Alejandro arrived from Madrid and is giving Tin a much needed injection of boy time. Yesterday, they played soccer in the plaza and today they’re off for boy’s day on the beach – and a much needed break for mommy. Yay to boys!
We have been having a party almost every night. Saturday night it was the arrival of our friend from Madrid, Sunday it was Zahara and summer friends, and last night it was some colleagues from the summer program here in Cadiz. You don’t need a reason to have a party in Spain and Tin said he would like to have five parties this week, and we are well on our way.
We made mussels in the Andalusian style – chopped tomatoes, onions and sweet peppers on top of steamed mussels. queso payoyo (an artisanal cheese in Cadiz), manchego (Spain’s best cheese), chorizo, ham, tomato salad, pan integral (bread from the local bakery), and of course a tray of bon bons complete with torcino del ciel (heaven’s bacon which is actually a flan that is deliciously eggy custard).
An artist friend of mine in San Francisco did this fabulous series of playground structures – in one there was a slide breaking through the fog – it was just magic. The playground down Benjumeda in Parque Genoves has structures that remind me of her paintings, and more, they have dinosaurs.
While there does seem to be a lot of dinosaurs popping up around Spain, the one thing I feel almost certain about is no playground in the U.S. has this sign posted all around:
On Sunday, from the get go, there were signs and portents – a guy walking by with a tee shirt that read “Don’t worry be happy!” – a billboard that said, “Today is the best day of my life!” and so it was that the day was crafted around this idea – we caught the bus early this morning to go to Zahara de los Atunes and as soon as we arrived, I felt like a dolphin in the water wanting to jump up and yell ARRIBA ARRIBA – it was a wonderful familiar homecoming to this Andalusian village.
But as we walked through the town, stopping to say hi to this one and that one, we noticed the wine store we loved was closed, and the cheese store was closed (turned into a clothing store) and we were a little aghast that the crisis was messing with our idyllic spot (later we learned thankfully the cheese store opened across the street to a smaller venue).
I have a photographic memory of Zahara from three years ago when we arrived and it is next to impossible to replace with a different view and yet there I was walking through the village looking different myself – come on, three years ago I had this luxurious head of hair and a Wall Street income – now all’s changed, I am different, I am no longer the store front I used to be – but yet, my dear friend, who has seen her own share of crisis in her life, said to me, “You are like a cannon, Rachel.”
We spent the day catching up with our friends; always starting with Tata first (she was Tatjana’s dear friend’s nanny) where Tin is treated to his ubiquitous Galletas Maria (cookies).
Then a stop at Isi’s (our friend’s partner who owns one of the best restaurants in town) to wish him happy birthday, and then onward to the Geisha’s (restaurant Pradillo) to meet other friends:
Then off with one to get her teenage son up for lunch (it was three o’clock!) and to the others to have said lunch (read: feast) – a jambalaya with cuttlefish, salmorejo (like gazpacho but less liquid), manchego with membrillo, tuna sashimi, and of course, a fabulous flan.
On the bus to and from Zahara we were treated to the icons of Spain – vast sunflower fields, big bad bulls, and modern windmills – Tin had asked for a game on my iPhone but I ignored him, then he kept his nose pasted to the window as no video game could compare to this view.
Our friend who is staying with us from Madrid said Zahara reminded him of his youth in Almeria, growing up with his brother on the coast. Tatjana’s father has always said, you can’t be on the coast for less than a month because it takes a full month of surf and sun to restore your sense of self.
Later in Cadiz, our friends said if he was wealthy every day would be like this day – then he amended and said, but look at us, we are rich, richer than kings.
Viva España, joy to the beach, and long live summer friends.
For 4th of July, the bayou back home in New Orleans was resplendent with the Krewe of Kollosos boat parade. Our friend who is staying at our house and taking care of our four legged family members sends a photo of what we missed:
Tatjana got me Tony Judt’s book The Memory Chalet, which I’m reading now that I finished the Epstein book. I’m one third of the way into it and already highly recommend. Judt is a historian and his writing is top notch; sadly this book is about his memories as he was dying from Lou Gehrig’s disease when he wrote it.
Yesterday, our friend arrived from Madrid as he will be speaking to the class about an Almodovar film on Monday. We sat out in Plaza San Antonio having a beer when he arrived at midday. I was watching how Tin’s sphere of distance from us has grown since he’s been in Europe – the plazas afford the perfect place for parents to have a coffee or cocktail while kids can run around. He quickly made friends with two Chinese kids whose parents were working the kiosks, and with one little Spanish girl who had a gold hula hoop. I don’t recall that he has ever been so far away from us in terms of measurement with us being so relaxed.
Most of the beginning of Judt’s book talks about how he as a child took the trains alone all over London and about his nightly wanderings. It’s crazy to think these days that our children could be left to their own devices at a mere 10 or 12 years old – the poor things have to be tied to us like a ball and chain because the world we live in is so scary. Or is it?
Like bacteria and the need to sanitize, have we created a world out of fear – has that much changed in the last few decades? Or have we?
Later in the evening, we had our Cuban friend over for a little party (as Tin called it – he loves a party, good old New Orleans boy that he is). We served tapas – Spanish ham, almonds, a salad of cucumbers and tomatoes, truffle pate, cauliflower and carrots while Tatjana made us gin and tonics. Except for our friend for who I made the ubiquitous tinto de verano (red wine mixed with lemon soda).
The conversation turned at once to politics. Cadiz is known for its high unemployment, the highest in Spain, also known for its high unemployment, so now with unemployment at a record high, how is it possible that the largest and most modern parador is being built down the street I wondered. “Mafia,” our friend from Madrid said, “Everything in Spain is controlled and run by the Mafia.” Our Cuban friend who has retired here said that a lot of what she has enjoyed will most likely be unavailable to her children who are now in their 40s. As a retired person, the country offers senior citizen trips everywhere around Spain at low to no cost. She can take a bus anywhere within the city for free, she has health care for free, she basically is enjoying her golden years – something that you cannot say for any American despite the fact that Americans work harder than any other country to obtain their wealth.
Judt talks about how the trains that existed when he was young have been privatized and have lost all their value – no longer is the driver and conductor a familiar face, but instead they are removed from the passengers and only engage for commerce. Our friend talked about how most of why she retired in Cadiz will be gone for her children in Zahara by the time they retire – gone like the days when we as kids played in the streets unattended for hours at a time without a helicopter parent to tug on our leashes.
Spain has 17 autonomous political bodies all of which enjoy privileges and wealth that will most likely have to be done away with – but no one will shed a tear when that happens. Our friend is from Cuba and spent some of the evening reminiscing about her pro-Castro stance as a youth at that time which soured quickly when the firing squads began purging all vestigial politicians – she said, “Can you imagine in a peaceful loving country to have killings like this happening every day?”
The world is again changing because the economy, global that it is, is forcing us all to reconsider entitlements. Meanwhile, mafia, politicians, the dangers in the streets all seem more menacing than in years past – but are they?
As I walked our friend home, despite there being no need – she’s in her late 70s and can walk the streets of Cadiz at midnight with no fear whatsoever of her safety (something that New Orleans has never been able to boast of nor for that matter most any city in the U.S) – I marveled at the fact that the little Chinese kids were still in the plaza – 12 hours later – unattended. She said the kids are out late on the weekends especially, but Spanish kids in general stay up late (no kidding).
I said New Orleans does not offer a safe haven for children to be out late, or for young kids to be out without their parents, and for that matter, for a young brown boy to be out unattended. She said, “Yes, but that is changing isn’t it. By the time Tin grows up that should no longer be a problem?”
Really?
My brother writes me that he remembers me as a child – “always easy to talk to, always easy to put down for sleep, always so gentle. You were such a pleasure to hold, I remember so well.”
Awwww. Nice to know I wasn’t a brat!
On our walk to the wine store last night, we saw there was a Marimekko exhibit at a contemporary art museum, and there is also a ferry to take to Puerto Santa Maria to have lunch over there, and yesterday I walked to Plaza España and saw Casa de 4 Torres – which is a house made of four houses designed to look as one facade – with four towers, it was impressive.
All this wandering started as I was looking for a gym, but the gyms I found smell like ammonia and sweat and there has been very little compelling about going into these places, when outside is the sun, cool breeze and sea air. Plaza España, Plaza San Francisco, Plaza Arguelles – or gym?
Wander down narrow streets of Cadiz where the deep blue sea beckons at the end of every journey or go to the gym?
I was hoping to find a Zumba class here but haven’t. To exercise at the gym? To find a routine like running or weights? Or to go off road for a while and just wander around sort of like my mind. I think you know the answer.
After a week of being in Spain, I’m finally starting to dream in technicolor something that happens with incredible frequency when I’m away from my day to day life. Last year, my big dream was the bridge, the storm and the end. It was an incredibly vivid one that haunted me for the rest of the year and proved to be prescient for how the year would unfold.
My dream started on Tuesday night, when I dreamed that my brother who is in prison was out and I had met him to drive him somewhere, only he had his face turned from me and he said, “They did this to me, they hurt me.” And then he turned to face me and I thought his eye was missing, but then it turns out it was shut from a bruise and his face was battered.
The next day I wrote him on the prison email and he said, he thought that the dream signified hope, because he was “out” in the dream, and that the black eye was the hurt he had caused his family by being away from them.
I took a deep breath. Then the next night I dreamed about his daughter, my niece, and that I was to take her somewhere only “they” were after her and I was trying to hide her in many places, and trying to protect her, and I kept going from one place to the other and finally getting in the car, “they” found us and opened fire, but I woke before a bullet actually hit.
Disturbing.
I tried to shake these haunting dreams. I wanted to believe that what my brother said was true – it was a good omen. But I felt like each time someone I loved deeply was in peril, needed protection, was not safe. I looked up some dream interpretations and mostly came across the general sense that when you dream that someone you love is in danger and you need to protect them that you have put up artificial boundaries around yourself and are walled off.
Well, okay, I could see that – in my studies of Buddhism I could easily see myself right now as a person who is walled off, fearful of being vulnerable and scared to let go. This is why I find myself in Cadiz, taking the healing waters of Spain, in order to get back to me.
I didn’t write my brother about the dream of his daughter for fear he didn’t need one more thing to worry about with her. But I thought about it a lot. She keeps showing up on Facebook and I keeping wanting to reassure myself that she is okay, but really, how would that be accomplished? Me: “are you okay?” Her: “sure am.” And then what?
It made me think of how complex our minds are and how we build up these set up fears that stem from early on. I was reminded of this because Tin has started to say he is scared when he goes to sleep. He said, “Someone comes in the door, and then … ” and he is unable to complete it. Sometimes he will say it is yodeling man from the Balthazar cartoons he watches with Tatjana because yodeling man yodels when he’s happy but he lives in the alps and every time he yodels there is an avalanche.
I have a memory that is imprinted on my brain from being his age – I slept on the bottom bunk of a bunkbed and I was supposed to take a nap only I didn’t want to, so my brother, David, came in to put me to sleep. He always spoke to me as an adult and he was asking if I knew the meaning of a certain word (the word I can’t remember) and he was speaking to me about the word and how to use it in a sentence, and I always remember him, smiling, young, thin and tanned speaking to me in his pleasant voice. That image is so profound now as I try to put Tin to nap and he protests.
Last night, I dreamed that I ran into my sister and her husband and they were going to dinner to have filet mignon – she said she was craving steak – and they said they were going to go again with David to eat, only in the dream names and people got twisted and they were going to have this dinner on January 8th, which is my brother Bob’s birthday, and I said well you better invite him to dinner now because he won’t be alive by January 8th. (I still can’t remember if my brother or my father was born on the 8th, one was on the 9th and I get them confused.)
Again a sibling in peril, but this time with a little more ease, sort of matter of fact.
As we are here in Cadiz forming our summer memories, remember this is the year that I lost my hair – “remember?” we will all say in anecdote later on. Remember when you lost your hair, remember when I didn’t want to take my nap, remember when your brother/father was in prison, remember when you were young and then you weren’t?
These dreams and memories need space to breathe, and the life of busy has kept them submerged in the tundra of my unconscious, maybe it’s true that dreams of protecting a loved one mean we are protecting ourself from harm, maybe walls that have formed over half a century require longer bits of time to break down.
July 05, 2012
Taurus (4/20-5/20)
This is it — the chance you have been waiting for! Don’t you recognize it? What — you don’t? Okay, then in order to see what you need to see you have to open your eyes. This means breaking out of your current routine and looking at life through fresh eyes. Turn your world upside down by imagining what your life would be like if you were born a hundred years ago — or a hundred years from now! Suddenly, you will understand the opportunity that is right in your midst.