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runswithscissors


Friday, January 05, 2007

Tuesday -- found myself awake and up far too early, in keeping with the previous two weeks. Got packing done with plenty of time to spare, likewise with straightening out the house. Walked down the hill around noon to give some groceries that needed to be used to my 84-year-old downhill neighbor, Mo, and his live-in sweetie, Barb. He's been experiencing aches and pains of late, especially in a part of his body that a surgeon wants to have a go at (with no guarantee of any kind that it will help). Mo said he's been contemplating getting a second opinion, his expression slightly timorous as he talked about it, a strange look to see on the face of someone normally so sure of himself, so independent.

As I walked back up the snow-covered road a short time later, carrying a near-dead potted snapdragon plant Barb had been taking care of for me (did okay until the last few days, when it suddenly began to droop, looking like it might be ready to call it quits, make the trip to the great greenhouse in the sky), a car passed, slowed, stopped. The taxi-service driver, I saw, who'd be taking me to the airport later on -- stopping by to let me know she'd be there on time, and also, it turned out, needing to get out of her house, where she lived with her parents, both deeply into Alzheimers. We talked, her airedale wagged its whole body as it sniffed my hand, the driver took off to find some lunch.

Two hours later she was back, we began a long, leisurely ride to the airport, a drive that included a detour through dirt roads to the west of Montpelier (an Enrique Iglesias CD, of all things, playing, volume set high), where she showed me homes of people she knew, scenes of family history (her family having roots deep enough that a local road bears their name), and stopped to say hello to a donkey in a yard, the animal recognizing her immediately, sauntering over to the fence and talking to her in donkey-speak. Big animal, its winter coat thick and fuzzy.

From there, the airport in Burlington, the wait to board the plane. (An announcement made via the in-house PA system, mid-wait: "Someone left their Shea Body Butter at the security checkpoint. Please come to security to claim your..." -- here they drew the words out comically, as if enjoying the moment far too much -- "Shea... Body... Butter.") Not the kind of announcement you'd hear in a major airport. In teeny Burlington International, however, you might.

A fast flight to Philly. Then more waiting. Then the flight to Madrid. A long flight, me trapped in my window seat by a heavyset Spanish woman who slept most of the way. (Note: to any who might consider flying U.S. Air from Philadelphia to Madrid -– the two times that I've taken that flight in recent months, I have experienced the two worst examples of airline food that I've ever had the misfortune to choke down. The in-flight crew were good people, but the chow? Deadly. Be warned.)

And then Madrid. Soft January sunlight, Spanish being spoken all around. And when I entered this flat, I experienced a feeling I would be hard-pressed to describe. That of being home, maybe, or of being in what currently feels like home. Unlocked the door, walked in, dropped my bags, slipped into the loo for a fast whiz, immediately went back out and found a neighborhood joint for an espresso and something to eat.

Streets busy with weekday activity, normal life going on. Simple things, with a surprising power to comfort and satisfy.

Back in the city. For now.

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

Lottery ticket vendor on a chilly January morning, Madrid




España, te quiero.

rws 5:22 AM [+]

Comments:
Fascinating stuff. I have bookmarked you on this damn B-explosion thing until I figure out how to add you to my Bloglines.
 
Thanks!
 
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
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January 2009
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March 2009
April 2009
June 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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