Spanish Sun

I now understand where the Spanish Siesta comes from….. before, I just assumed “taking naps” after lunch was an expression of their laid back culture; however as I now live in Spain, in July, I fully appreciate and absolutely agree with the need for a Spanish siesta…the product of a cultures adaptation.

It actually took me a “long while” to get use to the fact that in the small villages almost all closes down from 1pm-5pm. No post office, no grocery store..or any store, most tourist information centers- closed, no pharmacy or doctors appointments, the streets become barren, the crowds leave the beach-(well except for the tourists)…all seemingly frozen in time-except for the local bar and maybe a restaurant serving a cooling coffee with ice; Spanish cold gazpacho soup made from tomatoes, peppers, onion; or my favorite “Clara” , a lemonade soda/ beer combo that is more lemon than beer and tastes even better if served in a perron, a traditional, yet messy way to share a beer.

I made my first mistake the other day, when planning an afternoon bike ride. I remember the rational behind my timing.. “I will go after lunch when everyone is at home eating lunch and taking a siesta…less cars on the road.” I planned on 60km, within 15 minutes my plans changed and it became 40km.

Another hour and a half later, I still had not made the first 20km to my first destination city, both of my water bottles were empty, and you can say I was not enjoying my bicycle. Two hours after I first started, I found myself only cycling 25k in two hours (did I mention it was up and down a mountain), a route previously done in almost half the time. I then found myself on the train not on my bicycle, returning to the village.

Did I mention the climbers of this village do not even attempt a climb in the sun? Well..that is unless you count the other day.

Ruben and I’s dilly dallying/ poor planning resulted in a 3 ½ climb up a 120 meter wall,

in the sun, that resulted in unwanted obstacles such as sweating slippery rocks, my burning feet due to black climbing shoes absorbing the rays of the sun, lack of water leaving me with pickled looking lips, and I got to see a“real Spanish drama” about how hot it actually was.

Actually, I am told this summer is unusual. Rain brings a fresh breeze and keeps the land near the mountains of Montesrratt a green hugh

that is always re-realized as I reach another top

and the vallys of the Peryness are full of spring flours.

The river fed pozas or swimming-holes are filled with running water that pools to cool the local inhabitants that would rather not pay to enter the village swimming pool.

Then there is the other extreme of "fresh" snow melt rivers that bring pain to the body

and besides my feet, out of all ruben's family and friends; he was the only one "brave" enough after a hike to try a swim at the destination waterfall. This place is where we visit his father and brother;

at the same summer camp in the Peryness where Ruben as a child spent weeks out of a summer forming a love of the mountains.

Then, there are times it even seems I could be living in a jungle,

or living in a film about some northern european country that was more about yodoling and not flamingo.

The same rain that brings Spain color, almost spoiled an afternoon walk with Ruben’s mother, Slyvia and Amadore.

Neverthless, even with the unusually fresh and wet summer; there are always moments you need to escape the Spanish sun and enjoy a fresh glass of Gazpacho or clara, or a after lunch siesta when you want to do nothing else... but lay around in front of a fan.

Amor xoxoxoxo