On Lisa’s last morning, we packed up her suitcase and then went to the central market to replenish my fruit and veggie supply and search for the elusive souvenir t-shirt for one of Lisa’s girls. Alicante is a tourist town. However, it is easier to find a 6000 E Rolex and 5000 E wedding gown than it is to find a souvenir t-shirt. It is: only bars and kebap restaurants out number the jewelry, dress, and shoes stores in Alicante. Lisa finally found one hanging high in a nic-nac booth at the market. Meanwhile, I was too distracted by the skinned bunny carcases (with eyes) stacked in the meat cases. It takes a strong stomach in the morning to walk past the meat cases on the way to the fruit and veggie booths.
Later we went in search of a rollo kebab for lunch around 1200. Opening and closing times for businesses in Alicante are more guidelines than rules. Our favorite (i.e., cheap and good) for a kebab sandwhich is Kebap El Barrio. Unforunately, the outdoor chairs were missing and the metal garage door was closed. No signage was posted with its hours. Hungry and not knowing when or if it would ever open again, we tried our second favorite spot: Kebap Turco. Based on the sign, it was supposed to be open but wasn’t. Back up the street to Kebap Sultan, an untried place. It was open, luckily for our hungry stomachs. The rollos we tried were some of the best so far. “Sultan” prepared each meticulously with fresh lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, onions, fallalfel, and salsa blanca or rojo. Then, each rollo was grilled in a “george-foreman” grill. Tasty.
A twenty-minute walk took us to the Alicante train station where Lisa would depart for Madrid and then on to Amsterdam and, finally, Merdian, Idaho. A double, nonfat milky way coffee, with just a little ice, would be waiting for her, as well as the much anticipated AIR CONDITIONING and a comfortable bed.
The train station was pretty straight forward. Each passenger had to have all bags scanned by a metal detector. Good in theory, but once the passengers pass through “security” just a thin rope separates them from the boyfriends, girlfriends, pickpockets, well-wishers, and parents seeing them off. If so inclined, such a person could easily just hand the passenger some banned item (say, a RPG launcher) before they made their way to the train. Obviously, I looked like a terrorist and was eyeing this rope too closely. While waiting for Lisa’s train to depart, two police officers came up and asked for my identification (a well-creased photocopy of my passport was produced) and then asked, I think, what I was doing in the train station. Me not speaking much espanol and them not speaking much English, I tried to explain I was just waiting around for my girlfriend’s train to depart. Isn’t that how it works in the old movies? The remaining person waves as the train slowly departs. They most likely heard, “blixta blumpasnort gootr Lisa blah blah zvega moo kuy.” Two more officers, for a total of four, were now interested in me. I don’t know what they said, but I figured they didn’t like me loitering in the train station.
Back at the apartment it was empty and quiet without Lisa around. I caught up on some email, did some cleaning, organized the five items of food in the cupboard, drank cola light, finished a book, surfed the Internet, and tried to determine the optimal placement and angle for the fan.
