far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Friday, November 04, 2005

[continued from previous entry]

Something that nearly always seems to be the case here in Madrid: whatever group of people I'm hanging with, no matter how big or small, I'm generally the oldest. And often the only one with gray hair. Kind of strange, now that I think about it. There's something cultural at work there, meaning that many folks my age back in the States have a younger feel to them, seem to slip into the mindset of being old -- of experiencing physical decline, no longer feeling youthful -- later than most folks I see of that age here. There seem to be clearer divisions drawn here when it comes to the image of what it means to be a given age, the roles and self-images an individual adopts and identifies with as that number increases. People do that stateside as well, but the image of actually getting or being old has evolved, youthfulness now being a perceived quality that endures far longer than it used to. I suspect that's beginning to happen here, but it's a change only getting underway.

All of which is to say that this weekend, once again, I was the oldest. And that seemed to play a role at times in how the others interacted with me. That and the fact that they all knew each other better than they knew me, that my Spanish had limitations theirs didn't. There were times conversation went on all around me, 'around' being the operative word, dialogue curving in space around my contours of my body as it passed back and forth between speakers, leaving me in a pocket of quiet amid all the noise. Watching, listening. Happened out on the street, walking around the pueblo, happened in the bar of the pijo joint. Giving me time to absorb all the rest of the input. In the bar, a fútbol match played on the TV, a few locals hung about watching, talking, eating, drinking. Conversation flowed around our table, food appeared, got hoovered rapidly down.

And then we were outside in the brisk air, heading toward the cars. Somewhere during the evening, Juan Carlos had taken us to check out the village's castle -- the genuine article, old, impressive, shining in the darkness courtesy of discretely-placed floodlights. It loomed in the background as we mounted up, got underway, the wind giving the night a strange, wild feel.

I found myself riding with Tony, the member of the group I knew the least. 30-something, slender, close-cropped black hair, longish, pencil-thin sideburns, ears that bent outward at the top (suggesting wings), a small gold hoop hanging from one earlobe. A person whose vibe seemed to shift quite a bit, sometimes coming across as an alpha male, a bit distant, opaque, other times more open, more sympathetic, with a nice smile. I suspect he didn't know exactly what to make of me, took advantage of us sitting next to each other to ask me -- approaching it carefully, prefacing it by saying he was going to take advantage of the opportunity to lay a question on me -- how I'd come to be here. A reasonable question for which I don't have a tidy answer, so my response wandered on a while, as it tends to do when I answer that question. He listened, speaking infrequently, nighttime countryside passing outside the windows.

My response finally petered out, we pulled into a small road, parked, fell out into the brisk night air. Right outside a small compound, the house belonging to Juan Carlos' family. A large metal combo door/gate gave onto a small courtyard and the door to the house. Inside: hallway, stairs, small kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, living room (with fireplace, which Jorge immediately got to work on). More bedrooms upstairs, for whenever the hell people might want to get some sleep.

[continued in entry of November 6]

***********

Color amid the concrete and brick: a closet-sized corner flower shop on a busy, beautiful autumn afternoon -- the barrio of Chueca, Madrid




Madrid, te quiero.

rws 5:14 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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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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