After my adventures in Asturias, I came home without my house keys. Now before you all jump to conclusions about my general drunken irresponsibility, (and I’ll have it known that I’m a very responsible drunk), it wasn’t my fault. No seriously. I loaned the keys to my lovely Catalunya-dwelling friend Ariela for the weekend. The keys were apparently miffed at their abandonment, and jumped out of her purse somewhere in Ourense (possibly into the river, to their death. We are unsure at this time).
Not a problem, so I thought. I came home on Monday night, with the plan of pilfering my roommate’s keys and getting copies made the next day. Problem: that was Carnival Tuesday, also known as Fat Tuesday. And this is Spain.
I left my house a little after 4 pm, assuming that some businesses would be open after the mid-day break. I specifically looked for locksmiths/shoe repair. (For some reason they go together in Spain). Was anything open? Nope. Not one. Nowhere. I walked past at least 10 locksmiths who’d locked up for the day.
See, the entire town had decided to celebrate Carnival, again. There was a giant parade, a ton of costumed children, and one very grumpy Jeannette, running around the entire town looking for somewhere to make copies of her keys. And, I had absolutely no luck whatsoever. The cafes and bars were open, of course. As well as the clothes stores and grocery stores. In fact, pretty much every imaginable place besides the stores I needed.
I went home eventually, cursing Spanish hours and wishing for an American style store that would cater to my convenience. Instead, I had to spend Tuesday and half of Wednesday without house keys, until I could “borrow” my roomie’s again and pay some amused guy 18€ to make copies. Weirdly, he thought I was French. Apparently French girls lose their keys on a regular basis.