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Friday, April 06, 2007 As the Thursday and Friday before Easter always are here, the streets of this barrio and of the city center in general have been quiet these last two mornings, so very quiet. The kind of quiet that most places in the States experience on Christmas morning. A few people were about yesterday when I stepped outside around ten, walking, chatting quietly, now and then someone passing pulling a wheeled suitcase. This morning the streets were literally dead, a handful of people scattered around the neighborhood. No markets open, most newsstands and coffee pushers closed. Light rain fell from low, gray skies, freakish weather for this time of year -- an anomaly that's taken hold of much of the country during the last week and a half, producing flooding in many places to the north. One local morning joint, usually jammed with customers tossing down caffeine (and the occasional glass of hooch), was sparsely attended, the characters behind the bar able to work without their normal edge of frenzy. So sparsely attended this morning that it left me feeling unsatisfied, wanting another shot of espresso but somewhere with a little more life. A walk of a few blocks brought me to a main drag and another joint, this one a bit more down and dirty. Crowded with people, most of whom streamed out soon after I ordered my hit of caffeine, leaving a free table for me to spread out newspaper, food, espresso, the sound level quieting enough that I could hear the in-house radio, a tune by Queen in progress. The local world livened up some yesterday with the passing hours, me taking long walks through the center (American tourists are suddenly everywhere, something else that always happens during Easter week). Stopped in at an exhibit of contemporary British art, me the only visitor during most of my time there, the artwork leaving me mostly indifferent with one notable exception: a slideshow playing in one small room, photos taken of a 20-something woman in an immense apartment complex under a mostly cloudy English sky -- not fancy flats at all, but everything in good repair, the buildings mostly identical, no one about except the one woman and rows of parked cars. The photos not arty at all, just bread and butter images, one after another. Found myself loving it, and stayed there for a while. Just me and the changing shots in an otherwise empty room, in an otherwise empty hall. Quiet, though less quiet with the hours. A few restaurants opened, a few stores along the largest of the main drags. And movie theaters opened, prompting me to take in a matinee -- The Good Shepherd, newly arrived in this part of the world. (I couldn't agree less, btw, with reviews that called it slow-moving or tedious, found it top-notch in every respect. But depressing.) In the theater, as out in the street, a substantially higher than normal percentage of American English could be heard before the lights went down. When the lights came up at the end, I was relieved to find myself out in open air, with life going on all around. Normal life, with normal people, not quietly murderous spooks, or families slowly imploding. España, te quiero. rws 5:17 AM [+]
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