A day of mine

A little reason to love Spain.


Today I woke, and after a meditation, a good bunch of slow laps in the mountain-reflected pool, and a good morning breakfast for the guests, I got a ride into town. Its good to get to town after being a little holed up at La Serrania, and I am joyed by seeing people, even in the calm of siesta afternoon, shopkeepers sitting curbside, mostly old men, gossiping, watching the afternoon roll into the hottest part of the day.
So, I hurried up the towering mountain that hangs over Pollenca town, a rocky and steep climb, a winding and slippery cobbled path. And in the heat of the afternoon, getting a little sunburnt, the town sat sleepily below me, hanging in the suspension of the Spanish day, the compulsory pause, the natural post-feed rest, the slump. Up on the Puig de Maria, which seemed to be totally deserted, was a rambling old stone monastery, all Spanish charm with swaying sea-breeze poplars and those cone shaped trees, and acorn strewn grounds, wild goats and their babies, all bearded and nimble, scrambling from the paths. And rocky sandy buildings, all cool and shaded inside, a quiet little church, with that stained-glass light play thrown around in colourful peace. And lofty presbitary spaces, and lookouts, and crumbling walled gardens, all terracotta-potted, with ancient wells and olive trees. Oh the peace and charm of this mountain top reverie! In that space in the afternoon where time stops, and me, book in lap, legs resting on the rounded curve of a tumbled pot, back against the sandstoned brick of an ancient hand-worked wall, above me an open window, a cat, and a view over the light drenched horizon. Those faded colours of distant mountains, light and sea spray, shading them dull and far. And the resting towns below and beyond, all adding to my sweet Spanish afternoon. I got hot, those white legs getting pinkish and I retired under a light dappling oak, watching the goats and pigeons, reading.
I meandered down after a few hours, and a good meditate in the silent, warm chuch. Back to town and its on! Fruit baskets pushed back to the streets and cafes a-buzzing yet again, and children return with their unifroms and books from school and the town has woken up and so have I and I wonder if the mountainous reverie stays up there, suspended in glistening peace. Im going back tomorrow! RX