Bienvenido
Letting my mind wander and thoughts about Spain
A day well spent. A day that swims away when there is much to be done. I often find myself pondering the minds of the great storytellers, if their written voice flowed in the same cadences of their inner monologues, leashed to the paces of their mind. How does one find their voice? Living a life well lived?
In thinking about my own voice, I live through my experiences. I’m sitting here in Central Park it’s a majestic day. A perfect late spring day, where deep tones of green have sunken into satisfied leaves, inhaling huge swathes of carbon dioxide, the swarming heat and humidity of a July yet to arrive. The invisible pollen triggering a congested nose, the yearly cycle. The park alive on all fronts with pigeons sunbathing on the lawns, squirrels practicing their poses for the season of tricking tourists into giving them food, a worthy tradeoff for a photo-op. A romantic scene for a big-budget TV show filming under an arched wooden bridge in the park, drawing the awe of tourists and locals alike, who itch to catch a glimpse of a star. Adults in big, inflated bubble ball suits sprint at each other at full speed, colliding and flying in opposite directions in childlike exuberance. Little do they know that the one with a lower center of mass is almost certain to win the momentum game. Yet even less do they care, for they’re having a jolly time. Old men on the baseball field suited up in their unis with their baseball caps and proudly displayed team names, chew and spit sunflower seeds onto the field from the dugout while heckling the opposing teams pitcher, reliving their Cooperstown little league days in their not-that-serious-but-all-too-serious softball league.
As I wander through the park, I wonder how all these people are here right now, why they’re not stuck busting their ass away on a computer in the office, as I had expected on my return from Spain. I spent a week in Spain, in a little grey manual crossover, touring the Andalucian countryside in a mission to understand what it means to be a Spaniard. My travels brought me to the beautiful Moorish architecture lined the streets of Granada, a vibrant arts scene in Sevilla dotted with youthful laughter and music ringing through the narrow streets at night. A tranquil and sleepy hippie beach town called Conil de la Frontera where I found myself in a surfing lesson with friends I met at my hostel the night before. Incredibly friendly people, I found myself swept away in conversation each place I stopped.
However, as I settled into my trip, I felt that something was missing from life in these cities. Upon reflection, I realized that no one anywhere was seriously working, they just were chilling. The Spaniards sipping on beer and wine with platters of jamon and cheese tapas for finger food. They sit outside, talking with friends for all hours of the day from sunrise to far after sunset, nary an urgency to go to work or rush, but to enjoy their days. In New York, a day of work is a hustle, and even a day off is activities; learning, reading, writing, sports, art, observing. It’s a competition to better ourselves. What makes New Yorkers have such an energy though? It must be rooted in our desire to compete.
Competition is good. It’s natural. I’ve realized life in Spain is what a society looks like when little to no competition exists. With a low cost of living, ample resources for food and water, jobs, fewer issues with immigrants compared to neighboring states, outside of their famed football club rivalries, the Spaniards simply do not care to compete. Far from the peaks of the Spanish empire under King Philip II, the people are now content existing a living legacy rather than building a more impressive future. There isn’t enough motivation to hustle to survive that’s needed to bring about a purpose for existing, a passion for life. Competition pushes us to improve, and a desire to win is a powerful motivating force.
New York City, and America in general is no utopia like Spain. We deal with issues in our society at every level. Competition for jobs, expensive housing and food, high illegal immigration, America was built around inequality that we battle to overcome. However, this fierce competition to exist and survive, along with shared values of individuality and achieving one’s potential leads it to be the land of opportunity.
Spain has successfully protected its society from competition. This shadow of magic realism on the simplicities of life one might find in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, casts cities like Seville and Granada into a dream-like reality show. A well-functioning society, happy Spaniards exist in this sphere of clean, orange-tree lined streets, gorgeous and well-preserved historic buildings, little manual cars puttering around narrow city centers. But it’s a dream that ignores the struggles of the greater world, and in its identity, loses some of the fulfilment of living a challenging life along the way.