Did I ever tell you my commune story? I probably did. But I felt that being a great moment in my life, I should include it here for the whole world to see.
I lived in Madrid, Spain, for a little over three months of my life. While there, I lived with two families. The first of these was a short but harrowing experience. They had two young boys from the 9th circle of Hell, whom I had the pleasure of teaching English, and a housekeeper from Bolivia who really had it in for me. I didn't last long there. That's when I met the Serranos.
The Serranos are a family that lives in the south of Madrid, a little subdivision called Getafe. They are Hindu, to an extent, anyway. They are probably the only practicing vegetarians in the whole of Madrid. Well, my Senora, Teresa, was a semi-practicing vegetarian. (She used me as an excuse to eat meat while I lived with them. And while that makes an interesting anecdote in and of itself, that is not why I am writing today.) The first weekend I ever met the Serranos, I didn't speak much Spanish. And they didn't speak much English. When I left the Serranos after several months, I spoke more Spanish. I don't think they spoke more English. (Also not the point of my story.) Anyway, it is important that they did not speak English for this story, or at least it is important that I did not speak Spanish. Either way, the movie “Lost in Translation” totally applies to the scenario which is about to unfold.
The first weekend we met, they invited me to “el campo”, which to me, sounded like going camping, but upon consultation with a friend of mine more practiced in Spanish than myself, I discovered the meaning to be “the country side” which I thought most likely to be one of the surrounding towns around Madrid. Going to visit the
abuelos or something… Never mind that when I tried to ask more about it that they mentioned things like “hay” and “mud” which didn’t clarify anything for me.
So, the morning of the adventure dawns, and we awake
with that dawn, and pile into the car (which is really more like a sardine can mounted on wheels) and head off into the Spanish unknown. And the happy Spanish people continue to chatter away for hours and hours and we drive and drive into the mountains in the north, and the roads get bumpier and bumpier, and my ass gets sorer and sorer… Until finally we are on a dirt road driving over rocks, fallen tree limbs, and yes, fence posts, in the sardine can on wheels. The first people we have seen in miles appear to our left in front of a house, and as we approach, I notice something quite intriguing about these people.
But, to find out what that is, you will have to return to my blog to read the next installment in this saga, as I am tired of typing now.
Hasta Pronto!