When Ruben and Katia meet me beside the Plaza de Galicia, I’m more than a little relieved. With especially poor timing, my Spanish decides to escape me while making plans over the phone. We agree to meet at 9, though whether it’s for cañas that night or coffees in the morning I’m not entirely sure. I’m still struggling to decide when Ruben, grinning broadly, comes up to rest a warm hand on my shoulder. “Mucho gusto. Please to meet you,” he says, dealing out one of the few aces in his pack of English phrases. Ruben’s another CouchSurfing friend - one of a small family in Santiago that includes a flat-mate, Xoan, and a co-worker. He’s admitted from the start that his English is sub-par, and I’ve taken it upon myself - in a certain
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