Under Aware BBQ

The sandstone entrance of the bar welcomed me for a glass of a clear, ever so slightly sparkling liquid called Txakoli—the local white grape variety unique from lapping up sea air and rooted in soil splashed by the Bay of Biscay.

My bar stool companion immediately identified me as the lone Australian of the town and equally rapidly began to educate me about the in’s and mostly out’s of my, just-yesterday, just-the-family BBQ. I realized that unseen eyes had seen me slightly overcook the anchovies, wondered how word could travel across town so smoothly. I turned to a friend who just appeared, hoping to change the flow of conversation, yet from another corner a voice called to him: “Wasn’t that you wearing underwear at the beach yesterday?” We both smiled and strained to change the small town conversation from dry anchovies and Calvin Klein to weather and wine.

 

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