Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Another morning riven by the sound of low-flying military aircraft. Helicopters. Jet fighters. In this case, because today is a holiday, el Día de la Hispanidad. A big deal -- in part Spain's homage to Columbus (Colón) and his reaching the new world -- referred to as la fiesta nacional. As I write this, a half mile from here in la Plaza de Colón, the country's political heavyweights have gathered to watch a long ceremony presided over the King. Flag raising, wreath laying, anthem singing, long lines of armed forces personnel in dress uniform. Followed, at some point, by a big parade showing off military might. Bleachers have been set up alongside the major thoroughfare that stretches north and south from the plaza, lots of folks will turn out.

Me, I had a night of fitful sleep. Spent yesterday evening in the company of a very nice woman, our chemistry not exactly working, at least not the way it did the first time, one evening last week. Leaving me feeling mighty restless afterward, at loose ends. Being the night before a holiday, the streets were filled with people out to party, bars, restaurants, clubs, cafés doing big business. And good for them. The downside: loads of street noise well into the wee hours, finally letting up when heavy rain began falling around 4 or 5 a.m.

When I returned to Madrid eight days ago, I found this building in more or less the same state as when I left at the end of May -- undergoing rehab, being torn partially apart, put partially back together. Scaffolding hung with green netting had been tossed up in front of the structure's other half during my months away, the hallways remained partway ripped up, coils of wiring and flexible tubing hung from ceiling and walls, white dust everywhere. When I entered the flat, I found the dust had made its way under the door, covering everything with a thin, white film -– everything. Necessitating immediate clean-up (this despite my sainted landlords having mopped floor some weeks back). Dragged the Hoover -- an ancient, high-mileage machine that shed one of its wheels a year or two back so that it literally had to be dragged around the place during cleaning -- from its hiding spot, plugged it in, discovered it had given up the ghost during my time away. Got out a broom, did what I could. (The landlords -- bless 'em -- have since replaced the Hoover with a sleek new dirtsucker.)

This morning, a wonderful woman I know came and cleaned up what I didn't get, doing a far more exhaustive job than I was willing to do. Much better.

And now the day stretches ahead. Sun and clouds play tag, aircraft flyovers continue, the neighborhood slowly comes to life. I've gone out, done the caffeine/breakfast thing, picked up a paper. Time to study. Or write.

Or go back to bed. Or call a friend or two.

Or something. Time'll tell what.

Later.


Madrid, te quiero.

rws 6:19 AM [+]

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