meteoros and murcielagos

Last night Big Jim and I ate our dinner by candlelight on the roof terrace. (We almost always eat our evening meal there during the summer months, simply because it's cooler than in the house.) Big Jim, amateur astronomer, was anxiously awaiting the first night of the Perseid meteor shower. Earlier, he had tried to explain in his best Spanglish the significance of the evening's light show to Antonio and the Herb Thief's husband, but they appeared to be half-soaked after a day of wine testing for Sunday's festival. At 10:50 we spotted the first, and it was impressive. It shot up into the sky with a long trail that was visible for a good 4 seconds or so. And then we waited. And waited. Forty minutes passed and nothing. I confess this is where astronomy loses me; I just don't have the patience. We spent the time watching a hard-working gecko stalk insects for his dinner and counting the many bats that swooped overhead. I sat trying to remember the Spanish word for "bat" when the image of a paper haunted house tacked to a bulletin board in my eighth grade classroom popped into my head. "Murcielago," I said to Big Jim. "I'm pretty sure it's 'murcielago'." I ran downstairs to the office to check the dictionary. I was right. Since I've been in Spain, I have had this experience countless times, when words I've had buried in a cobweb-covered recess of my brain for 20 years or more suddenly come to me. At 12:30 I was dozing and went off to bed. Big Jim stayed up until 3:00 and was rewarded with more meteors as the night deepened. After last night's disappointment, I haven't completely given up stargazing. We plan to watch again tonight. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain