Why is there not a deodorant that smells of fire? I came back from the flamenco show smelling of it. I love it.
One thing I haven’t adjusted to is the Spanish sense of breaking up a day. Noon and everything is still closed, things begin to swing around 3pm, but then abruptly stop until 7pm and there’s a lull again from 9-10pm where the night life begins for the early bird crowd. I keep wondering what locals do in the meantime?
Grab your friend from Portland, Oregon and watch Going the Distance it seems. I’ve come to find out that this small artistic city of many bridges attracts gobs of Oregonians. Yuki, Rachel, Jennifer and Joseph are a few of them, most are UO graduates. Not all of them came over as a pregnancy pact, but quickly met. Am I alarmed, or disgusted? It hasn’t ruined any mysteries, but it does make me feel as if I went the safest route. I begin to think about what Americans look for in the world at large, aside from underground gambling.
Out on my own I visited Fotomata to see some photographs. I was sitting in the Plaza De Torros and wondered what good was it to see a Bullfighting Arena, without a bullfight. I doubt I’d enjoy seeing it, but the circular arena isn‘t grand without a throng.
Yesterday was the first day that I’ve relaxed on this trip. I sat on the balcony, eating a Napolitana for a few hours, talked with people in the late afternoon, and as the sun went down I got some work in and even wrote a sketch. And in the greatest tradition of comedy I asked myself, “Is this funny, or just weird?”
And if you ever find yourself on a long trip, or need to pass the time for other reasons I pose the following question:
If you could speak and understand every language on earth, but your vocabulary and accents are all based off of one movie, which movie would it be? You may not be able to order food, but you can ask “Did he come in your mouth?” if you choose Closer, and mind you this affects how you say things. So if you chose Beauty and the Beast some of your say, Punjabi phrases would be sung in the approximate voice of the Beast. A smart route is to take a Woody Allen movie, as it packs in a great deal of words per minute, but you’ll always be whiny.
I ended the night at La Carboneria, watching a flamenco show. Sometimes all you hear is the wailing, and you really notice how much the Moors influenced the Iberian cultures. Speaking of, plans are set for the last leg of the trip. I cross the straight of Gibralter, head to Marrakech, see the desert, fly to Geneva, hike the Alps, then London - JFK by way of Munich.
Today is another rainy day and paradoxically the water is shut off. Because this place is built to be cool, it's frigid right now. Or maybe that's just the warm welcome I get when I say 'Que tal?' in the Wazzup voice.
Okay, one last thing, I'm watching Rachel from Portland who works here speak to Angie. Rachel doesn't know a word of Spanish, and is trying to tell Angie that she'll be back around 4. It's stereotypical. Rachel has worked here for six months. I suppose I just couldn't imagine living in a very foreign place just to 'live.' Maybe if she owned a motorcycle I would be more understanding.
Ultimately when I am an immigrant, I want to have loads of qualifications that can be ignored.
No comments:
Post a Comment