Yesterday: Thanksgiving stateside, just another day here. A work day, and I spent it planted in front of the computer, laboring away while the building's ongoing rehab work carried on in relatively tranquil fashion, apocalyptic pounding and hammer-drilling breaking out only now and then. (For which I gave thanks.) A beautiful, chilly November day, sunlight pouring in the windows, me with a decent place to live in, in a part of the world I love, with good food and running water and a working computer. (For which I gave thanks.)
Thanksgiving never came up in my life here this year, no one mentioned it, no invites to ex-pat Thanksgiving dinners came my way. (For which, truthfully, I gave thanks. A simpler life, minus holiday hooha is fine with me right now -- there'll be hooha in abundance when I get back stateside on the 19th.) Normal life reigned, with all its benign routines. Got up in the morning as the workers began shouting back and forth in the stairwell (them gearing up for the daily destructo-derby). Showered, etc., pulled on clothes. Went out, picked up a paper, walked to a local morning joint for a good cup of brew and a tasty croissant. Strolled back here along busy streets, plenty of people about living normal life. Came home, found the doors to the apartment across the hall and its upstairs neighbor closed, the workers having been thoughtful enough to spare me having to close the doors myself to contain waves of noise and dust. (For which, seriously, I gave thanks.)
And on and on. Blessings of all kinds, and plenty of them.
And today? Took myself to the first showing of 'Harry Potter and The Longest Movie Credits In History.' Walked in 20 minutes beforehand, the sign above the box office warned that only first-row tickets remained. I had a hunch, though. Waited on line, asked the pixie behind the glass if there might be any available single seats tucked away around the theater, wound up with a center spot in the ninth row. Pretty much perfect. (Er, except for the movie, which felt to me like the film equivalent of a high-tech Reader's Digest condensed novel. Great dragon, though. And Mad-Eye Moody is a hoot.)
And then out into the falling darkness to wander about and enjoy the growing number of Christmas displays, first stopping to ponder the huge, inexplicable, underwater-themed display at El Corte Inglés (Jesus, Mary and Joseph surrounded by cheery starfish, seahorses, merpeople).
After which more restrained, less surreal displays came as soothing relief.
Madrid, te quiero.
rws 6:32 AM [+]
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