I am tired. I am back in Spain, jet-lagged from here to Alaska, blissed out on the love of family and friends, but totally, completely to-the-bone tired.
And yet somehow, playing outside my window at 8:40 p.m. on a Monday night is a marching band. Tubas, drums, the whole thing. Every night for the past three weeks. Heaven only know what they are doing out there. How festive do they feel that they need to play every night? Outside my window? For no apparent reason?
If you have any answers to the riddle, by all means let me know. I'll be the one sleeping with earplugs in.
I don't know where the energy comes from (okay, maybe from the lax work week, the perpetual holidays, and the daily siestas), but I had a Spanish-style block party outside of my apartment window around this same time last year. It was 5 straight nights of eating, drinking, dancing, drumming, parading, fire-jumping, and stereo speakers pounding until 6 or 7 the next morning. Our whole little town, an hour north of Córdoba, came out to sit on my front stoop. Literally.
ReplyDeleteSo, do you think you´ll have time for an ode to Spanish-style shopping before you go? El Cortes Inglés? La Mercadona, Supermercado de Confianza? ^^
Ryan W.
I can totally picture that block party! Ha.
ReplyDeleteSpanish-style shopping is such a good idea! I'm pretty sure Mercadona will have to be the star...I'll get on that.