My mind wanders to the many facets of life in Spain that I'll miss. What first comes to mind for me is the Catalan lisp. I realize no one here considers that delicious sound a lisp but, well, there's no better way to communicate it to english speakers. The hard "c", the "z," and the sedilla "c" (I think I'm correct) are all pronounced in such a way as to produce a wet, lusciousness in speech rather than a sound for which to apologize, as Americans would have it. In Nashville when I want to go salsa dancing, I head to a club called "Ibitha." not "Ibiza." I won't correct you when you say it the latter way, but I would rather remind myself of how Spaniards pronounce the island name. Look at me funny, snicker behind my back, but it shall remain. The sound creates a soft richness of speech which makes my eyes linger on the lips of the speaker. And now I'm at a loss as to say more. Come to Spain and you'll know.
The hot, bright sunlight slathered over every person and landscape I will certainly miss. This should have come first. what my friends know of me is that I'm first a sunlight addict, if anything. I would retire in southern France or Italy or anywhere in Spain to chase the sun til my last breath if I could work it out. Just as my daughter was reaching her limit of heat on the beach I was just beginning to feel perfect. Even now I'm situated as close to the sunlit balcony as my chair will allow, my legs cramped against the permanent half-window sealed here for safety. Last evening as we sauntered down the sidewalk to Placa de Reina (say "Platha"), the evening sun was so bright as to defy anything I've ever known of the 9pm sky. (Sunset is 10:30 in June). It blinded us so that we had to cock our heads to the side to make our way to our destination. It is this sort of sun that cheers both psyche and soul and warms the skin. I want nothing else.
With only a few moments to finish before dragging our bags on the 20-minute walk to the train station, I must admit that I have enjoyed far more than expected the unexpected nature of our travels. Up until my trip to St. Martin last summer (which was nearly derailed despite rigorous planning), I was studious before any vacation, determining before departure my chosen haunts, best routes, and the recommendations of seasoned adventurers. The St. Martin trip taught me that sometimes reality works against a plan, and that my stubbornness nearly unraveled my joy. Perhaps that left such a mark as to cause in me an inexplicable inability to plan this current trip to Spain. Up until a week before I felt frozen.... I could not so much as look at a guidebook, map, or train schedule. I had only our flight confirmation to and from Europe, and the desire to see and spend time with my daughter who is studying for one month on the Spanish coast. The impromptu has proven incredibly satisfying, indeed freeing for me. I've been able to follow the momentary whims of my thirteen-year-old daughter who is my travel companion, the late notice of group plans in a hostel, and other surprises along the way. I can honestly say that this is now my preferred way to travel.
I must go. Time to hike it to the train station, back to Barcelona, and to the airport tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, enjoy the unexpected.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I'd love to hear from you!