far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, March 30, 2006

[continued from previous entry]

I have never experienced the kind of friendliness toward strangers that's come my way during this swing across the Atlantic. It's been clear since my first time outside London (whenever the hell that was -- three or so years ago now) that there's a real warmth to the English character, a kind of warmth that extends itself easily. But since my first afternoon in Newcastle-under-Lyme, a week ago, when folks passing on the High street dropped a hello or a wink, there's been a friendliness and curiosity that's prompted all sorts of people to strike up conversation, especially during this last couple of days. It's caught me by surprise (in the nicest possible way).

So. Yesterday morning, 8 a.m. sharp: hammering. Not at the door -- across the narrow street from the hotel, where a building has been gutted and is being restored as flats. Though it could just as easily come from down the block, or around the corner, because there's work going on everywhere. The plague of rehab., construction and public works that's made life in Madrid so messy and chaotic has hit Sevilla. (The simple mention of this to the cabbie who drove me out to the airport yesterday evening provoked a confirming monologue at once exasperated, dismayed and resigned.) A short-term solution: stuff earplugs into the appropriate apertures. I did so, dropping back off for a while, eventually pulling myself out from the, er, compact single bed that came with my one-person hotel cell, making myself vaguely presentable, stumbling out for caffeine.

When trying to decide on an establishment for food/drink in an area I'm unfamiliar with, I sometimes follow the crowds, working on the assumption that a place might be popular for good reasons. A joint down the block from the hotel seemed to be heaving with Spaniards, I followed a group of people in. Found a spot at the bar, ordered an espresso, asked for a croissant. No croissants, they told me, adding insult to injury by handing me a cup of offensively mediocre brew. Finished up quickly, paid up, went to another, quieter place further along the street. Better coffee. And croissants -- good ones. A leisurely while later, I headed off for the first of many long walks through the city center.

I'm not entirely sure why walking seems so therapeutic to me. Could be the people-watching, could be the ongoing process of trawling for things to aim a camera at, could be the losing myself in the simple activity of moving, covering ground, with senses on full input. Whatever it is, it works. Big-time, inexpensive therapy (though potentially hard on feet shod in pointy boots).


Sidestreet graffiti, Sevilla




At some point, I became aware that a song had lodged itself in my teeny brain and begun playing itself over and over -- a quirk that's been happening far too often this last week. A few days back, after a discussion about Queen, 'We Are The Champions' took up cerebral residence, hanging around for many hours. This morning, waking up in a hotel room in Liverpool, I realized that 'Ferry 'Cross The Mersey' had somehow taken root overnight and was running on an endless loop. (Someone please shoot me.) The song in Sevilla was a tune I'd heard from a nearby radio -- happily, I can't remember it, meaning it won't have the opportunity to lodge itself in my gray matter a second time -- providing a soundtrack as I walked, finally fading and giving way to the sounds of the city.

[continued in next entry]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The east end of la Plaza Nueva on a spring morning -- Sevilla




Espaņa, te quiero.

rws 9:54 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
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November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

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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

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ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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