Thursday, January 31, 2008

Yesterday, early a.m.: me in a neighborhood joint, working on an espresso and a croissant. Next to me sat a 50ish gent, working on a beer. Normal looking, dressed neatly and casually, gray hair. The in-house stereo played a tune by Joaquin Sabina, my neighbor sang along quietly.

Yesterday afternoon: rounded a corner from shadow into late-day sunshine. Two women stood in the street there talking. They turned and walked in my direction as I appeared, we collided, all three of us went, "Oy!"

Today, midday: me in the window seat of a local café -- scribbling in a notebook, working on an espresso. At some point, I realized the in-house stereo was playing a jazz version of 'The Christmas Song' -- a very late xmas wish? a very, very early xmas wish? -- then noticed that a sad, dead Christmas tree which had appeared on a balcón across the street immediately after Christmas Day remained there. Brown, skeletal, almost completely without needles. Perhaps a local version of leaving Christmas lights up for weeks, months, years.

[Which reminds me, the only remaining member of my biological family claims he used to leave the following poem in the mailbox of houses that had Christmas lights up long into the new year (to be sung to the tune of "Christmas Is Coming"):
Easter is coming, the ice is getting thin,
Won't you please find a box to put your Christmas lights in.
If you can't find a box then a paper bag will do,
If you can't find a paper bag, God bless you.
]

This afternoon: on an impulse, decided to investigate lunch at a wine bar not far from here, an example of the kind of concern that's sprouted up in recent years with the barrio's upscaling. I'm not much of a wine drinker, but noticed recently they'd begun offering a menú del día that looked pretty good, figured they'd provide some non-grape-derived beverages.

The place stood nearly empty when I stepped inside, at the tail end of the long local lunchtime. I asked the waiter if they were still serving lunch, he nodded, waving in the direction of the multitude of empty tables/chairs. Found a nice window perch, the waiter dropped a couple of menus on the table and wafted off. I glanced at them, saw he'd neglected to leave the menú del día listing, opting to give me the more expensive wine and a la carte hooha instead. I caught his attention, asked if the menú was still available. He approached, looking less than overjoyed, grabbed the items he'd left, gestured for me to get up and follow. I did, he led me to the room's farthest, darkest corner, where the joint's only diners sat crowded together in less elegant tables/chairs.

I shrugged, sat at the only table that would give me a teeny bit of privacy, ordered, sat scribbling in a notebook until the first plate arrived -- small, but okay. My fork brought food to my mouth as I studied the empty, spacious, sunlit dining area, comparing it with the cramped zone I sat in. And remembered one of my first flights to Madrid -- its second leg, from London to Spain, the enormous plane empty except for the compartment where they'd herded people like me -- your normal, economy-priced traveler -- all crammed together, the flight crew politely refusing to let anyone escape from steerage to the relief of a spot in one of the vast, empty seating sections.

Fortunately, wiped out from a night spent crossing the Atlantic followed by a long forced march through unending corridors in Heathrow, I nodded off, waking during the final descent, looking out a window to see Spanish countryside spread out below, giving way to 'burbs, then city, specks on the landscape swelling to become details of Madrid's daily existence -- buildings, vehicles, people.

Steerage -- so much fun. But as with everything, it passes. And at its end, there's life, waiting to take us off to better things.

I finished my meal, paid up and bolted, stepping out in sunlight so thick and golden it looked like I could reach out and take a handful of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coal seller's shop, Madrid:





-- runswithscissors is available for special occasions.

España, te quiero.

rws 11:14 AM [+]

Comments:
You must be independently wealthy!
 
i've just prioritized my existence and have gone for what i want, arranging what resources i have to support it. (easier to do, i know, when one is single, with no kids)
 
p.s. would i be flying steerage if i were loaded? (answer: no.)
 
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