Friday, August 02, 2002

Hot, muggy weather arrived yesterday morning, I've been intermittently worthless since then. Unshaven, ragged-looking, hair pointing every which way. Mighty unattractive. (And I give thanks that there aren't mirrors scattered around the house so that I'm not continually catching glimpses of me, 'cause the unnerving, eye-widening moments when I do result in an urge to shriek.) I've gone from a dynamic environment of sound, movement, energy, abundant diversion to, er, where I am -- out in the middle of beautiful nowhere. Why do I get the feeling this may not work?

'Course I could be jumping the gun. I just need more three-dimensional human interaction than I'm getting right now. Luckily there are one or two possibilities for socializing coming up this weekend, and possible connecting via telephone. Maybe that'll fill the bill. Yeah.

A week ago at this time I was in my piso in Madrid (keeping in mind the six-hour time difference), the TV spewing Spanish in the background as I gradually pointed myself in the direction of the bedroom. It had been my last day of intensive language classes with that quirky group -- a good day, full with activity, interesting folks, new experiences. In fact, I managed to scribble the following rundown late that afternoon:

"The last day in class, at least with this current group, went well. No, really. For more than one reason. First, there were only four of us -– smaller, which seems to engender more tranquility. Second, Pietro was back after yesterday's truancy due to car problems. He's an expansive, benign, funny presence and affects the atmosphere. He and I get along fine, which seemed to have a ripple effect. Third, it didn't matter to me how things went -– I was going to enjoy myself. And did. (Damn, I'm good.)

"Last night's visit to the ATM didn't pan out. Neither machine at the local branch of my bank could seem to deal with my ATM card, claiming it was damaged. After class today, I went to the branch where I opened my account, intending to get a replacement card. On impulse, I slid the card into an ATM machine there, suddenly it functioned again. I was a real person once more, able to request money, which I did immediately. The machine seemed delighted to comply, presenting me with euros and sparing me the need to beg/plead/grovel/implore the bank staff for a new card, at least until my return to Madrid, whenever that turns out to be –- October? November? Don't know right now. If there's further ATM mischief, I'll deal then.

"Yet another beautiful day here, same as yesterday. Extremely, almost excessively user-friendly. Hot in the afternoon in that no-humidity way Madrid has, meaning as long as one tends not to spend too much time in full sunlight all is well. Least that's how I experience it. The walls of my apartment are thick, the windows southern-facing but placed to allow plenty of light with no direct sunshine until evening time. Works for me. So while the temperature scaled heights that had some people complaining, my little life felt just fine. Plus, really, I hear someone going off about the heat and my thoughts turn to the outrageous displays of summertime heat/humidity that I'm used to in the northeast U.S. After which my general response to complaints re: Madrid's heat is usually What, are you kidding?

"I spent eight years in a large brick apartment building on the corner of Mass. Ave. and Hancock Street in Cambridge, Mass., in a small one-bedroom dive. Five windows, all in a line along the outside wall –- no cross-ventilation, no A/C. When the global warming summers began showing up in the late 80s, heat waves rolled in, each day hotter than the next, humidity intense enough that the covers of paperback books curled up from the ambient moisture. Two, three, four days of that made sleep impossible -- the building soaked up relentless light and heat during the day, radiating it out at night. I'd get up in the early morning hours, the tiles in my roach-infested kitchen would be unpleasantly warm under my feet, my steps producing a sticky sound. Compared with that, Madrid is out-and-out paradise.

"But I blather...."

[continued in next entry]

rws 5:47 PM [+]

BLATHERINGS

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