park it in the parque

One thing I have tried to reflect on while here in Spain is my obsession with time. As evidenced by not one but two previous posts about Countdown Syndrome, I still need to mark time over the long term. I am a planner at heart (ENFP), but I’m learning. I can go to the park on a Sunday afternoon without a watch. This is huge. I can stay up and talk to friends and go to bed when I’m tired, whether it’s 1am or 5am. This is also a big deal if you know me, and know how much I like my sleep.

There are many foreigners here trying to keep pace with the Spanish schedule. I am not one of them. Ok, I will eat lunch at 2 pm and start making dinner around 10 pm but that’s where I draw the line. I really don’t need to be out until absurd hours of the morning. I prefer to sleep like the dead and then wake up and make the most out of morning, taking advantage of the siesta later in the day. I will also eat whenever the hell I feel like eating, but that’s a post for another day.

This idea of leisure time is startling: la cultura del ocio or the leisure culture. Since there is no such thing as free time in the U S of A, it’s no wonder that I’m shocked by the whole concept. At home it seems like there is always something to be done, somewhere to be and some great sense of urgency. Just last night we were out walking in a big group and as usual the tall Northeasterners pull out in front.

“Es que … tenemos prisa. Somos del noreste” my roommate says (We’re in a hurry, we’re from the Northeast).

Our friend Sam (a West coast native) wants to know why that is. ¡Relajate! (relax). What IS the big rush? The truth is I have no idea. Is it the old Fear of Missing Something Good? or a little bit of Keeping Up With the Joneses? I like to call it Social Guilt, a blend of both of these. It’s when you can’t leave your phone at home, multitask just to survive and it takes a serious breakdown for you to go off the grid. But at the end of the day… does it really matter?

“¡Cállate, rubia!” - Spain says – “Go to the park and leave your watch at home.“

there’s something in the water

and this time I don’t mean the water bottle.

To be fair, it may be a mix of water and sunlight. If this is the case, let me say: There is something in Sevilla.

[ Monday ]

With my afternoon tutoring session canceled, I find myself with a free hour. I’ve already had coffee, snagged a banana at a nearby fruteria and located the government office I need to visit to get my “youth card.” Oh yes, at the age of 27 I am still a “youth” in Europe. More on this and the benefits of said card later.

It’s 6:30 pm and the sun is still shining. Its not glaring, its not blazing – it’s beautiful. It’s the not-too-hot, almost-sunset, heavy egg yolk sliding down the horizon beyond the bridges. Its the kind of sun you turn your face toward just for the sake of feeling it on your skin. Your eyes shut automatically and for 10 eternal seconds you don’t think about sunscreen or errands or homework.

I turn my face to the sun to confirm two things. The first of these: spring is coming. The second of these doesn’t occur to me right away, it takes its time reaching my brain, just like the vitamin D I’m soaking up with my fair skin. There it is. Take a look around, rubia – you’re in Spain! This is what your yoga instructor is talking about when she tells you to be in the moment. This is also the signpost painted for me by Spain. Tranquila, hija. Ok .. I give.

I love people watching. There is nothing I like better than posting up at a cafe and observing. This is a popular pasttime in the outdoor cafe culture, especially in Sevilla. One of the best places to grab a front row seat to these events is along the Guadalqivir River, which is where I am today. Looking out at Calle Betis with the noise of rowers in the water and cyclists on the wooden slats of the bike path, both water and sun are mesmerizing.

As though a switch has been flipped by the appearance of the sun, the Sevillanos spill into the streets. One of my favorite scenes is set like so: six tables outside a cafe, three are occupied. The patrons sit with their backs to the wall in various states of relaxation, with their faces to the sun. The other tables sit empty and no one speaks – a rarity in this country. Not the old man with the paper, the couple with the map, nor the student with the book. Even the black and white clad waiter has nothing to add, propped up in the doorway with his face tilted upward – the sun has said it all.

sunset view from our terrace

There is a magnetizing force between sun and Spaniard – something deeply rooted like the moon and the tides. It electrifies this city like a live wire and every patch of sunlight has someone in it. Grandma, toddler, father, pigeon or dog.

Time out, Spain says – can’t you see the sun is shining?

Off I go to Madrid to meet my parents for a 12 day Spanish vacation. We will tour Madrid, Sevilla, Granada and some nearby cities. Sunny skies await ..

what is it about this country?

Today is Friday, and I don’t have school. I lounged around all day and felt no rush to do anything. I tutored this morning, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with my tutoree at a local café, and made a trip to the post office. You know what happened after that jam-packed morning? I made lunch, and I took a nap. Man, I love naps.

This is the antithesis of what I refer to as “real life” back home in the Northeastern United States. Are you kidding me? I had lists everywhere and post-its on post-its about other post-its. There was always work and school and errands and the gym and volleyball matches and social events. If you add the fact I have to calculate driving time into all of this, I was never at a standstill. I am used to waking up at operating at full tilt (ok, most days) and going to bed exhausted but satisfied.  Granted, I like this. I am at my happiest and most productive when I have many projects going at the same time.

So what has Spain done to me? Here it is in a nutshell. It’s done the same thing to me that it did in 2004 when I came to Andalucia to study. Suddenly, I didn’t have to rush everywhere and be somewhere at all times. It took a long while for the running commentary to subside: Why are these people shopping at this hour – don’t they have somewhere to be? For God’s sake they walk SO SLOW .. get out of my way! There I was, the stereotypical northeasterner blazing through life on the fast track to who knows where. And then, there was Granada.

Slow down, Spain says. Tranquila. See these people in the plaza? In front of this ancient cathedral, sprawled out on the steps in the sunshine? Give it a try. It won’t hurt. Just take five minutes and sit down. Stop making excuses. Sit. Down. There that’s not so bad, is it? Wow this sunshine is glorious. It’s February and I don’t even need this jacket. Those shop windows are beautiful .. ooh watch out for those gypsies. There’s the guy with the accordion again. What book is that cute guy reading? I wish I had my camera. I could post up here and watch these tourists for hours. Maybe I will … ?

It was not at all this slow realization, but more like slamming head-on into a brick wall. Suddenly, this huge realization settled over me like the wayward pollen from the nearby rose garden. This is ok? I’m supposed to do this? Literally – do what my father has jokingly said all of these long years: stop and smell the roses. Well, hell.

So while I am still at my happiest when busy and juggling one hundred and one things .. this country has seeped into my bones here on my second tour, and I have a better appreciation for that no pasa nada attitude that my friends and I so admired several years ago.

Thanks, Spain. Keep it coming.

 

* in this oh-so-leisurely afternoon I managed a bit of a face lift on the blog .. let me know what you think!