En la piscina

Today we decide to take a break from getting stuff done and take the kids to the pool. We went to the pool in Casa de Campo – an enormous park on the east side of the city that used to be royal hunting grounds until the 1930s. During the Civil War Franco used the area as a strong hold. Now, it’s a massive public natural resource.

I guess I was a little concerned that we’d find a dumpy, dirty, crowded pool. Instead, we find three beautiful crystal clear pools that aren’t very crowded at all. They are absolutely delightful – it’s like a park within the pool area. This could definitely be a regular destination for us – especially in the notorious August heat.

This is the most civilized public pool I’ve ever seen, in fact. In addition to the three outdoor and one indoor pool, there is a little outside library from which you can check out reading material during your visit and decent selection food and drink at the café.

Observations:
- If you’ve got a great looking body and a tight, flesh colored swim suit, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination…wait, maybe that’s not a swim suit he’s wearing, it’s just his pale butt.
- We have swim suits on that cover more flesh than most of the other bathers. I’ve taken to wearing “boy short” swim bottoms recently with my bikini top. I look ridiculous among this crowd of thong bikini bottoms. A real prude. Alex is the only person in this whole place with a swim shirt on. Almost makes him look like a religious conservative next to the rest of the crowd.
- This is the kids’ first exposure to toplessness. They seem pretty nonplussed.
- Generally people are a lot thinner here.
- The generally handsome physiques and lack of clothing make for nice P.W. (Alex and Mom code for people watching). Which is, of course, the point.
- The better the body, the less flesh covered. Especially for the men. Few of the women have much covered regardless of physique.

Keywords to learn today: la piscina = pool, climatizado = heated (or air conditioned in another context), nadar = to swim, socorrista = lifeguard.

I’ve often wondered in the US why some immigrants don’t try harder to integrate and blend in. However, in England as an exchange student, I was always somewhat uncomfortable in my own skin because I was always an outsider, regardless of how much I attempted to blend in. I didn’t want to be prejudged as an American. But to some extent, it’s not possible to just blend in for most people. Your skin, hair, glasses, clothes, accent, personal space, smell – and stuff that you’re completely unaware of – all give you away. It’s just more or less for any given person. But ultimately, to be an American does not mean to be an ugly American. So, the hell with it. I’m just going to wear my baseball cap and Keens and shorts and have Americano written all over myself. As Harriet M Welch says, “Anyway, don’t think about it.”

The big meal of the day is midday here – sort of like lunch but later – like 2-4 pm. Then in the late evening folks have a very light meal – kind of snacking. I didn’t really think we’d readily adopt this schedule. But it’s absolutely natural. For one thing, the heat makes it the only desirable plan. Ysabel told us that the Spanish clock is two hours off of the sun time. I didn’t understand what she meant until yesterday when I looked up at 2pm and the sun was straight up (high noon). Now I see what she means. We feel like it’s 5:30 pm by the sun when it’s 7:30 pm. This is why we’re having such a hard time adjusting to the time. We’re used to being tired a couple hours after dark, but here that means it’s really late. So we’ve been going to bed around 1 am and getting up late. But what’s late on the clock (10-11:00 am) is really about 8 – 9:00 am by the sun, which isn’t so bad. So, I’ve decided to stop worrying about it.

We decided to have that lunchy/dinnery meal at the pool at about 5 today. We had a heck of a time figuring the system out and it pushed us from stressed to grumpy status. Really grumpy. At this point, Jack usually takes over the ordering. For some reason this is particularly difficult for me. Asking for directions, no sweat. But ordering food can drive me over the edge. Jack gets a plate of pasta, and the guy says “blah, blah, blah” to Jack as he hands him his dish. Jack smiles and says “gracias” with great confidence and walks away. “What did he say?” I ask. And cool as a cucumber he says, “No idea” and walks to the table only to realize that he has an inedible cold pasta dish. I am in tears laughing. This usually freaks out the rest of the family when I lose control like this. It’s my release after utter embarrassment or frustration. All at once Jack jumps up with understanding and warms his pasta up in a microwave. After the gafaws, I bribe Anna with a 1 Euro reward if she’ll go order a drink for herself.

These are little moments, but collectively what this whole thing is like. Not knowing the system, not knowing the language, not knowing…..

There is the fantasy that you go to a foreign country, especially France or Spain, and with no effort eat wonderful meals and have a glorious time. It’s not that way. Food is damn hard. Much of the time you get a crappy meal and are exhausted in the getting, so you don’t even care because you just have to eat something. I'm just hoping that I lose weight this way. But I don’t notice any clothes fitting better yet. I can hope.