Adventures of Avenida Reina Mercedes 19b
Frequent happenings, by definition, are ordinary experiences in our lives.
In certian cases these experiences might actually be odd or downright outlandish, but we never realize it because of the regularity its occurence. It is in these instances that it is more than worthwhile to step outside of the normalcy of our lives in order to appreciate the depth of peculiarity.
I invite you into one of mine that takes place in my very building of Avenida Reina Mercedes 19b.
There is a woman (God help her) who lives in my building who is unfortunately very ill. I think she might be schizophrenic, which is hard. I want to specify here that her sickness is NOT funny at all, I wish I knew how to help her... but rather that some amusing situations result from these adverse circumstances.
I have now been living in Spain for two and a half years. Before I ever knew this woman lived in my building, I actually coincided with her on the #6 bus my FIRST week of life here. Vaya casualidad. And it was a pretty memorable experience.
At the ungodly hour of 6:45 in the morning, she climbed onto the bus SCREAMING (remember the ungodly hour) and demanding she be taken to the police station, never mind that she had no money to pay for a ticket, because her purse had been stolen. She held up our bus until the following bus caught up to the first. The rest of us passengers unloaded and boarded the second bus hoping to move on with our Tuesday morning, only to realize that she had in fact followed us to bus number two as we watch the first bus peel away in triumph. There are more details, but suffice it to say the episode lasted 45 painful early morning minutes, including dramatically advising potential passengers not to board and "save yourself while you still can" as if we were incarcerated, making compatriots out of strangers as only mutal suffering can. I spent the rest of that year exchanging knowing nods each time I boarded the bus and one of those particular other passengers was present. But I digress...
To explain a little bit more about my beloved building of 19b on Avenida Reina Mercedes, as is typical in Spanish apartment buildings, most of the flats have windows which give to an unexciting, inward patio housing some sort of generator and providing a space for the multitude of necessary clothes lines and such. Now, upon first moving here, I had the bedroom closest to the stairwell with one of these windows to the patio. Then, it only took about a month or so for it to begin.
The screaming.
Sometimes late at night.
Sometimes early, early in the morning.
It was from the stairwell... or from the patio... I don't know. But I recognized the voice. Oh how could I ever forget that voice from the shrieking session on the #6 bus that fateful Tuesday morning.
And it's the what that she screams (present tense, it still happens) that is so bizarre, too. Sometimes you can't make it out, but at othert times it is clear. "¡¡Asesinos!! Murderers!! They're trying to kill me!!"
I would wake up and hear it. After a while, I came to expect it. I learned to just try to go back to sleep. Herego the frequent happening that became ordinary.
A few months ago, I moved to another bedroom in our apartment, and my new roommate Maca moved in. She is hilarious and embodies all of the Andalusian art of humor in the world. She'll start telling a story and have me rolling, with tears flowing in about two minutes (which might not be saying much because I realize I laugh easily, but seriously, the woman is stinkin' hilarious.)
The first night she heard it, she came to me all worried.
Maca: "Julie... ummmm... there was a woman screaming last night that someone was murdering her."
Me: "Oh yeah... she does that. Don't worry, the poor thing is just ill. She can't help it. You don't need to be scared."
Maca: "Hmm... you think you could have mentioned that."
But now, it's this totally normal thing. And bizarre bit is that the WHOLE building that has windows that give to the patio have this unspoken, mutual knowledge and tolerance of this woman's eccentric habit of screaming at blasphemous hours. And furthermore, she doesn't just scream while sitting inside her house, she purposely goes to the window and leans out to scream so everyone will hear her.
One night she started screaming her usual "¡¡Asesinos!! Murderers!!" at 4am, and some brave (dumb) neighbor decided to politley ask her to stop, "Señora, silencio por favor, Madame, silence please." Well, she kept hollering, but changed her rant to "¡¡No me pienso callar!! I will not even think about quieting down!!" for the next hour and a half in protest to his grievance.
So now, as Maca says, this woman starts a session of bellowing untrue, absurd accusations and the whole building just lies in bed in silent endurance... everyone knowing that everyone else is awake as sleeping through such boorish declartions is impossible... clinging to the hope that she will quiet down... and praying that no one says ANYTHING... because they all know that if someone dares... they can expect another hour of the theatrical broadcasting of her objections to the complaint.
So there you have it, one of the best kept secrets of Avenida Reina Mercedes 19b.
It's as normal as bread and butter.
You are all invited to experience and partake.
In certian cases these experiences might actually be odd or downright outlandish, but we never realize it because of the regularity its occurence. It is in these instances that it is more than worthwhile to step outside of the normalcy of our lives in order to appreciate the depth of peculiarity.
I invite you into one of mine that takes place in my very building of Avenida Reina Mercedes 19b.
There is a woman (God help her) who lives in my building who is unfortunately very ill. I think she might be schizophrenic, which is hard. I want to specify here that her sickness is NOT funny at all, I wish I knew how to help her... but rather that some amusing situations result from these adverse circumstances.
I have now been living in Spain for two and a half years. Before I ever knew this woman lived in my building, I actually coincided with her on the #6 bus my FIRST week of life here. Vaya casualidad. And it was a pretty memorable experience.
At the ungodly hour of 6:45 in the morning, she climbed onto the bus SCREAMING (remember the ungodly hour) and demanding she be taken to the police station, never mind that she had no money to pay for a ticket, because her purse had been stolen. She held up our bus until the following bus caught up to the first. The rest of us passengers unloaded and boarded the second bus hoping to move on with our Tuesday morning, only to realize that she had in fact followed us to bus number two as we watch the first bus peel away in triumph. There are more details, but suffice it to say the episode lasted 45 painful early morning minutes, including dramatically advising potential passengers not to board and "save yourself while you still can" as if we were incarcerated, making compatriots out of strangers as only mutal suffering can. I spent the rest of that year exchanging knowing nods each time I boarded the bus and one of those particular other passengers was present. But I digress...
To explain a little bit more about my beloved building of 19b on Avenida Reina Mercedes, as is typical in Spanish apartment buildings, most of the flats have windows which give to an unexciting, inward patio housing some sort of generator and providing a space for the multitude of necessary clothes lines and such. Now, upon first moving here, I had the bedroom closest to the stairwell with one of these windows to the patio. Then, it only took about a month or so for it to begin.
The screaming.
Sometimes late at night.
Sometimes early, early in the morning.
It was from the stairwell... or from the patio... I don't know. But I recognized the voice. Oh how could I ever forget that voice from the shrieking session on the #6 bus that fateful Tuesday morning.
And it's the what that she screams (present tense, it still happens) that is so bizarre, too. Sometimes you can't make it out, but at othert times it is clear. "¡¡Asesinos!! Murderers!! They're trying to kill me!!"
I would wake up and hear it. After a while, I came to expect it. I learned to just try to go back to sleep. Herego the frequent happening that became ordinary.
A few months ago, I moved to another bedroom in our apartment, and my new roommate Maca moved in. She is hilarious and embodies all of the Andalusian art of humor in the world. She'll start telling a story and have me rolling, with tears flowing in about two minutes (which might not be saying much because I realize I laugh easily, but seriously, the woman is stinkin' hilarious.)
The first night she heard it, she came to me all worried.
Maca: "Julie... ummmm... there was a woman screaming last night that someone was murdering her."
Me: "Oh yeah... she does that. Don't worry, the poor thing is just ill. She can't help it. You don't need to be scared."
Maca: "Hmm... you think you could have mentioned that."
But now, it's this totally normal thing. And bizarre bit is that the WHOLE building that has windows that give to the patio have this unspoken, mutual knowledge and tolerance of this woman's eccentric habit of screaming at blasphemous hours. And furthermore, she doesn't just scream while sitting inside her house, she purposely goes to the window and leans out to scream so everyone will hear her.
One night she started screaming her usual "¡¡Asesinos!! Murderers!!" at 4am, and some brave (dumb) neighbor decided to politley ask her to stop, "Señora, silencio por favor, Madame, silence please." Well, she kept hollering, but changed her rant to "¡¡No me pienso callar!! I will not even think about quieting down!!" for the next hour and a half in protest to his grievance.
So now, as Maca says, this woman starts a session of bellowing untrue, absurd accusations and the whole building just lies in bed in silent endurance... everyone knowing that everyone else is awake as sleeping through such boorish declartions is impossible... clinging to the hope that she will quiet down... and praying that no one says ANYTHING... because they all know that if someone dares... they can expect another hour of the theatrical broadcasting of her objections to the complaint.
So there you have it, one of the best kept secrets of Avenida Reina Mercedes 19b.
It's as normal as bread and butter.
You are all invited to experience and partake.
posted by Julie Ann at 1:11 AM
25 comments
