If Europe were a castle stronghold Galicia would be more advanced. A tower surrounded by the Atlantic erected over ancient rocks and forsaken of God
As secret entrance to this tower serves Vigo, a city that for centuries has sought refuge to smugglers, pirates and treasure hunters
The first settlers chose the hill of Castro as a residence. Still remain the ruins of their homes austere round
Descending
this promontory we are on the lookout Rande, from which point nostalgic rusty guns to ria, whose background was recovered by divers professionals
little money, constitute the many expeditions of adventurers came from all over the world in search of more treasure history
From the viewpoint of low stone steps we left in the plaza of City Hall . This is housed in a monstrous building, topped by a square tower dominates maliciously city center. A magnificent architectural icon spawn the worst values \u200b\u200bof the city
Hall
Next survives another significant building: The Bakery ; its imposing concrete silos built without any pretesión bravely hornamental symbolize the arrival of progress and rationality in a country ruled by superstition
-The Bakery is the center of entrenched urban discussions between those who seek the demolition of property to build a casino or restoration as a museum, but this is another matter-
Surrounding the town hall on the right, we passed the remains of the castle of San Sebastian, and we see the entrance to an underground gallery in the past served as the privileged way of escape when the situation became
complicated
The situation was often complicated: for example in 1585, Drake , heading to loot Americas with a fleet of nineteen ships decided to make a stop in Vigo, loot and burn the city to the ground
input remains today remains roughly boarded up with bricks to prevent junkies, prostitutes and other outcasts from using less epic purposes
Junkies, whores and outcasts had their emporium in nearby Rua do Placer , a steep street that leads us into the old town. In the distant and 80 of the twentieth century, when the heroin was all the rage, would have been little aconsejeble go this route at certain times
Today, junkies and prostitutes have died not long overlook the street. If you're curious can sneak The Threshold for one of these Putiferio and spy in the dark decay plaguing the site and those who live
Viewing haggard appearance of the prostitutes one can get an idea of \u200b\u200bthe prodigious virility of customers that keep them in business. It takes a male and have spent many months at sea so as not to be discouraged by such a sad spectacle
Placer
Finally we arrive at Alfonso XII, only from the streets of Vigo from which you can see the bay. The fiercest incompetence coupled with speculators vilest interests can make a city on a hill terraced banks of this beautiful coastline is almost completely deprived of visual delight
Unfortunately this is the case of my city, whose only salvation would be the violent demolition of most buildings in order to change the layout of the streets. Made it could be structured so that the perpetrators of abuse and their immediate family architecture remain buried under rubble in the street
Alfonso XII is the centenary olive tree serves as a shield to the city. The exceptional climate of the Ria de Vigo, led by the warm Gulf Stream allows a tree native to southern latitudes flourish in Galicia
If your logo is the olive, the city's motto reads: "Faithful, Loyal and Courageous" . This honorable title was awarded by Courts of Cadiz in 1809, during the War of Independence
Of all the English strongholds Vigo was the last to undergo the Napoleonic troops, and the first to be released with the help primarily of people armed with improvised weapons, stolen guns the cartridges produced in France itself, women, children, clergy and anyone who could not wield a weapon
March 29, 1809, almost two hundred years ago, before the French refusal to disarm the crowd shook the siege on the city walls
Arenal An old sailor, fired by patriotic impulse was precipitated with an ax on the solid door Gamboa. Trying to be lowered dealt him many blows to be struck by the firing of a French marksman Cachamuiña
The brave captain of the English forces, rushed under enemy fire, he took the hatchet from the hands of the dying hero and hit his brutal determination door to knock it down, allowing the guerrillas to enter the city and surrender to the French
As secret entrance to this tower serves Vigo, a city that for centuries has sought refuge to smugglers, pirates and treasure hunters
The first settlers chose the hill of Castro as a residence. Still remain the ruins of their homes austere round
Descending
this promontory we are on the lookout Rande, from which point nostalgic rusty guns to ria, whose background was recovered by divers professionals
little money, constitute the many expeditions of adventurers came from all over the world in search of more treasure history
From the viewpoint of low stone steps we left in the plaza of City Hall . This is housed in a monstrous building, topped by a square tower dominates maliciously city center. A magnificent architectural icon spawn the worst values \u200b\u200bof the city
Hall
Next survives another significant building: The Bakery ; its imposing concrete silos built without any pretesión bravely hornamental symbolize the arrival of progress and rationality in a country ruled by superstition
-The Bakery is the center of entrenched urban discussions between those who seek the demolition of property to build a casino or restoration as a museum, but this is another matter-
Surrounding the town hall on the right, we passed the remains of the castle of San Sebastian, and we see the entrance to an underground gallery in the past served as the privileged way of escape when the situation became
complicated
The situation was often complicated: for example in 1585, Drake , heading to loot Americas with a fleet of nineteen ships decided to make a stop in Vigo, loot and burn the city to the ground
input remains today remains roughly boarded up with bricks to prevent junkies, prostitutes and other outcasts from using less epic purposes
Junkies, whores and outcasts had their emporium in nearby Rua do Placer , a steep street that leads us into the old town. In the distant and 80 of the twentieth century, when the heroin was all the rage, would have been little aconsejeble go this route at certain times
Today, junkies and prostitutes have died not long overlook the street. If you're curious can sneak The Threshold for one of these Putiferio and spy in the dark decay plaguing the site and those who live
Viewing haggard appearance of the prostitutes one can get an idea of \u200b\u200bthe prodigious virility of customers that keep them in business. It takes a male and have spent many months at sea so as not to be discouraged by such a sad spectacle
Placer
Finally we arrive at Alfonso XII, only from the streets of Vigo from which you can see the bay. The fiercest incompetence coupled with speculators vilest interests can make a city on a hill terraced banks of this beautiful coastline is almost completely deprived of visual delight
Unfortunately this is the case of my city, whose only salvation would be the violent demolition of most buildings in order to change the layout of the streets. Made it could be structured so that the perpetrators of abuse and their immediate family architecture remain buried under rubble in the street
Alfonso XII is the centenary olive tree serves as a shield to the city. The exceptional climate of the Ria de Vigo, led by the warm Gulf Stream allows a tree native to southern latitudes flourish in Galicia
If your logo is the olive, the city's motto reads: "Faithful, Loyal and Courageous" . This honorable title was awarded by Courts of Cadiz in 1809, during the War of Independence
Of all the English strongholds Vigo was the last to undergo the Napoleonic troops, and the first to be released with the help primarily of people armed with improvised weapons, stolen guns the cartridges produced in France itself, women, children, clergy and anyone who could not wield a weapon
March 29, 1809, almost two hundred years ago, before the French refusal to disarm the crowd shook the siege on the city walls
Arenal An old sailor, fired by patriotic impulse was precipitated with an ax on the solid door Gamboa. Trying to be lowered dealt him many blows to be struck by the firing of a French marksman Cachamuiña
The brave captain of the English forces, rushed under enemy fire, he took the hatchet from the hands of the dying hero and hit his brutal determination door to knock it down, allowing the guerrillas to enter the city and surrender to the French
no longer exists Gamboa gate, the walls were sacrificed for the sake of progress- but retains the street's name epic stage. Ascendiedo through (more hills, San Francisco Vigo is Galicia, the weakness of body or mind is paid for life But thanks to the young Vigo challenging terrain can look her plump buttocks proud) we arrive at the Cathedral of Santa Maria
Vigo has the dubious honor of being the largest city in Spain that no cathedral is also the largest capital city that is not provincial
The Co-Cathedral houses the Cristo de la Victoria . The legend says that his intervention was decisive in defeating the French in 1809. The Christ, "also known as" Salt ", having been rescued from the sea by a boat carrying the product, after being thrown into the liquid element to avoid capture by pirates English, was donated to the city by Marco de Pont, based in Vigo Catalan industrialist in the eighteenth century
marked, among other companies, encouraged the chartering of numerous pirate vessels that plied the Atlantic waters preying on the British merchant whose path will inevitably approaching the Galician coast. The parade was a risky but highly lucrative activity, which had an important bearing on the progress of the city
From the Co-Cathedral Square Real street party, known as "Wine." It eventually I started as alcoholic at the tender age of fourteen
My buddies and I went up and walked down the street, shy at first, knowing that we did something inappropriate, while that fulfilled our duty to adolescents
was possible to be assaulted by drunk older than us, or robbed by many junkies who still roamed its hanches looking for easy prey to finance their lifestyles
Still we walked the streets and alleys adjacent to usher in dark bars and pubs where Nirvana sounded, Siniestro Total, The soft, Iron Maiden or depending on local , Mecano, Social Security, and even Dangerous Liaisons. Our small bodies and tiny pockets alcoholic limited our ability to multicolored world of the shots, mainly
We inflicted combinations of products that today would lead us to the morgue. Tequilas in "Johnny's" flaming Carajillo in the "20's" Tumbadiós in the "Montevideo" (better known as "The Tomb"). The Mistelas of "The Egg" were served accompanied by a poached egg that swallowed seasoned with salt and pepper. Egghead, Chupa-Chups, lollipop Smurfs , Gave way to B52's, Bombs, Rockets, Kamikazes and Hell
descended by mixing throats to go in our bellies pubescent, heater with a not unworthy of the ineffable Spark Flaming Moe
In the realm of the shots, the Kings were without doubt the legendary Triple Dry , Sambucca, and Absinthe . The capital of this kingdom was "El Garito, a 2x2 cubicle specializes in shots.
The space was occupied almost entirely the bar so that the drink called almost from the street and the walls were covered shelves full of multicolored bottles, hundreds of shot glasses, of course, and a large sign labeled without much effort where, almost despondent, it was offered product inventory
known names mixed with other original and profanity, the fate of Chochopelao, Orgazmo, Pezóndemonja, Curasalido and a long, ominous and so
parish
often charge shots monumental games simple, simple fruit liqueur that is made special price . Fifty assorted shots for 2500 pesetas. On one side of buying time and saving money and the other is shortening the life
For years go to "El Garito" meant a turning point in the night. Changed over time friends and musical tastes, but I kept true to the very small den
Over time, too, lost my fear of the jungle night, and I became someone to fear. I did not become junkies, assaulting or less beginning in alcoholism. My value was reduced to the destruction of property, public or private
Associated with a comrade Teis - fishing district reputedly the most fearsome of the city - tearing his mirrors, portals reventabamos, siliconizabamos locks Pipeabamos door openers, windows, and we collaborate apedreabamos sometime in the Municipal Hospital to empty extinguishers creating a smokescreen to cover the withdrawal of our expedition destructive
attacks took place between those nights laughing that we could not seduce some unsuspecting youth to free our manhood - What was the case most of the time - with crooked lines we wrote our modest page on the violent history of the city
One night my friend and I argued heatedly in "gambling den." Lograbanos not decide which among the entire repertoire shot was the most powerful, most deadly effects
Finally, a spontaneous conversation was introduced and solved our doubts by saying: "The harder the shot Shot Sin Nombre
Without
in another word we went to the bar (we had only to turn around) and two units in charge of the dreaded draft. The bartender looked at us cautious and prepared. To this hid crouched behind the bar, thus preventing discover the secret ingredients of the potion
Impatient that we look and devoured in one gulp
was hard
I still do not know what takes a shot with no name, but I thought I recognized among the components a generous dose of Tabasco. To relax our sore mouth duct immediately commissioned several cubalitros of vodka, we get as rain in May
Then fate brought us the "We", a bar with terrace in the courtyard of an old house stone. Animal force led us to jump a fence and perched on a staircase to the balcony of a private house, located just above the terrace of the "We"
From there we download our burning blisters on the back and head caught a poor guy who took a drink
Had he decided to kill us, any judge would have understood. Our families would have understood. Rather than kill the poor guy went to complain to the owner of the premises, and from above we saw frightening signal
The owner of the premises, logically we rebuked our ugly gesture, and we retired to the race, laughing and directing shouting the nickname "Old Bitter!"
not remember the details, but imagine the damage incurred on our way home that night were large
Today my friend is an officer of the Ministry of Education, and I am a tutor of a course on Prevention of Occupational Risks
While I'm not proud of my own past misdeeds remember them with a smile and even some laughter when I come back to my friend
Satan, Vishnu, Yin and Yang and the Principle of Universal Entropy are safe as long Vigo
0 comments:
Post a Comment