Understanding Spain with a godfather!

SPAIN is a difficult place to live if you wish to get involved in what’s happening around you.
Most of it is incestuously complicated, if not impossible to believe and most assuredly Sur-real at the end of the day. That’s just the way it is. A constant head shake reality if your mind had been taught any analytical progression.
I was lucky. I had a Godfather who guided me through the perils of beginning to understand the cultural deportment and business process. I was fortunate in that my Godfather found me, struggling but willing to work all hours of the day to progress and that’s why (I presume) he adopted me.
We could end a night drinking in the Puntazo at midnight and he’d go back to Murcia yet return by 7am to meet me the next day. He was scared of our small toothless dog so would announce his arrival by blaring his horn from the beach road to my little house near Kimrick. Then we would drive off on adventures, places unknown to me but where he was asphalting roads.
Villages that weren’t on the map or restaurants in the most secluded and lost corners of Spain. There he would introduce me to the finer elements of Spain, eating and drinking just the right condiment for just such an hour of the day. While we drove about he played for me his most popular singer, Manolo Escobar so I learned to love that music too. I would ask him questions about life, business, love and living.
He didn’t know the answers to everything, but showed me in a lifestyle how to solve them. He emphasized how most good deals took a year or two to negotiate so it was imperative you had a game plan and started negotiating early. I got a photographic assignment once which took me to the beaches of Javea.
While unloading my car with all the camera gear…WHAM-0, my Godfather Segundo showed up. He immediately whisked me off to the first bar where we tried every type of tapa they had, and every drink and combination thereof. Laugh until the sun started to dim and I slid off the chair.
Somehow I drifted upstairs, but Segundo had business to do and drove off into the sunset. I slept long and dead drunk. When I woke up in a tiny darkened room I gazed about. All my camera equipment was gone. Eh, well, at least it wasn’t in the room. I tried to think, it was cloudy and the constant beating drum distracted me. Where could I have left it? I staggered about, downstairs at the bar? Then our table where we ate tapas? I stumbled from the hotel toward the parking. My heart leapt into my mouth.
There was my car in a lonely parking spot with the trunk (boot) still open. I rushed to it and was aghast. My cameras, lenses and tripods were still there. Franco be praised and of course a Godfather called Segundo.