A view of Rincon de la Victoria, my city, from a hike
I am reflecting on mornings because of how much I have come to love them here. Mornings hold the anticipation of the countless little adventures I will encounter that day with my life here. If you know me, you know that I strive to find my own adventures no matter where I live everyday, whether it's venturing to a farmer's market or finding a new running path that I have no idea where I will end up. However, living in Spain makes that a little easier.
I thought it might be interesting to read about an average day in the life of MacKenzie here. As in teacher MacKenzie (what my kids call me) on a weekday. Probably not. But just in case, you can keep on reading.
Wake up at 8 angry at my alarm for going off again. Remind myself that I'll be able to take a nap when I get home during siesta time. Walk to the window of the living room or balcony, check out the sunrise over the Mediterranean. Bumble to the bathroom to attempt to make myself look descent. Raid Liz's closet for some article of clothing. Get dressed/organize my teaching materials for the day/listen to music/drink espresso if I or Courtney were ambitious enough to make some. Attempt to leave the house by 8:50 to catch the bus at the bus stop just down the road. This includes a walk past the taxi drivers that line their cars up in the morning. I've never actually seen them drive away with a person in the car but they line up there, and they creepily check me out as I walk to the bus stop. I used to dread this part of my walk, but I almost got hit by a car crossing the pedestrian crosswalk the other day right by them, and they all got completely protective and were up in arms swearing at the driver, assuring me it was their fault and that the driver had no right to honk at me.
Then I sit on a bench for about twenty minutes waiting for my bus. I eat whatever piece of fruit I choose to have for breakfast that day. Today it was a banana. Sometimes it comes early, sometimes it's late, but I have an amazing time people watching and listening to my Ipod. First there is a Spanish man with long hair that drops off his trash across from the stop and continues on his way. Then there is a dog. Now this one I'm still curious about. He has no owner, but he walks himself down the sidewalk on the street at the same time of the morning 3 out of the 4 mornings I wait there at this time. He even walked across the street using the pedestrian crosswalk today. Seriously people, no owner. I have gotten out of my seat to look around trees or other possible obstacles, but nothing. No one. My jaw dropped when he used the crosswalk and I of course laughed out loud, looking around to see if anyone else found this as amusing as me. Nope. Oh well. I'm just a freak that laughs to herself at Spanish bus stops I guess.
The same buses come in the same order and the same people get on each one. There is a woman who tends to wear an outfit two days in a row that gets on her bus about 5 minutes before mine comes. I especially enjoy a mom that brings two boys of about 16, both autistic, to the bus stop every morning. They are so excited to get on the bus, and the son of the mom is always helping the mom walk and get on and off the bus. It's touching because you can tell that they both give back to one another so much. It's amazing how no matter where you go, the routines of transportation, the schedule of people, always exists. These strangers become a comforting part of your schedule to see. While conversations are usually non-existent with these people, they become part of your daily life, something you can count on. When they're not there, it's hard not to wonder, to worry, about people you have never shared a single word with.
My actual bus ride consists of me putting on my "Spain bus" playlist (actually it's spelled Spain bud because I spelled it incorrectly in Itunes and am still too lazy to change it) which is chalk full of easy listening songs to doze off to. I look out the window and nod in and out of consciousness, looking at the Mediterranean, hoping I don't fall into too deep of sleep that I miss my stop in 40 minutes.
Then I get off, walk in my path along the main avenue of Velez, looking at the foothills, mountains and palace in the small mountain town off in the distance. This includes a walk past a coffee shop, packed full of men and Spanish policemen drinking shots of espresso, yelling in their Andalucian Spanish, all gloriously not working. Then I walk past the coffee shop I stop in for coffee at when I have extra time, a wave from the women who work there, and turned Spaniards on their stools gawking at the weird American that walks past their coffee shop in the morning.
INSERT SCHOOL HERE
After arriving home in the heat of the afternoon, which greatly differs from the morning chill that is present in the mountain town of Velez, I make myself lunch around 2:30 p.m., which is when everyone eats lunch here. This usually consists of something combined with tomatoes in olive oil and balsamic. Then I bumble down to the beach below our piso. I bring my beach blanket and reading material, although I usually don't actually read. That's because this is my favorite time of the day. After a nice lunch, I doze off on the beach, pushing everything out of my mind except the sound of the waves of the sea crashing on the shore next to me.
I'm usually awaken by Liz or Courtney as they join me for a couple of hours of relaxation on the beach. Don't worry though, I now have to go back to work, completing lesson plans and then giving private English lessons in the evening, followed by a sunset run along the shore or some sort of physical activity. Possibly a trip to the fruteria to buy fresh veggies or fruit, and let's be honest, a trip to a convenience store to buy a bottle of wine.
And that's it. That is my average day. We'll see if it gets old.
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