We'll start a little earlier in the day.
Although jetlag was still running amok in my family, with only a week in town, there was no way I was letting a single minute go to waste. So after I got up at 7 AM and worked a full day, I roused the family at about 1 PM and forced them into tourist mode.
We spent the early parts running my normal "roadtrip" route from San Ambrosio, up the back roads to Vejer de la Frontera, down the valley side of Vejer and around the mountain to Barbate, and back up again. It's a gorgeous drive, and generally my first tour of duty upon arrival of visitors.
Along the way, we stopped at my favorite ham spot, Venta Pinto at the bottom of the mountain in Barca de Vejer, the old port servicing Vejer back when the ocean/river rose high enough to let boats travel inland a bit farther than now. The ham here is unrivaled and although expensive, it's totally worth it.
After a stroll in Barbate, we headed back to the house to get ready for a night out. I was on duty, having to take the guests up to Antonio's for a night of Flamenco as we do often for the guests. The special part of the agenda was that today was Rachel's birthday and obviously my parent's first time to see or hear flamenco.
The night could not have gone better. The paella was fantastic, Ramón was on point on the guitar, and the night lasted well past when it normally does. There were shots of honey rum passed, Rachel and I doing our infamous attempt at Sevillana and the next thing I know, dad is drunk.
I'm not sure how it happened. But it did. And it was amazing. We took the party back to Miguel's which was an amazing experience for me. Miguel busted out the scotch and dad busted out his Spanish. As I sat inside and dad stood outside smoking cigars with 3 Spanish guys who do not speak English, I wondered if I should go out and save him. They seemed to be getting by just find with hand gestures and slaps on the back but still, I felt bad.
Next thing I know, a friend Adrian brings dad back inside. Adrian (who you may remember as the stripper for my birthday party last year) does speak a little English, so I wasn't surprised that they bonded. But his English is limited to basic self serving sentences, colors, days of the week, etc. Very basic. I wasn't sure how they had conversed about anything meaningful.
At the exact same time, they both erupt into conversation with me, one in Spanish, one in English. I realize though, that they are both saying the same thing. Adrian has agreed to move to Malibu with my dad (who does not live there) to be his wingman, and my dad is going to pay him to basically be his best friend.
Well. At least I know he likes my people!