A helpful troublemaker

Monesterio. We were so excited about our beautiful camping spot here in Monesterio yesterday – then at 11 PM, the joy was abruptly over. The worst kind of techno music blasted through our motorhome like a supersonic jet. It lifted us a good meter out of our beds, the dogs started barking, and the lights turned on in every vehicle next to us. What was that? We were parked on the edge of the parking lot, almost directly next to a small park. A quick glance out the side window made it clear: two or three dozen young people were drinking, dancing, and screaming as if the ground beneath them was covered in pincushions.

What to do? The party had just begun, so it would continue for at least two or three hours. That would have been unbearable for us and especially for the dogs. We had to drive away! Far away. Fortunately, this parking area stretches for half a kilometer. Hopefully, there was still a spot for us at the other end. We didn't search long in the pitch-dark night. Next to a large hall, the ground was somewhat level. That had to be enough for a few hours. We crawled into our beds and pulled the blanket over our heads.

What felt like half an hour later, there was a knock on our door. First quiet and then increasingly loud. Half climbing, half falling out of my fold-down bed, I found an old man standing at the door, and as I opened it, a torrent of words poured over me – in Spanish. While I gasped for air inside, I registered that it was already light outside. Suddenly, the man became silent. He gestured around us: Countless cars were parked nearby. Parents with their children, wearing football jerseys, were climbing out of some of them. And more and more cars were arriving. Slowly, it dawned on me… I had seen on the map that there was a football stadium nearby. There must be a game happening now. The old man had kept a path clear for us, otherwise, we would have been hopelessly blocked in. I quickly made a decision. We returned to our old spot. There was no music to be heard anymore.

Thanks to the shock in the early morning – it was only 8 o'clock, oh, 9 o'clock, we had forgotten about daylight saving time – sleep was no longer an option. So we decided to treat ourselves to a nice lunch today, on a Sunday. It should be a specialty of the region. Icke chose a whiting with Venus clams, while I opted for a