In July last year I came to A Lanzada’s beach with my friend Carlos. Whole first week it was raining. Carlos asked me if it wasn’t going to stop raining. I told him it was quite usual here, that I didn’t know if he preferred Madrid’s torrid and dry climate in summer, and as we had both suffered Madrid’s high temperatures in summer year after year, and before coming to the beach for so many days, he admitted he preferred a fresher climate than unbearable intense hot weather. When the eighth day after our arrival I woke up and leaned on the window-sill I saw the sky had cleared and sun had taken everything in. I felt Carlos moving in his bed, looked at him and he opened half an eye. He realised weather had at last changed and asked: Is it good? I told him to have a look through the window. I don’t need to, I see, he said. Today is full light. Our days there so far had been conditioned by steady and unpredictable Galicia’s weather and rain had limited our movements. Only a couple of times had we gone to O Grove by bus and there we had scarcely walked but gone to cover ourselves under some roofed terrace or undercover somewhere else. Anyhow, Carlos had had time to make some praise comments about quality and good price of some items and products he had seen in O Grove shops’ window screens in the couple of times we went there. He had even stated he wouldn’t go away from there not taking with him some of these things he had liked so much. We had been usually breakfasting at Con d’Arbón Hotel, which is just beside our little hostel; especially busy had been Carlos waking up always earlier than me and going there right away to breakfast everyday. There, of course, since the very first day he had been for breakfast he’d fallen in love with the cafeteria’s waitress and with all other employees, especially the cafeteria’s, only one who was married and had children by herself, at least only one cafeteria’s waitress married and with children wanting not to flirt with nobody herself. So much he insisted I had finally had to take advantage during breakfast to ask her about her husband and her children in Carlos’ face. If her husband would wait for her outside times like every day. Carlos kept on looking so intensely to the waitress I told him to get going and he said to linger a while yet, that it was good staying. When we were coming out he said loud enough to be heard by the waitress that she was really gorgeous. Then he went on doing the same, going to the hotel for breakfast and coming back after saying to me all the employees were really gorgeous, and such and such anyway. That I should hurry up, and if not hurrying up, instead being quick, that he was inviting. In fact I did like to breakfast in the hotel too, besides it had been a daily habit for many years: first in the morning after washing, putting on a bathing-suit or pants and any kind of shoes-wearing. The hotel’s employees had been beautiful always. I had also had breakfast because of the employees and paid special attention, feignedly or not, according to the convenience of letting they know I was doing it or I was not. But Carlos was surpassing the hallucinating, for he was not only harping on looking fixedly at the waitress body and at any of her movements, but he focused himself too on all others unmeasuredly, sometimes not realising it, sometimes after dedicating a compliment to another, I did see and hear how he turned his body about completely to praise a third one tits or bottom. First days I felt a little uneasy before such an exhibition but I got used to it and I always finally laughed at it. Carlos used to say I would never flirt with no hotel’s cafeteria's employees or clients if I didn’t stop laughing. The obsession reached such an extent he was looking for me many times to describe the bodies of some hotel’s employees and how well their street clothes fitted them. One day he came excitedly from the beach to tell me I couldn’t lose Lucía’s magnificent body landscape. She was one of the hotel’s employees and was sunbathing near the place where we used to and I should feel obliged to check out how well she was wearing a bikini and how well she had chosen it, I was on the point to tell him I was fed up, although at last I went instead anyway to see what impression the landscape made on me. We walked up to the beach and I took for granted he was right in so describing Lucía at all her details. I was sure our intention was worthy. When we were walking down into the beach we realised we had not brought a camera. We greeted Lucía and stood up in front of her awkwardly, for we took no heed we were on the way the sun bathed her body. She smiled at us with sympathy as if we were clumsy. Clumsier was Carlos commenting the element’s virtues as if I could not appreciate in its true dimension what was more than evident. I told Carlos we were letting her have no sun, that Lucía had the delicacy not to warn us. I told Lucía Carlos had said to me I should feel obliged to check out how well she was wearing a bikini and how well she had chosen it. She laughed. Carlos said I had no reasons to repeat word by word what he had said to me. I asked him why not and told him it was tiresome making not necessary profuse detailed comments. Carlos looked at her what-I-have-to-stand face and she looked at me at once smiling, so I took advantage of this and asked her if she had winked her eye to me. What? she asked. Carlos looked at me indignant, suspicious and alert so much he seemed witness, judge and the one to decide. With your left eye, I said. When? she asked. It's been just a few seconds ago. She burst out laughing and said: This boy is tremendous. It doesn’t matter, I said. You need not to sham. Carlos and I are close friends and he would understand. How tremendous you are, she said laughing again. Carlos suspected I was putting in the leg. Well, he said, I bring him here to have a walk and greet you and like always he’s sympathetic or so he thinks, because he says a lot of silly things really. Lucía and me looked at each other and let some sighs escape. Then Carlos said: Well, we can be going back already if you want to, for there is no place someone can take you to. You go, I said. I’ll stay here a while more, that some reason she must have had winking at me her eye. He looked at me very serious. I said: Don’t take me wrong. We’ll see later. Lucía and I lingered some minutes and we talked about Santiago de Compostela, her job at Con d'Arbón Hotel and her aspirations, the job just to get some money to keep on studying. The fact was it extinguished Carlos eagerness of continuously trying to prove one must always do is chase all the girls by system. Even so, of course, he kept on looking at all the girls irresolutely, not feigning, so I had to recommend, to counsel him after a marathon throughout O Grove’s main street that if ever a girl winked her eye at him and insinuated a kiss, he shouldn’t make the statue and take advantage of the opportunity. I also said to him that if he ever turned his back to look at a passing-by girl’s bottom being alone or with me and the girl turned her back as well and winked her eye at him or threw to him an insinuating kiss or did both things, he should take advantage of the opportunity, although he’d have to leave me alone. He asked me if I was pulling his leg. I replied I was not, of course. I said to him that if it happened to me I’d leave him alone for sure.

With weather change we could move never too far but to the nearest villages always by public transport not having a car ourselves. We used to go to O Grove oftener and walk by the port and the old village's streets, some real labyrinths like many in old villages and cities in Galicia and Spain in general. As he had announced to me Carlos wouldn’t go away from there without buying the excellent items and products in O Grove. His preferences were, same as always, clothes especially T-shirts and polo-necked sweaters and wines and spirits too. Apart from entering his eyes wherever, our host at the beach reminded him every day of the possibility of paying whenever he wanted as many bottles as he had intended to bring with him back to Madrid, for he knew Carlos had asked him for wines and spirits his own harvest with the sane intention to take several with him for himself and for gifting some friends. He always said this very seriously and after he used to burst out laughing, for he repeated this same sermon many times during the three weeks we stayed there. So we took the bus some days to go to O Grove because he had the intention by the way we were strolling of buying a T-shirt or some polo-necked sweater. In the beginning he had the intention, for he only bought two T-shirts, one for his daughter and another for him. Instead what he did at every shop was suggesting or recommending to me T-shirts and polo-necked sweaters. When I convinced him I didn’t like polo-necked sweaters it became only T-shirts but it turned out nearly all them fitted me and I might even buy any. On Fair days they installed their stalls where they sold everything and we walked past by them all and more than once some times and we never bought anything. Apart from O Grove we went to Portonovo, Xanxenxo and Vilalonga. Of course, we went to A Toxa’s Island too, which is opposite to an O Grove’s Bridge and to Ons Island as well, to this one from Portonovo in a light ship. Some time after María and Dina, two our hostel’s employees took us on an excursion to the province’s south: Pontevedra, Bayona and Vigo. But we never went any farther, only a few excursions to San Vicente do Mar and to two high balconies in Arousa’s estuaries: A Lobeira (The Wolves Place) and Das Lúas (The Moons). In fact these last details seem a geographic and touristic digression but it was an important deed I feel obliged to mention. During the three weeks in the beach, some days by bus to O Grove, to O Grove usually, and here to walk throughout the streets, sometimes to lunch or to dine, and always to look over window screens, though we didn’t buy anything the first days, in spite of invading almost all the shops smuggling and putting in questions tirelessly, that seemed we did it only to bother and we always got fastidiousness’s gestures and grins, deservedly most times, I’d say too not my fault, though I cannot deny I was accomplice. But one day things changed. We went to lunch at one of O Grove’s restaurants, all Galician’s food, which has got a fabulous prestige in Spain and is reasonable price, more yet than in other regions of the country, even taking into account that in practically all the territory they have their special dishes and praiseworthy plates. After lunch Carlos went away a few paces to nose around and came back at once to tell me down there, twenty meters from where we were, there was a gallery in liquidation. That they had paintings, drawings, water coloured sheets and some pieces of art. The prices of pieces in liquidation were quite affordable. I went with him to have a look. It caught our attention everything we could see, since in our opinion the value of paintings and pieces of art were much higher to sale prices. We took advantage of first opportunity we saw the gallery opened to bargain away for things we liked and I bought two water coloured sheets and Carlos a three paintings set not to lose time. We also found out a charitable rake where they sold many things. In entering this I went directly to piled books and boxes full of them. Carlos announced faithful to his style I had found a mine; that I was for sure to buy a good big lot. When the beautiful and kind unselfish and volunteer saleswomen saw me looking through among the books, they realised Carlos wasn’t going to be wrong, more yet taking into account the voracious way I was separating interesting ones and the appetizing price they knew too well they had. In two or three times I bought eighty more or less. Definite, the one who had the intention of buying almost everything they had in the shops in O Grove was Carlos, even whatever it was, and he had only bought so far two T-shirts and three tiny landscapes set from the same author for a derisory price, which is the most important, of course, although there are people, museums and governments, who believe and assure to us it is not so and waste as if it was not. Carlos and I see things the other way round, they must have appropriate and reasonable price and if derisory always better and more sensible to buy them than if they have not.

Well, after so many strolls in O Grove, I confess I have to add we did a lot of shopping although one guesses to do this is of superficial people, vulgar, always a mess and sometimes so endless it seems it lasts for all the eternity and in which always spring out arguments inevitably, misunderstandings, false accusations and others which are not, sallies out of tone and other not at all, and yes, quarrels. I’ve seen quarrels of women going alone shopping and even of them alone against the rest of humanity. Well, and a lot of two women who neither choose with whom nor contend against whoever, even frequently between themselves, too much frequently. Perhaps it seems I have limited myself to speaking only about women going shopping and not with intention of pointing out to women the almost exclusive protagonists when someone speaks about the subject, leaving out they are not always who provoke fusses, but even some times, though they are too the origin of oral and physical quarrels and first guilty therefore most times, not always. Some times it is the accompanying guys or chicks, usually only one and only one too in the event of being two these. When this happens, if the acccompanying person is also a buyer, invariably he or she provokes a situation in which there are always more too much words, till someone finally at least asks for explanations before or after an interchange of shoves some times, hair pulling, blows, slaps and punches, kicks and other raging strikes. And always, always, this accompanying guy or chick also a buyer he or she, who went shopping with the intention of turning up rare an agreeable and usually and suffocating and laborious looking up for clothes or whatever it is, to provoke a compromising situation for chicks or guys accompanying or accompanying and buying as well, he shall always turn victorious all the times, even when jailed for the havoc they have caused, where nobody will forbid to him insulting in loudest tone to others accompanying or accompanying and buying people, and in the same extent to all them level whatever. I must recognize I had the proposal of being harder with Carlos because he always was the one who used to say he was going to buy some things he had already chosen and he wouldn’t come back to Madrid without not having bought them, being most times me the one who had found magnificent chances to acquire books, paintings, T-shirts and then turning an engineer looking for transport to take these back to Madrid not having to be charged of a load on my way back, for Carlos had asked me many times how I had thought of bringing it back to Madrid. I knew my brother Jesús was coming with his wife Amelia and Mónica, Carolina and Mario, their children. In fact Carlos was not guilty neither I shouldn’t have been so hard on Carlos because nobody is obliged to buy, nor to go shopping and haggle over, unless she or he is compelled to for some reason, openly delightful, to be confessed or not confessed. I’m sure of my digressing and coming harder with female buyers especially, and with some people in disposition of organizing critical or very critical alarms from which they usually come winners although all night in jail, of course, insulting without contention and sleepless, shouting loudest (how they are) to all male and female buyers who stir things up only to do so, mostly to finish by stopping somewhere after, usually sitting on a terrace with no good weather and if possible on some thronged and chaotic place to speak about clothes they were going to take away but finally hadn’t convinced them, I digressed and came harder enjoying it but compromising nobody. Anyhow, it can be well understood from all that’s been said, there were no quarrels because we had no intention either to provoke them, though somebody would have to pay if this had happened, buyers or sellers male or female, as always, for the item or product has been paid for by somebody before taking place the quarrels. The case is we didn’t kill anybody, not only because we had no intention to, but also it was not necessary.

Well, Carlos was nearly doing it, yes indeed, or at least he almost makes disappear several controls of the Guardia Civil situated at different posts along the beach, waiting no doubt some cocaine’s shipment between sellers and buyers. It was so. We took the bus in O Grove and this one was not a bus which leaves you at the beach. This has the stop at a small village, A Revolta, and there was no way of getting to our hostel but going from A Revolta on foot up to the beach, more than a kilometre away. Civil guards we knew were situated on a spot we had to go by on our way to the beach. On the bus I was thinking we shall see about them letting us cross the motorway at where they are waiting the shipment too or they will forbid us to follow beach’s path obliging us to go the motorway along a good bit up to another path which leads to our hostel from a farther spot. When we got off from the bus in A Revolta we had already seen several controls of the Guardia Civil and I had said to Carlos they wouldn’t surely let us cross by where they were. Of course, we at once saw they really were waiting where expected and Carlos began to insist on insulting and threatening them. I wasn’t really scared but counselled to him not to make them angry in order not to lose time. He replied to me airily if I wanted to see him beating and making them run away. I was on the point of telling him I wanted to, that I wanted to see it. But I told him I wanted not, we first had to know if we might cross by. Well, on reaching the spot the civil guards had already seen us, but we had to walk parallel to the motorway some meters before getting across. One of the civil guards shouted we could not get across and Carlos didn’t wait and jumped over the protections to get across and I followed him suit right away. The same civil guard shouted us again in a threatening tone but another told him it was no problem, he would stop the traffic on his side and us that we might get across. At the end we got across before being authorised by the civil guards and Carlos was repeating to me all the time if I had seen what he had done and how. I said to him he had been fast and I had done the same right away, but he almost made me believe he was alone by himself.

Well then, things aren’t to be left like this. There was a fenced field too with a wicket through which we could see a beautiful white horse and this horse used to come near to us on seeing us. I seldom touched him mane or nape of the neck. Carlos not only entertained himself on touching the horse but he also let himself be licked by the horse’s thick-lip. As he was grateful to the horse because the horse always came near to greet us, he felt obliged to buy something sweet, to let the horse get purple. Well, he nearly killed the horse, for he bought half a lemon’s pie, and obviously when he took it to the fenced field where the horse ran to and fro, the horse came near to see what we had and on seeing the half lemon’s pie the horse started to sneeze and kind of not wanting any. I laughed at it because I didn’t know what Carlos was carrying in a wrapped up packet which he assured me would leave me reckless with surprise. I told him the horse was not to have it, that it made the horse sneeze. He asked me in an airy tone if I thought the horse didn’t want it because it was only half a pie and not one entire. I wouldn’t have said anything which could annoy him and less treating it on half or entire pie, but I did, and I asked him because I knew it couldn’t upset him, Do you think the horse cares about why you haven’t brought the other half and how much did it cost this half? For sure if the horse could speak would tell you to put pie and money into your ass. He kept looking at me as if I was crazy. Do you see? I asked him. At least I must be true , I said, for the horse went away and when we come back for sure he won’t come near us again. Even it is possible the horse may take into account it didn’t stop sneezing. When once back in Madrid I told about these stories, he used to say it hadn’t been so much, not knowing I if he was referring to Civil Guards or horse, separated or at same time. Well, things went not so far, he said it himself. Jesús came with wife and children and stayed some days at a hired apartment. They brought a van with room for my books. How lucky you are! Carlos said to me. You would have to send them by transport, for you couldn’t count on me to help you to load, though I’m sure you never do clumsy things.

During the week, preferably on Sundays and Mondays, arrived some buses from Portugal with Portuguese people, mostly of advanced age invited by companies who offered them staying at Con d’Arbón Hotel and visits to nearest important places in exchange for their assistance to a Sales Show where they were offered all kind of items. We hardly had connections with these groups, except when we were focussing on some seller, who was tourist guide as well, or the other way round, or only guide or seller. Sometimes they let them have space especially for these Sales Show, though normally these took place in a room in the basement. Carlos had asked me some time where they went when he had seen them going downstairs to the basement’s room and I had told him about the shows. But one day they let them have the restaurant opposite the cafeteria and we finally went to see what one could buy. The room was plenty of Portuguese people and some female sellers, tourist guides too or not, and some male sellers, tourist guides or not, not mostly, only sellers. We sat very close to whom was speaking to them reciting a speech and we listened for some moments. Carlos asked me to translate to him and of course in spite of understanding almost everything I cheated him and told him the Portuguese guy was saying they had to buy on good terms, otherwise they had to on bad ones. Carlos didn’t get surprised at all, he rather thought they deserved it, for they were too noisy. Then the seller announced they were going to uncover one by one all the items behind him and said all them were very interesting. He started to uncover these and there came out mattresses, bicycles, cutleries, weighing machines, pot’s sets, frying pans, and a lot of things more, among which there was an intelligent robot. As he was showing the aspect and abilities of each, he was mentioning prices. When the show finished at last we were invited to go downstairs room to formalise our buying. I told Carlos we could linger at the cafeteria or go somewhere else to have something to eat, but before the whole group scattered he insisted in seeing a frying pan. He asked me to go with him to speak with a seller and I told him I would. The seller confirmed the frying pan’s price and he said he’d be waiting for us downstairs. I began to protest, to say to Carlos only thing I’d rather buy would be an intelligent robot. You don’t know what you are saying, he said. I told him I knew that robots do anything. I didn’t have time finally to explain to him in which consisted all the tasks a robot is capable of doing and we had to go downstairs and buy the frying pan which for him so much was worthy. It wasn’t till later when, with a big size box in our room, enormous to travel with, I told him a robot could work for him, bring him his salary, cook for him, go shopping, even wanking him... ¿How?, he asked. Yes, I said, wanking. Nobody knows when one feels like wanking, and you wouldn’t have to worry about if it comes to your mind the idea, you just comment it with it and it is enough. There was no way, he told me the frying pan could fry without oil. I had not other sally than lie to him and say it was good price at least. Then it sprang out, how it could be otherwise, the battle to find room somewhere to take it with us back to Madrid next day. There is only room, I said, in the trains spaces destined to luggage. He was not too sure, I either, it seemed too big for voids in luggage’s spaces. When we were doing up our luggage he said he wouldn’t leave anything, of course, that he might have bought the frying pan when Jesús was there yet, for he was gone already, and that it was too expensive to send it by transport, so he had no other than counting on me. What for? I asked. Well, you’ll know how we'll be capable to take it with us somehow. He was involving me in his business. I told him I had two travel bags which had had room in the train’s void for luggage, that I’d have no problem. We shall have to take it with us anyway, he said. Of course, I said, you can always load it on your lap. Next day we filled in our travel bags and Carlos’ enormous frying pan box was there. He hinted we both might take it and I said there was no need to bother. We went to say goodbye and well, two more our landlord own harvest wine’s and liqueurs’ boxes were waiting. Now we won’t be capable, unless... Yes? I asked. We use two hands. They must be six at least, I said. Pablo, one of our hostels' son helped us to carry out our travel bags and the two boxes up to the bus. I don't remember how we could possibly have done it from the bus atation up to the train station. In the train we put our travel bags in the void together with the wines and liqueurs’ boxes which also had room, but the frying pan didn’t have room despite Carlos trying not to suffer. I had already seated and was watching him handle the frying pan’s box, which had a very big picture on it to see how big it was and I really felt a little ashamed. Carlos was looking at me sideways and on seeing me smiling he came to me and left the frying pan’s box on my lap and seated opposite. I gave him back the box and he protested. I told him I was no fool, I had not come into a mess myself, that it was no use but take it with him by himself. He looked at me irritably but satisfied once relieved of more weight when he placed the frying pan on the empty seat beside me. In that moment the door in front of me and back of Carlos opened and two very pretty girls appeared and went by while looking and smiling on seeing the box with its picture and the frying pan in. It isn’t mine, I said at once. They said nothing and passed by. On seeing Carlos to whom I had told the frying pan wasn’t mine, he asked me why I had done it. Why not?, I said. Because they were very pretty, he said. I’ve done it for that very reason to be precise. He rested pensive and I took the advantage to tell him we were friends and that if the place beside mine was not to be taken and he didn’t want to take it beside him or on his lap, I’d put a very big poster where everybody could read the frying pan was not mine. I also told him that if someone asked me I’d say I’d never buy a frying pan but an intelligent robot.