Vigo

Vigo the city, not the actor.

The Eyewitness guide for Spain, of which I had the pages for Galicia, dismissed Vigo in a couple of paragraphs. Even the Lonely Planet guide started off with Santiago de Compostela. It's not hard to see why. Vigo is a working town, a port city, concerned with shipping and matters financial for Galicia. None of those architectural beauties that the Eyewitness guides love to provide perspective maps of. However I had decided to make Vigo my base for my 3 days in Galicia.

Crossing the Minho/Miño river across which the kingdoms of Portugal and Spain used to eye each other, I had to mentally swap language modules. No more obrigado, sim, não, and áte logo. It would be gracias, si, no and hasta luego. And that is just the beginning. However, Spanish is an old friend to me. Watching a panel discussion on TV tonight, I realised that I could mentally picture the Spanish words they were speaking, even if the rate was too fast for total comprehension. I cannot do the corresponding feat in Portuguese. Somehow the musical tones of spoken Portuguese still elude me. Anyway, in the EU of today, there is just a sign at each end of the railway bridge with the familiar 12 stars on a blue background and the name of the country you are entering.

Galicia was living up to its reputation for rain; it was somewhat drippy as the train pulled into the station. Fortunately the hotel was only around the corner from the station. Somehow planar maps never prepare you for the topography of the city. I should have expected it, that Vigo would slope downwards towards the harbour, given that Galicia is hilly. It was the hardscrabble of farming hilly country that made many Galicians escape by sea to other lands. In Argentina, Gallego is the generic term for a Spaniard.

I have a small room at the Ancla Dorada (Golden Anchor) Hotel. It's so small that a cat could not swing another cat, let alone a human. Joking aside, it is small, about two and a half single bed widths. There is a pull out lower bed so the room could accommodate 2. I paid 2 € extra for an ensuite bathroom, good decision. But it is spotless, the wooden parquet flooring makes it homely, and I dare say, cozy. What's more WiFi is included. Fantastic value/price ratio. But no breakfast. I've been spoiled by the breakfasts at the Yellow House. Well there's always the cafeteria around the corner.

After lunch I walked down to the harbour by the main street, the Rúa do Principe. Incidentally Galician, as you might expect, has some similarities to Portuguese, hence the Rúa. Also xunta and xogo instead of junta and juego. Many public signs are bilingual. Often though, the Galician is identical to the Spanish, offering the onlooker the puzzling spectacle of apparently duplicated sentences. Galicians are also descended from the Celts. You can hear their Celtic heritage in their bagpipe music. The public spaces were empty. Where was everybody? Maybe they were all in the suburbs and not coming into the city on a Saturday, I thought. That evening I realised that I forgot I was in Spain.

Everybody was having quiet siesta in the afternoon and coming out in the evening for the paseo, to see and to be seen, and to socialise over cerveza and tapas.