is'meal, after which i never can eat til the next day. Not far from the tavern we also saw the place where O pia Miño, the father Miño, the biggest river in Galicia, is born. There's a legend about devil throwing down here a pile of rocks and the water coming from under it.

Lugo is a nice town famouse for its roman city walls. It's the capital of the Terra Cha region, home to the Manu Chao's ancestors. Saturday is a traditional wedding day here, i saw about 5, with all the ladies in fancy dresses walking around the Ayuntamiento.

At the faculty we're taking an overview of the galician poetry, and Lugo is covered with encarved lines of tha fine troubadours of the 20th century:

(From the sea by the beach

I watched her walking,

Star on her forehead,

In her kiss a song.)

The russians had this a bit earlier:

За морем царевна есть,...
Месяц под косой блестит,
А во лбу звезда горит. ...
А как речь-то говорит,
Словно реченька журчит.

Молвить можно справедливо,

Это диво, так уж диво