For an Enthusiast such as myself, obsession with an alcoholic beverage that my mother, who thinks a white wine spritzer is a “cocktail,” keeps stocked in her fridge, might seem strange. I’m not sure how or why my insatiable thirst for cider started, but I do know it has not been quenched.
Despite struggling through Spanish classes from “me llamo Josey” through Latin American Literature 310, I managed to retain so little language that a trip to Spain in March required the purchase of a travelers’ phrase book. Upon leaving Barnes and Noble I enthusiastically flipped to the “Comiendo y Bebiendo” section, searching for the way to my latest love.
“Tienes sidra?” I shouted in a harshly American accent, bass bumping and Enthusiasts laughing and shouting in the background of bars, both dim and bright, throughout Barcelona and Cadiz, as older mustachioed men to 22-year-old ladies in short skirts and ponytails cupped palm behind ear and leaned over bars struggling to understand me.
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