Life took over last week, as it sometimes does when existence gets sloppily intense. Far too many things demanding far too much attention, the ongoing adjustment to being back in northern Vermont and not in Madrid limping along at its own pace. I continue to wake up in the wee hours as if my adorable bod were still operating on Spanish time, the inner clock set six timezones ahead. Mostly I can feel I won't be drifting off again, make my way through the Kubler-Ross process (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), drag myself out from under the lovely warm sheets, pull on clothes, stumble downstairs to get the stove cranking for the day.
Mind you, I'm not complaining about existence getting sloppily intense. Compared to recent Madrid days of coexistence with encroaching construction, this long, untidy span of north country reacclimation is fine. Or doable. Reasonably benign.
So. A quiet Christmas, joining neighbors for a first-class dinner, weirded out all over again by scheduling here -- the event getting underway at 5, me heading home by 8 (going Huh?), an hour early enough that in Madrid the evening's entertainment would not yet have commenced. The neighbors: an interesting bunch, her a chef running a small café and a catering biz, him a photographer, both their beautiful daughters a pleasure to be around. Their version of the holidays: multicultural, with Christmas, Hanukkah and assorted paganish/solsticey frufru coexisting in harmony. (To any who might feel outraged by that: deal with it.)
Conversation, food prep., manorah lighting, sitting down to an excellent dinner. I tend not to eat a whole of meat when I'm on this side of the Atlantic -- don't ask me why, just works out that way. On the far side of the Atlantic, meat's more a normal part of my life, meat of all kinds (the Spaniards being a crew that will essentially consume anything that moves). Not here. So the fact that someone not only prepared a killer meal for me, but handed me a plate of prime rib to douse in gravy and scarf down was a major event. And latkes, a pile of latkes. (Yee-ha!)
An interesting aspect of the event: the father -- a good guy, intelligent and capable -- seemed to feel that the younger of the two daughters needed to be controlled, that her spirit and energy represented the threat of chaos. And what do I know, I haven't spent a whole of time around her. But I think she's a genuine delight -- bright, good-natured, impish, with one of the most infectious laughs I've come across in a long time. A great kid, someone I suspect will be a force to reckon with as she grows older.
Anyway. So went Christmas day -- here then gone, passing at disturbing speed. A few post-Christmas days later, I found myself up early one morning shoving some bags into the car, headed south to hook up with friends in Cambridge, Mass. and continue south to Cape Cod. To Provincetown, where G&S have a condo, to pass an extended weekend in the relative quiet of the Cape's off-season.
An interesting place, Provincetown -- a potent mixture of natural beauty (heavy on ocean and beaches), people of all kinds (heavy on gay and arty types, but attracting folks of all stripes from all over, some with big $$$, others with slim, even nonexistent finances), wild energy during the high season, and a more reflective, meditative atmosphere during the rest of the year.
Compared to the high season, the town seemed quiet, nearly empty, many shops closed and dark, far fewer folks than normal about. With nightfall, however, Christmas lights came quietly to life, the few open restaurants did good business, the sounds of conversation and laughter audible as groups of people walked the narrow streets. And this being the holidays, the few humans about were in socializing mode. The result: a weekend largely spent at get-togethers, in the company of many friendly people, everyone into the spirit of it all.
The low point: 30 minutes of an otherwise top-notch New Year's Eve dinner when an otherwise lovely group of
[continued in entry of Jan. 6]
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Yesterday morning -- Provincetown, Massachusetts:
This evening -- East Calais, Vermont:
Madrid, te echo de menos.
rws 7:31 PM [+]
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