la tarde

today: is busy.

i have homework. and of course, i'm nervous about it. but i suppose i shouldn't complain, as it's my first assignment of the summer.

before i begin, i relax. of course. because procrastination is my master. class is over for the afternoon, so i head outside, bag over shoulder, nectarine in hand. it's 11:40am.

the streets are finally busy. the weekend was quiet, a siesta larga. but now it's back to "work". i step into spots of scorching sun and soothing shadow as i manage the now familiar narrow streets. the cobblestones accomodate me. we're pals. i can turn twisty corners without looking, and have learned to listen for the teeny cars that take up the roadway when they pass. toledo is a small small world.

as on most weekdays, there are people on corners with tickets hanging round their necks, for sale. they wear hats and sunglasses. i don't know what the tickets are for, but i assume they are touristy in nature. they don't bother anyone. i watch for the occasional accordian player, but he's not yet out today. maybe soon--his jaunty notes fit this place so well.

as i walk, i catch moments of conversations and words i recognize. i try hard to eavesdrop when i stroll...i think i am improving. when i bump into people (often), "perdona" slips easily from my mouth. this is one thing (be it small) that i am proud of--not having to think before saying certain things.

store owners smoke lazily in their doorways, and greet you solemnly when you enter inside. their windows are filled with glinting swords (toledo's pride) and amber jewelry, leather bags and crappy jewelry, molded marzipan and wooden jewelry. some people lay out goods on blankets. there are LOADS of shoe stores too. it's typical. but comforting. i know this place a little now.

i end at the Plaza Zocodover, the city's medieval market spot, where there's a arch called La Puerta de Sangre (as it was once a place for hanging delinquents). the plazas are my favorite. mostly because they are natural meeting places, and ebbs in the city's steady tide. for older people, especially. they watch me as i pass through, because that's what people do when they're relaxing. sometimes friends come to sit with them. other times they call to aquaintances passing by: "has luego, bonita". though their faces are indecipherable, i imagine they're content.

no, i'm sure of it.