Honestly, I don’t know
This is the last week of school for the students in Cadiz and also, our visitors from Croatia are on a three day excursion. I write this today, a cool breeze blowing through the open windows, the noise from the streets ever present, and I’ve come to the conclusion that if a month is almost up of our visit to Spain, I don’t know anymore than what I started with. You always think you’ll get a little closer to what it is, and it continues to slink under the cracks and crevices mostly unidentifiable.
Tin tried walking on the ceiling.
It was an idea he had and once he did it, he almost seemed bewildered at how easy it actually was to do it.
We stroll and stroll, we sit in cafes, we venture out, we stay in, and little more is known about our existence than what we knew when we rose in the morning.
We eat – it seems at times too much – yesterday’s lunch was tortilla española, cucumber salad, chorizo, and fried potatoes – this is what we made from the only store open here on Sunday that was busy selling empanadas of tuna and meat but we longed for something from our own kitchen.
We make resolutions to not eat so much, to not have so many copas of gin tonics with our friends at night, to get out more and do this or that, to rest more, to be more. And yet, every day I walk in the room and cow stares at me with judgmental eyes. Well? the cows say in his silence. Well? I say back. Here I am.
They say when you are on your death bed you wish you had spent more time with your loved ones, well what if that is as uninspired as wanting a tuna fish sandwich for your last supper? What if upon death, suddenly the light bulb goes off and you say, “Eureka, I have it, I finally understand?” How many have said that on their death bed I wonder.
Last night, we pulled out the mustaches because we wanted to – we wanted to disguises ourselves for a moment, to feel gay and light, and to take a memorable photo.
The disguise worked for a moment – Matko didn’t feel heavy, Rachel didn’t feel bald, Tin didn’t remember it was time for bed, and Tom had a great sense of self. We worked it out in that moment with our disguises. And then soon it was bedtime for everyone and morning once again, our demons ready to pounce on us as soon as we woke from the groggy otherworld of dreams.
July 28th, 2012 at 11:08 am
I have to get myself une moustache!
(you deserve an Oscar for your performance in that photo)
July 28th, 2012 at 11:22 am
I love those mustaches – they were a silly gift from a friend trying to cheer me up and they are just so fun. Sort of like all my wigs that I used to wear at the spur of the moment and yet, when I became bald I developed an aversion to wigs – isn’t that absurd? I swear if you picture the world as some divine game that is set up to trip you up you have to just laugh in the face of it, and then you gain some deeper understanding of the world but it doesn’t necessarily ever seem fair, or right, or whatever.
July 28th, 2012 at 11:35 am
Well if it IS a game, then that explains a lot. I’ve never been interest in games, not the competitive type. This would also explain why I feel as if I’m only watching while others live — I’m not playing the game of life. Hmmmmm… you’re making me THINK when all I wanted to do, today, was be like the dogs and wander.
Wigs & mustaches = maybe your inner private detective wants to come out.