Displacement

Last night I was writing an email to the sound of bagpipes coming from somewhere outside and it all seemed very natural until I thought, hey I don’t live in Scotland anymore! Weird how this kind of thing happens to me frequently. Out of place faces, sounds and sights. A sure sign of a nomad if there ever was one.

One

I swam one kilometre today –without stopping. I realise that this sounds pitiful in the aftermath of the olympics, but it was a first for me. I started swimming regularly a few weeks ago and on my first try I managed only 300 metres. It’s not a competition though. I like to swim. Apart from hiking, it’s the only endurance sport I enjoy. I’m not sure what happened today, but I just wasn’t getting tired. I started off thinking quietly earthshattering thoughts but around the tenth lap there was just the one: ‘just keep going, even if you don’t feel anything’. The specific wording came out of the blue, but it was a perfect metaphor for the rest of my life. With this insight in mind I slowly swam my forty laps. I could have continued even after that –I really don’t know what hit me– but luckily I had the good sense not to. When I got out of the pool my muscles felt good, but definitely used. Let’s hope I can get out of bed in the morning…

Early Morning Beach Walk Bafflement

It’s Sunday, which means masses of people on the beach. But it’s not so bad in the morning. The tourists are still sleeping off the previous night’s excesses, and only the locals are out there. Some joggers, and some older people. They arrive in couples or in groups, carrying folding chairs, ice boxes and parasols, and look around for a good spot to spend the day. And then they change, and hit you with it: The Bikini.

Am I being ridiculous, or is there something very wrong with an old lady (I’m talking 60 plus) wearing a bikini? I should add –in case you’re having trouble picturing it– that these women aren’t exactly Twiggies, or Audrey Hepburn in her sixties. They’re normal, shall we say curvy Spanish women who’ve had babies and operations. Who’ve lived, basically. The bikinis are either plain and bright or animal print, the straps frequently pulled down and tucked under their armpits. Or, just as frequently, the top is done away with altogether. And, trust me, you don’t even want to picture that. (Mean of me? Yeah, maybe a little. But, given the size of my own breasts, I’m quite confident they’ll never make contact with my knees. Not even if I attach ten pound weights to them. So I figure I’m in the clear).

Anyway. Apart from wondering whether or not it’s wrong, I walked along wondering why. Do they want to avoid strap marks? Why is that? It’s not as if they’ll be wearing a strapless mini dress tonight (I don’t think). Or do they want to feel the sun on their skin? I can get that, even though I’m not a sun-on-skin person myself. But is it vital to feel it on every part of their bodies? What’s wrong with a pair of shorts? Bizarrely enough, I don’t have a problem with a bathing suit for swimming. In fact, in that instance I think they’re pretty cute. Maybe because then I can see the reason for wearing one. It all comes down to different strokes for different folks again, I guess. But I wonder if Audrey would have been caught wearing a bikini in her old age…

Sounds/Someplace

There’s the construction work which, as I’ve mentioned before, is never ending (though the ones downstairs, bless them, have finally packed up their tool kits and disappeared). The two stroke engine scooters zooming past at all hours of the day. The only man I know of still walking the streets selling fruit. He sticks to one kind per season and just yells, trying to entice housewives to run downstairs and buy some. Right now it’s ‘melones’, in winter ‘naranja, mandarinas’. The TV and radio programmes cranked up to the highest volume possible. Even though I don’t own either myself, I’ve started to recognise certain commercial ditties. One of them uses some bars of ‘The final Countdown’ which never fails to remind me of my brother, his friend S. and me pretending to be Europe. S. owned a keyboard so he looked the coolest of the three. I was responsible for ‘drums’ –a cookie tin and a pair of chopsticks. I wasn’t allowed to make contact with the tin though, my brother’s orders. I had to pretend or I’d ruin the song, he said. Personally I thought that was kind of daft, but not as daft as him playing guitar on an old tennis racket. Also I loved the opportunity to play with the boys, so I shut up and did as he said.

Lots of sounds (*cough* noise) in Spain, always. Some of it you get used to, but I have to say I like my peace and quiet. It’s not at all the main reason –though it probably played a part in the decision making process– but I think I’ll be moving on again soon. My lease is up in January, a good time of year for a change of scene. There are one or two options but I haven’t decided on the where yet. I’ll wait and see what the next few months bring.

I think it’s just me, moving. I’ve got used to the nomadic lifestyle and I wonder if I’ll ever settle down anywhere. I’m going to have to at some point, because I really want a cat (only half kidding here). I enjoy the clean slate, I think. I can’t help but think of Cassandra Wilson though: Everybody wants to get away to someplace/get away from themselves/I got a feeling that when they find that someplace/ they’ll want to go someplace else. I know. I really do. But I don’t know how else to cope yet. So once again I’ll be off into the sunset. To a place where I can sleep without earplugs, this time.

Haiku

The last book I read (see previous post) got me thinking a lot about haiku. I thought I’d post a few I like.

Here are two by Basho and Issa, two Japanese master poets of the 17th and 18th century. I’ll put the English translations because, as far as I know, no Japanese people read my blog (boohoo).

Frozen in the night
the water jar cracks
–wakes me
(Basho)

Don’t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually
(Issa)

And here are two English contemporary ones. I have no idea who wrote them, but I love them all the same.

Watching my daughter
watching her daughter
washing her doll’s white socks

I went to the zoo
but all they had was a dog
–it was a Shitzu