An obstacle overcome (La Corunha, Spain)

Spanish people don’t smile very much. I, with my indiscriminate and overly enthusiastic greeting habits, must look like a raving lunatic to them. They, in turn, seemed too intimidating to approach (for all my apparent eagerness to make contact, I can be embarrassingly shy). But no! Every single Spanish person I have spoken with has been incredibly friendly – some have even smiled at me. And today I spoke with so many Spanish people! Let me tell you:

My original plan was to wake up at six in the morning to be at the docks when the fishermen arrived with their fresh catches. Two glitches: As I was still awake at one in the morning, I decided instead to wake up at 8:30, and the docks that I saw yesterday were not, in fact, the main docks for fishing boats, but instead the docks for recreational craft, which happened to house a few oddball fishing boats. It took me half an hour to walk to the main fishing docks, which are huge and full of trucks and storage garages and fenced off from the street. It took me another ten minutes to work up the courage to enter through the revolving metal gateway that said “ONLY AUTHORIZED ENTRY FOR PORT BUSINESS.” (My business is port-related. Right?) I saw no boats, because the entire waterfront was blocked by the trucks and storage garages, but I did see a cafeteria. I went into the cafeteria. There were about six other people in it – some of them looked like fishermen (rubber boots, yellow suits – I was the funny-looking one)! After one and half cups of coffee I felt bold enough to talk to the guy sitting next to me, and a one-hour conversation ensued. His name is Fran, and he told me everything he could about fishing. Types of fish (the ones that weren’t already on my list from yesterday), seasons to fish them (the bonitos are passing through now), ways to fish them, places to fish them, his family history (father and grandfather both fishermen), where to find more information. He, too, was a stranger to A Corunha; he is usually on his boat for a week at a time and only gets off to unload and take the occasional weekend break. I asked him if he could show me his ship – he said yes!!! So we went to the docks and he gave me the grand tour of the Ria de Muros Marin. He showed me the navigational systems (very high-tech), the quarters for the crew of eight, the big room where the fish are cleaned, the storage bay, the nets and the cranks to operate them. I met the cook and the mechanic. Very friendly, all of them. They smiled at me.

After thanking him profusely, I went to the Lonja, another dock where the fresh fish are brought by smaller boats at around 11:00 each day (not 6:00! Thank God I decided to sleep in). There were about thirty people crowding around a few crates of fresh fish, and every single one of them wanted to tell me about them. There were chincho and chicharro and jurela (all the same fish, but of different sizes), abadejo (the same as zarreta), bicuda (the same as maragota and merlon), pinto, chaparella, rayas, peces aguja, pezcadillo (same as merluza), faneca, escacho . . . I’ll fail the quiz tomorrow. But there is for sure a tomorrow, because Guillermo, one of the fishermen, offered (of his own volition!) (I didn’t even suggest this to him!) to introduce me to more people and talk to me more about what he does! AND I will have official permission to enter the docks area, because I went to the port authority offices and spoke with a man who should by now have sent me an e-mail (no internet as I write this) that I can print out and wave in the police officers’ faces when they try to kick me out. What a law-abider I am. And how lucky!

In the afternoon I went to the Casa de las Ciencias, a small but very hands-on science museum, where I learned about waves and magnetism and poison dart frogs, and I spent the evening with a man named Simon, whom I contacted through CouchSurfing and who is (also!) extremely friendly. (Everyone here is extremely friendly!) We went to the Monte de San Pedro, which is on top of a big hill overlooking the city on one side and the ocean on the other, and then to Santa Cruz, a distant part of A Corunha with another castle. He tolerated my interrogation about Galician culture and history and his life, and on Saturday I might go to an old village with him and a few friends. He also told me about places where fishermen use traditional methods – I have villages to add to the list! I’d better start crossing other ones out.

I’m no longer feeling lost and insecure – all I have to do is learn everything there is to know about fishing. And a lot of people seem eager to help me do so.