far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Tuesday, May 03, 2005

[continued from previous entry]

The positive, an example: Jorge and I connected doing an intercambio, something that has not gone unnoticed by his friends. Last weekend, E. -- one of the women in the group -- spoke to me about the possibility of trying out the intercambio thing, yesterday afternoon found us sitting at a table outside a café, making conversation. She's an attractive, intelligent person with a lovely deep voice, spending time with her was not a painful process. A couple of hours along, one of the other women from the group rings E.'s mobile phone, it develops that she's on her way to join us. Next thing I know, I'm in a car with them heading toward El Retiro, Madrid's Central Park.

Within a matter of minutes, we're in the park, greenery and flowers all around, a mild early summer breeze blowing. Trees in full foliage (leaves rustling), fountains (the sound of water falling), crowds of people (the murmur of many voices), me inhaling the rich odor of earth and vegetation for the first time since last autumn in northern Vermont, enjoying the sound of my companions talking. We eventually pull up a plot of lawn on an incline overlooking a wide pedestrian way, people streaming by. A third woman shows up, a friend of E. and A., conversation flows faster and faster, me content to listen as the velocity moved beyond the point where I could contribute to a three or four-way exchange in Castellano.

I found myself listening to an increasingly serious exchange about relationships, them talking as if they'd forgotten a male was hanging about, me feeling like the fly on the proverbial, er, lawn. Until a 30ish couple strolled by with a beautiful little girl, maybe three years old, decked out in a sundress. She veered off from the 'rents, wandered up onto the lawn just down the incline from us, intent on a spread of minuscule wildflowers that dotted the grass. I caught my companions' attention, we watched her as a couple of blossoms caught her eye. She reached out a tiny hand and slowly, carefully picked them, bringing one to her nose to sniff. She looked back toward her mother and father (them watching patiently), then headed carefully back in their direction, all three of them moved off. One of the women to my left said to me, "And what do you think of the mother?", I looked around, surprised at the question, having not even really noticed the mother. My head swiveled to glance at her as the sound of female laughter started up to my left. It felt like any comment I made would only provoke more laughter, I stayed quiet, enjoying the silly moment.

One of them asked me if I liked Spanish women, I could feel a snorting, semi-sarcastic DUH! trying to elbow its way out of my mouth, managed to come out with a simple affirmative instead.

Next thing I knew, we were on our feet and heading out of the park. Me with no idea where we were going, strangely content about being herded to points unknown by these women. Which turned out to be, after a brief stop to pick up two kids -- A.'s daughter and nephew, six or seven years old -- a bar/restaurant in a residential neighborhood some distance from the park. Not the place they'd been intending to drag me -- that place, a joint that apparently offers a kind of, er, meat product they wanted me to try, was closed -- but not bad, as it turned out. Jazz playing on the stereo, a handful of customers sitting about (eating, talking), bar help ready to get us whatever we wanted. The women began working on glasses of wine, a teeny glass of beer found its way into one of my hands. Food got ordered, several plates showed up shortly thereafter -- great chow, it turned out, making me happier and happier. The two kids ran in and out of the place, stopping by for a mouthful of food now and then, other customers began streaming in, the noise level and energy rising. And in the middle of it all, I found myself discussing what the three women called the cultural experiences we all shared courtesy of American television. Meaning Dallas, Falcon Crest, The A-Team. Yes, they spoke with smiling irony, but they also had a point, that they grew up with a vivid picture of the States and the people who lived there, courtesy of American television. Bizarrely inaccurate in some ways, extremely accurate in others. And there I stood in my black jeans and pointy boots, one more goofy image of things American, this one inhaling Spanish food and enjoying the company of Spanish women. Enjoying being in this part of the world, soaking up all the input.

Later, when we stepped back outside, darkness had fallen. No breeze blew, the nighttime air felt soft on my skin, its temperature just about perfect, neither cool nor warm. Good night for a walk. I got a ride partway home, did the remainder by foot.

It's a good way to live, this.

************

A strange image that's become ubiquitous here in recent days thanks to the tireless efforts of local poster pasters:




Madrid, te quiero.

rws 5:35 AM [+]
Comments: Post a Comment

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>
BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS

Personal History



Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

Excerpts from GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1 (complete)
Chapter 6 (complete)
Chapter 8 (excerpt)
Chapter 9 (excerpt)
Chapter 9 (excerpt)

Screenplay excerpt:
BURBANK SHRUGGED

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
Queja de Una Hermanastra
  Muy Conocida

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
digital camel
letting me be
kung fu grippe
franklin avenue
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
the happy booker
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
tomato can brushes
playing with my food
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
muxtape
soma fm
pandora
last fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





This page copyright © 2001-2008 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted.


runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



Syndicate This Site

Blogarama

BlogCatalog

Bloggapedia, Blog Directory - Find It!



technorati profile

Subscribe with Bloglines

www.flickr.com
runswithscissors' photos More of runswithscissors' photos