Saturday.
Uh… wake up at 12.25… I really needed to rest.
Still in bed, feeling pretty drained. I think I’ve slept too much… (Can you feel tired of sleeping too much? Hm…) I think living on my own in confinement is requiring an extra layer of emotional strength even if I’m not aware of it and my body goes like, ‘yeah, you need a rest, love.’
I get it. Don’t think too much and let it be.
Roll out of bed, meditate and head down to prepare Saturday brunch with coffee, avo-toasts and omelette as I’m having my herbal tea to set the engines on. I think this brunch is my biggest plan for the day. It’s Saturday, so not planning anything at all.
In fact, I’m going to enjoy doing fuck-all.
Stay in my nightgown, messy hair and washed face. I pick another story from Murakami’s book as I’m eating under the London sun. Seems like a plan I can stick to. Against all odds, this book is likely to be the first one I’m going to finish. I quite like it.
I don’t even pay attention to what Random Playlist is playing. Feel pretty much in the reading flow. Leave the phone away, forget about the world and focus on enjoying Saturday like this.
Hmm… feels good.
I only stop this bliss to get on with some writing and chat with family.
Make sure I get ready for deep meditation practice at 19:00. It’s the one I usually end up almost snoring so I get comfy. We focus on our hand for the introductory self-hypnosis exercise and I’m already in another world by the time my hand reaches my nose. But something’s going on. Instructions become so hard to understand:
/so-e-m– oho-oh-foc-ppo-int/
I’m in a deep relaxation state but I can perceive our instructor’s Wi-Fi connection is not great.
…
We lose her.
Then, someone says ‘we can’t hear you’. I manage to get out of my deep state and check what’s going on. After 5 minutes of technical struggle people leave the ship. The session ends like that.
Oh well. It wasn’t meant to be today. At least now I know I can wake up from self-hypnosis on my own.
I use this time to have a shower because I feel pretty stinky after all the heat of the day and choose another nightgown. Planning to chat with my friends from Seville tonight, they’re getting ready to celebrate the first day of Feria indoors.
The April Fair. For Sevillians it’s THE event of the year. Forget about Holy Week. Feria de Abril. One week of drinking, eating and dancing on a loop. I mean, who wouldn’t like that?
No wonder that the attachment to this festivity is very, very, very strong. It’s socio-cultural identity to the deep chore. So the fact that it was cancelled by the pandemic has been close to traumatic for many. Only Civil War has stopped La Feria de Abril from celebrating.
Now Covid19.
I remember skipping Feria used to be pretty traumatic for me during my first years living abroad . Not being able to enjoy Feria was shit. And I hated when my friends sent me pictures. I wanted to be there and instead I was in London.
But now I’ve normalised it. It’s alright, I haven’t visited Seville during feria for 7 years (only one impasse 3 years ago and it was only one cold, rainy day. I refuse to make that day count), so I’m kind of used to my London life seeing all my friends having fun for a week. I guess the wound has healed.
Either that or the fact that everyone is in the same situation as mine.
The point is, friends back home felt pretty Feria-sick and organised a Zoom call to eat pescaíto (fried fish) and drink rebujito (a mix between 7-Up and vino fino –dangerous stuff). First night of Feria traditions need to be on check.
I have red wine, a vegetarian hamburger and some gazpacho. Intercultural fusion.
Pop in the meeting to say hi and catch up with some of them.
Some of them are genuinely living feria in their living rooms. Decorations, sevillanas (traditional music) and plenty of rebujito and pescaíto frito, olives, Iberic ham… you name it. One of them is already drunk as she’s waiting for the food delivery to arrive —pretty understandable.
I really feel them, I would have done the same during my first years in London had I had the chance. But now that I have the opportunity to share the joy with them… I’m wearing no make-up, no flowers and have mellow rock instead of sevillanas in my room.
It just feels different somehow. Maybe all these years abroad have finally sunk in somehow. It’s weird realising that I have one foot and a half in a culture and only the tip of my toes on another one. Maybe is just a reaction to confinement. Who knows.
Strange things happening during confinement. I guess I’ll have to see next Feria.
Anyway, it’s good to see them and catch up for a while.
We hang up rather late.
I make myself a tea and hit bed with my book. All in all, it’s been a good Saturday.