far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, October 13, 2005

[continued from entry of 9/30]

During one of those strange, fumbling phone calls -- me gripping the receiver tightly, pressing it against my ear as I concentrated in a way I rarely have in this lifetime, straining to understand everything I could of the stream of Spanish coming at me from this intriguing woman -- we decided to get together in 3-D, supposedly to talk about her continuing offer re: assisting me in applying for the teaching-English thing. Supposedly. Other vibes were percolating underneath all the job-related blabber, but we didn't poke at that. Something seemed to be happening -- something improbable (given how little language we had in common), arising out of nowhere -- and I don't think either of us wanted to risk breaking the strange kind of spell that seemed to be gathering steam. So we let it be, and arranged a rendezvous, and continued talking by phone, working to get a sense of who the other person was as best we could.

My host -- married to a Spaniard, living in Madrid for many years -- seem astonished when I filled her in on developments. Spanish women, she told me, simply didn't do things this forward, this out there. Apparently, said I, at least one of them did. She stared at me in reply, smirking a little, as if she thought I was either (a) a far more interesting male than she'd realized or (b) a classic example of dumb, undeserved luck. Or (c) a blend of the two, worth keeping an eye on if only for the potential entertainment value of the situation I was getting myself into.

And then I found myself walking through Madrid's west side on a Sunday afternoon, early-September heat thick and deceptively intense beneath the weight of the sun's direct light (the reason, I realized, many natives slink along the shady side of the street during the city's hot season). We met up at the arranged spot, strolled together toward a restaurant she suggested, checking each other out as we went, the first time we could actually study the other person, watch the mouth speaking all those incomprehensible words, look into the other's eyes, watch their body language. A whole lot more communication happening with all the visuals added into the mix. Much more intriguing. And much more promising, at least going by her clear interest in me. So much more promising that at certain moments I simply watched this attractive individual and wondered how the hell I'd managed to shoehorn myself into this situation, managed to wangle a seat across the table from what seemed to be a desirable, intelligent, high-quality Spanish woman.

She brought me to a restaurant that dealt in Argentinian beef -- meat, she assured me, of the highest quality. Big, thick slabs of it, turned out, served to us at outside tables, along a wide sidewalk outside the restaurant proper, a canopy above us providing some shade, billowing and rustling in a warm breeze. Me sitting across from this dark-eyed woman, both of us armed with dictionaries, repeatedly digging into them in an ongoing effort to piece together full-blown conversation. (Mine: your standard paperback Spanish-English deal. Hers: a nearly microscopic, severely abridged volume of extremely limited effectiveness. Got me laughing every time she tried thumbing through it, mostly not finding anything helpful, provoking laughter, both of staring each other with wide-eyed smiles of pleased disbelief at us, the situation, everything. We switched dictionaries, me then mostly not finding anything helpful, provoking louder laughter.)

[to be continued]

***********

Color uncoordinated -- from one room into another at the language school that's currently putting up with me:




Madrid, te quiero.

rws 5:28 AM [+]

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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
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


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

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

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

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
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:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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