a little glimpse.

it's been difficult for me to conjure up the words to recount to you what life is like here. i want to tell you, i want you to see it, i want you to smell it and feel it and live it. i want you to smell the ocean and walk on cobblestones and drink cruz campo and take the autobús and look at the cathedral and discover the plazas and barter at the markets. i want the hot spanish sun on your face and the accustomed dripping sweat running down your back. i want you to see this with me. i want you to know what i feel everyday. but putting it into words? now there is an epic task. so i needed to settle in a bit, saturate myself, before passing on the beauty that is this place. of course this in turn meant leaving you hanging for weeks on end about what life could be like. it's just... every day i am astounded. every day my breath is taken away. every day i am dumbfounded by this place. and yet, it is so natural. it feels so right. it feels so normal. and that, my friends, is the most beautiful of all. 

i am sitting now in my favorite plaza of the city: La Plaza de la Catedral. it's tucked away, bordering the beach, shaded, cool, and lovely. right now it is full of children running and chasing pigeons; full of people eating tapas and drinking beer. i sit on the stairs, listening to the flemenco guitarist pouring his soul into his music, watching lovers revel in one another's presence, feeling the air that has become so natural to me. palm trees line the plaza, and right now the sun is setting that last golden blanket of the day. 

i live in a city where there are five buses. but don't worry if you get on the wrong one, because none of those five leave the city. they go up and down the thin line that is cádiz, back and forth. or if the bus doesn't interest you, walking is no trouble (especially with new spanish sandals, thank you). you can walk along the beach the whole way. if you take this way, you get to walk by a wood-working shop and the smell of fresh cut wood pierces in just the right way. or, if you prefer, cut into the old part of town where the buildings touch one another like they've always belonged, like nothing can infringe on their strong bond, like nothing has or ever will look past them. they tease you, they stop and start and make you get lost. but don't worry, you'll find your way eventually. 

i live in a city where the nightlife begins at three am. don't try to go out between midnight (when the tapas bars close) and three am (when the bars open), unless you want to be the only ones out and about-- fucking americans, getting their times all mixed up. and don't worry about being tired, a stigma or a judgment about sleeping the day away does not exist. you can siesta from timbuck one to timbuck two. now that is my kind of life. :) 

i live in a city where respect for children and respect for the elderly are on the same level. you would give up your seat for that dearest grandmother, and here you would give up your seat for that dearest child. for they, too, deserve to be respected and adored and admired and given freedom and the ability to imagine and laugh and have their own seat on the bus. 

i live in a city where everybody drives motos (mopeds, only a bit bigger). where the streets would barely fit a normal car. where you are undeniably cool if you have your lip pierced with a stud. where your dog uses the services of the sidewalk. where little kids are up later than i am. where you dry your laundry outside on lines. where there is history. where everybody is proud. where there is passion in music and dancing and living. where the food is amazing. where you can buy a glass of beer for one euro. where everybody buys beer for one euro. or a bottle of wine? two euros. where people hurl insults at eachother and have never meant so much love with it. where things are safe. where things are good. 

and thus far, after two weeks, i can undeniably say that this place is great. it is wonderful. it is rich in culture. i needed to become saturated before i could recount these things to you. for even in my voice of writing, even in the words that i type, i feel as though things come up short. but i hope you now have a glimpse into life here in spain, here in cádiz, here in "the city that laughs." 

i want you to feel this.