Spain Dad, a baby blog

Yesterday morning I was working in my office at home and decided to take a break for a few minutes. I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and meandered out onto one of our balconies that looks out over the city center of Castellón.

Nearly everyone in the city had the day off to celebrate the Fiestas de la Virgen de Agosto. For one reason or another, the entire country observes this holiday, and except for a few extranjeros like myself, no one works. Most people in cities leave for the day.

Leaning over the railing of the balcony and sipping my glass of water, I took in the city. The shutters were pulled in the windows of the apartment buildings on the street below. The street itself was empty like a dry riverbed. The church bells hung silently in their steeples. The city was a vacuum–like I was staring at a photograph, a copy of the real thing.

In contrast, the birds playfully swooped in and around the buildings, swirling around and around, as if to bring some unseen symphony of nature to a climax. Their songs, which every day are drowned out by the gravely hum of cement mixers and the clanging of rerod from the construction workers across the street, were now the soundtrack to the city. Today the birds were giving life to this place, and those of us left in the city watched as a little bit of the natural way of things returned.

Many storeowners take rest seriously in August. Just before they pull the garage door down in front of their store and lock it, they tape a piece of paper to the inside of their front window and write on it in marker, “Cerrado for vacaciones hasta el 31 de agosto.” (Closed for vacation until August 31st.) Then they leave for a month.

Some of my Spanish friends tell me it’s not the way it used to be. Ten years ago no one worked in August. Now some do. Still, for me, I see the difference. I see a country at rest.

The mentality people have is that if I don’t work in August, I’m not going to make anyone else either. People think about their neighbors, and they give them permission to rest. They want their neighbors to enjoy time off too.

Of course that means people have to make sacrifices. The fruit shop is closed. The restaurant is closed. The clothing store is closed. You have to make do with what you have. But you do it because you know that everyone deserves a break sometimes.

I say these things. I say I value them. But I worked yesterday. I worked a full day and then some. I have a lot to learn from my friends in Spain. My hope is that my daughter will learn from them too.