good night

Last evening I was meant to meet up with I. and R. for their last night in the village before leaving early this morning for the airport. In the end, we missed one another, but as can happen in this village, the night took on a life of its own, and a delightful one indeed. I took the pups with me for they have embraced the cafe lifestyle. Perico's was a sea of abandoned tables, although inside the village "mafia" had crowded around two tables to play cards. However, there was not an empty chair at the new tapas bar next door. I stopped briefly to speak with U., who I had not seen in ages. We then spotted M.A. sitting below the square at the old Loro's, now called Oscar's. Figuring she was also looking for I. and R., I gathered up the dogs, who had already settled themselves under a table, and went to chat with M.A. I grabbed a free chair and ordered a glass of wine. It was a perfect night for the first outdoor meal of the season, and it seemed everyone in the village felt precisely the same way because a constant stream of friends passed by in the coming hours. First, C. appeared. The pups spotted their substitute caretaker ages before I did. They just adore him. C. had a meeting inside the bar, so he only greeted the dogs briefly. They then sat side by side, staring into Oscar's, for at least forty minutes. A woman at the next table asked if the dogs were waiting for tapas; no, I said, they are just waiting for C. M.A. and I decided to have a light dinner at the lonely Perico's. M.A. had a hankering for their homemade pate, so I eventually convinced the pups to give up their vigil for C. and off we went back to the square. The evening air just could not have been more pleasant....about 75 F, light breeze, no jacket or sweater required. Everything seemed right with the world. An English couple and their eight-ish son dined at the table next to us. They kept Mr. Beebs entertained by treating him with the leftover bits of their fish platters. Precious Boo quickly fell asleep under my chair and didn't stir until it was time to head home. More people passed by....first Danish C., a true village character. His standard greeting on the street is "I have some really good pot, want to smoke?" "No, thanks, C." is my standard reply. He's I guess in his early 60s, very Willie Nelson-type appearance, and never without his hat, which has an old snake skin tied around it. Mr. Beebs, however, does not like hats, so he started barking as old C. approached the table. I explained to C. my silly dog's disapproval of the hat, and he obligingly removed it. C. fancies himself an aged hipster, too cool to hang out on the square (which is "for richies"). But he still carries a bit of a torch for M.A., who he tried to lure back to his place with promises of osso bucco (he showed us the meat he had just bought) and a look at the new etching he recently purchased. M.A., however, was more than content with her pate, so after his glass of sherry, C. set off home alone. Just as we were finishing our dinners (I had salad with avocado), our friend D. stopped by and bought us a glass of wine and sat for a chat. By 11, most of the old Spanish men had collected their card winnings and headed home, and Loli, the only waitress working, busied herself by collecting the seat cushions. As lovely as it would have been to stay out into the wee hours, breathing in the gorgeous spring air, I knew I had some editing work to do today and that the pups were soon ready for bed. Reluctantly M.A. and I said our good-byes, and the dogs, sans leads, happily chased each other all the way home. Today is an equally gorgeous day. With the high temp approaching 80 F, I traded my normal uniform of jeans for black cropped pants, the turtleneck for a three-quarter arm V-neck, and my socks and shoes for sandals. And boy, does it feel good! The windows are all open, the curtains flapping in the breeze. A happy day here in the village. Hope the same is true wherever you are. :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain