As with all things living and dead, as I might fabricate our good alchemical Jung mused once upon a tower in the countryside or upon a pipe stroll, the first number is two. This is exactly where naive Huckleberry finds himself strolling through dreamscapes sewn in spanish, friendships in routine places, meeting acquaintances at every turn, recieving undeserved hospitality and generous gifts from those who already pay him a fee. One savours new comprehension of the synthetic word ‘delite-full’ when receiving such gravy and spoils.
Now, we have all been there, The Bank, a place that urges compulsory gastrophenomena of the other kind. But, sometimes the frase, “it’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with” catches you off guard and, possibly, deafeningly ignorant. Upon setting up a bank account here, Huck looked in the windows like a young child at christmas window shopping in Paris. You know, the mechanical puppet shows with toys strewn about the decorative splendor of solstice jolity? Well after scooting humbily by some of the more..technical puppet displays he chanced upon a small office, no doubt with the backing of a huge nationalized institution, but a small office nonetheless with just a few staff.
“Here we are”, he thinks, unsure of himself. After introducing himself like an applicant for immigration – with all sorts of bureaucratic papery and administrative folder stuffing – the kind staff help him set up an account. They also help him talk randomly about his family, where he’s from, how he’s getting along with city life after living in the expansive countryside of the United Middle of Where? of America, what kind of food he’s used to eating, has he made any friends yet? don’t worry son – if you have any problems, let me know!, what are you doing here anyway? assisting teachers? ah, I sure hope you can handle the students and all, o and by the way could you sign this before you go? which actually continues on into every time he walks into the bank. At this point, he feels like a rude son of a bickering numbskull if he walks in and, first, walks over to the atm to pull out cash. Indeed, going to the bank at this point even has it’s financial benefits, as well as the otherwise quite common expectation that mutually beneficial socializing will occur. In every language of the modern day, he expects to find some phrase that means, ‘time is money’ or ‘tiempo es oro’. However, a priority of wealth in friendship is the other side of the exceptionallysocialspain-coin that puts Huck in the bonus, plus, ultra, maximum.
For example, about every week Huckleberry tutors 3 children of a family here in Cáceres. Every time he goes there, the parents ask him how he’s doing – what he’s been up to – <didn’t you think the medieval fair was a bit cheesy?> <oohh don’t be so hard hubby, it’s fun for the kids!> <I know but, seriously, kebab at a medieval fair? a potato bar? anyway, would you like to come out to the country with our family someday? see the vineyards? we have tons of olive trees!> <eeeh but don’t try and get him to help harvest them!> – they even give him medication, food…food.. glorious food!!! yes, Being ..bieng..being? Yes, being paid in euro’s is certainly expected of tutoring, but to know that someone has your back and is watching out for you in a foreign environment is another sort of wealth. Might we also consider, fine friends, that Huckleberry’s tummy has softened slightly thanks to the 500grams of dried figs they delivered upon his starving stomach and let’s not omit that they also sent him away with a whole bunch of aceitunas rajadas. These olives are cut along the sides and steeped in salts, spices, laurel, garlic, pepper and probably other sorts of magic craftsmanship – depending on the household. At times, there is no greater gift than food and friendship as Good Ebeneezer Scrooge will tell you.
Even his local coffee shop barista throws an little extra food-drink something who knows! and inquires how things are going – all of this despite how incredibly foul and terrible Huckleberry’s american accent sounds in spanish. All things considered, quite the deal. Quite the deal. Considering how much he mumbles in English, or how soft he speaks, it’s unfathomable that they understand him at all.
In fact, all of these things are re-encounters. The other 90% of these social phenomena reside above the capability of my narrative powers, we shall lament. Yet, let it be known that these happenings are reminiscent of the first time he came to Spain four years ago. There is so much re-introducing. Good morning, peculiar watercolorbarktree that decided to burst yellow the second week of November. Good day, group of people yelling with glee in the morning at the cafe-bar. Good merienda my fellow tapeando blue collared folk before you go home for the ..great Scott, a good siesta to you you natural beauty you. Good afternoon 6pm, and your brilliant mediterranean/atlantic blue autumn skies. Good evening families, all of you from ages 0 to infinity walking about the streets before and after dinner. Good night socializing with generous/gracious friends who aren’t snooty or picky about where they go or what they do. Good midnight, second round of cañas and sleep well earth that smells so exceptionally different, so far away from home.
