A Day in the Life

My host family lived in the heart of Salamanca, right near the mouth of the Calle Zamora, one of the two busiest streets in the city. They lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building, and the mother’s parents lived on the floor right above us. All of my belongings had their place in my new room, and my host family was incredibly hospitable. The evening I arrived, they brought me to their summer home where I met some more of their family: the grandparents, the aunt, and a cousin. They seemed excited to meet an American, and I was just as excited to meet them.

Because my mom is from Spain, she had me arrive in Salamanca right on time for the biggest festival of the year: the festival of Santa Maria de la Vega, patron saint of Salamanca. For an entire week, there were concerts, big sales in all the stores, and food stands serving people all day and night. In the evenings, after taking a siesta, the family would go out and walk around the city. That in itself was amazing.

Salamanca had a certain vibe to it. There were people from all over the globe here going to the University, taking gap years, going on vacations. The air was calm, but constantly energized. There was so much history in every cobblestone street. Even the McDonald’s downtown made its home inside of a building that was easily 200 years old or more. That was one high class Mickey D’s.

Charro clothing

The Saturday evening before the day of Santa Maria de la Vega was a culmination of the week’s events. Again, the family and I left in the evening, this time to the Cathedral where a procession would be taking place. There were people dressed in the traditional Charro clothing of Salamanca carrying flowers to a shrine. Music played, flute and drums making an earthy kind of tune.

As the procession came to an end, we moved with the crowds out to the river, where I saw one of the most incredible firework shows in a while. The fourth of July would’ve been insanely jealous. Bursts of colors lit up the night sky and the water below.

As the show came to an end, the night really began. The clock struck ten. My host sisters, a friend, and I walked to the Plaza to join the hundreds waiting for the concert to begin. Carlos Jean was playing, a DJ that knew how to get the crowd moving. Nearly three hours later, we were walking home. We were tired, but something in the air made us not want the night to end just yet.