Christmas Alone - Spainsh Thoughts
Also, I am alone, but the loneliness is not complete - for the air I breathe is that of Spain, and of Ronda, and my god - no one I know is as lucky as I am at this moment. It may be chilly, wet, damp, and lonely, but the beauty that is around me is the only kind that I truly need. I wonder, do the people of this country know the beauty that lays at their feet? With the golden dawns, the silver skies? The tourists are like glass beads and brass bangles - gaudy. And they ruin so much of the scenery with their shiny desires.
And the Spainards, so many of them dress up the lovely maiden that is Spain in further baubles made of glitter and glass to draw the eye of customers. It makes me angry, but then again, if they did not whore out the beauty that I have seen (as cheap as it makes her) then how would they keep her fed and clothed, and safe and somewhere remotely happy? They could not. And so, Spain, underneath the glimmers that shine like bait and reek of cheap of perfume, has a breathtaking quality that is not simple to describe. No pictures, no words can communicate what I see and feel as I walk down streets, look out windows, interract with others. The only way to know exactly the way I feel is to be inside my head, and that is a place that would frighten most, which it should. But, if one were to climb into my mind, my body, look through my memories and visions, and come to my here and now, to know, to see, to feel, to experience what I am at this moment:
That is the only way to know everything I am feeling at this moment.
The whitewash on the building beside me is old, peeling, and stained shades of gray and green with hints of black at the edges. Underneath it is a crumbled pile of red brick. Wooden support stick out from the walls there, and the windows are dusty, their sliding blinds partially shut. There is something stark, something soft, and raw and warm about it. Something loved, used, and forgotten. And yet, inside I know there is a family, celibrating their Christmas, happily having conversation and spending time together. Someone is probably too drunk, and someone is probably too tired, and yet they are all together, in this house while it is chilly outside, and the skies are bleakly gray. It makes me feel peaceful to cock my head and listen to the houses that line this little cobbled street, the lanes so narrow that only one car can fit through at a time, and even so there's cars parked on one side of this teeny street. Sometimes if I strain I can hear a boisterous laugh, or some cackling or a child's squeal.
On a small patio chair I rest, a ciggarette hanging from my lips as I type. And listen.
Always listening.
My ass is a little wet, my feet are cold in their furry purple and black striped socks, but I don't really care.
I'm too busy listening. I feel as though I am a fly on the wall everywhere I go, so caught up in watching that I forget sometimes, many times (hell, too often entirely), to live, to take part in it. Part of me minds this, but it's so... fascinating to watch and listen. On my tiny patio rest then, alone for this Christmas day except for Fleur, the owner of the little (very relative term here 'little' as the rooms are ginormous, you could fit a very decently sized extended family into this 'little' bed and breakfast) who came in to feed me a breakfast of oranges, cheese, preserves, fresh bread and yogurt. We spoke for quite some time, I have a feeling that I may be an annoyance to people (mostly that is my own fear speaking, of rejection, of lack of want - hell my family didn't really want me, why would strangers?), but at the same time she doesn't seem to mind. Politics, war, religion, history - all those things that I love. Education, and how to keep a populace controlled you keep them ignorant, or fairly ignorant, and give them bread and circus. Just like Nero said. (supposedly.) I wound up comparing the hardline political ideals of the States in some ways to that of North Korea, China and the Taliban. (She asked me why the whole thing with al-Quaida and the Taliban couldn't just be stopped, and I had to explain that much of it has to do with fear and ignorance. People want answers, they don't care if they're the wrong answers, they just want answers. Of ANY sort that will assuage their fear and uncertainties. From where will I go when I die to how will I feed myself and my children tomorrow, people have fear. The less educated they are, the less informed of different ways of coping with those fears - the easier it is for someone to come in and tell them that the answers are all in this little box. That is control, that is hard line politics and religion. Which is rampant everywhere in this world in one fashion or another. If it isn't politics, it's religion and vice versa.) But we got into a big talk about that, with lots of questions coming from both of us for the other's viewpoint.
In the States, sure I could have that conversation, but.... all I would hear would be either the GOP or Demi points of view, with little regard to world view or history. OR I would hear something about religion. And it would blow up into a whole huge argument. I'm neither Demi or GOP or Indipendant or whatever. While I agree more often with the Demis, I still feel that they're freakin' bleedin' heart liberals too often, not taking certain crimes and issues close enough to heart. But the GOP is a bunch of good ole'boys who want to keep people ignorant, so that they can come in and give the masses bread and circus.
Now, this rumination wasn't meant to turn into anything political, I was merely giving a recounting (of a very general sort) of what my Christmas day has held. There are no presents, excluding the trip to Ronda itself, there are no people (except the visit from Fleur), and for dinner, I shall be eating at a restaurant. At least that will be crowded probably, according to Fleur, that makes me happy. I like the sound of people, even if I'm not amongst them. It is a skill I've had to cultivate my whole life. Rarely am I in the crowd, usually outside of it, and so I learned quickly to appreciate the intricacies of looking in the window rather than being in the house so to speak.
Yesterday, Lidia again was one of the most kind people, she took me to her family's for a Christmas Eve lunch in San Pedro where I took the bus to Ronda in the evening. Her mother is lovely, and very welcoming, so is her father. I can see where Lidia gets much of her sweetness, she's had a wonderful home to grow up in, and to learn how to be herself and stand on her own two feet. Also met her two younger brothers, my, my, my is all I hafta say. Some serious eye-candy. Unfortunately I don't know much about their personalities, but I imagine with some age and experience they may become wonderful men. But that is to be seen. Being good looking can be a hindrance to personal skills and empathy for others sometimes.
So, so far? My Christmas is better than I expected it to be, but at the same time, it sorta sucks to be alone for yet another Christmas. That is not to say I would trade a single moment of the time here in Spain for all the company in the world. Unless it was with a nude Rain in a big fluffy bed snuggling. Or having a bushel of ninos of my own, a honey to help me with them, and a big assed mug of chai. But I have a few more years to get to that point.
For now I find satisfaction in gazing out over the mountains, shrouded in fog, knowing that I have to write some more, but feeling slightly stuck. Oh well, that's life. Oh, and wishing I had some milk for my coffee. Later I may trek out and see if any of the stores are open (probably none of them, but maybe one) to buy a little milk for coffee for later.