So What do you do with your Siesta Time
July 2006 - Andalucia
We transplanted northern Europeans in this area of Spain have much to learn from local people in every department of life, and that is, for us Fruitbats, one of the pleasures of traveling and living in other countries. This is our first high summer here in really hot southern climes, having up to now spent four or five months On Tour further north, mainly in the UK, at this time of year. We confess to having felt very nervous about living in el calor fuerte (the strong heat) in July and August, and wondered if I especially could survive it.
However - so far, so good - but solely on account of listening to the good advice of Spanish neighbours and other friends who have lived here for many years, and observing the local dogs who find a shady bush with a good through-breeze and collapse during daylight. Above all, we're constantly told (by the humans, that is), stay indoors 'twixt the hours of about 1.30 and 6.30, at all times move slowly and remain utterly tranquilo. The siesta is all. Never, ever neglect the siesta. Okay, we're learning. It's not difficult to follow the advice to close all the shutters and windows, keep the house in semi-darkness and remain indoors during the fierce heat of the afternoon. In fact, it's essential.
Separation Anxiety
In our household, Marido Querido (dear husband) who's previously done enough of the clock-watching, stressed-out working days has, until recently, relished his long, gentle mornings drinking tea, reading books and ever-so-slowly relinquishing his bed. Untimely ripped from the duvet and he gets Separation Anxiety. But even he is now utterly converted to the upside down, inside out, back to front days and nights that are the Southern Spanish summer. Up and at 'em by 7.00 (quite a turn-around), he's slowing down by 12.30 and after an early-mid afternoon lunch, just has to go and take a nap. Like any sensible person. Then of course as the evening wears on, activity increases once more, we eat our supper at Spanish times, around 9.30 or 10.00, have a couple of bracing rounds of Rummykub or Boggle or spend time with friends. Then, as Small Dog comes alive in the relative cool of darkness, there will be a strollette around midnight or 1.00am which goes down a treat. After that maybe an hour or so reading, writing or cartooning, followed by another open-windowed, open-doored, dog-bark-punctuated slumber.
Returning to our, theme, however, my question is, when is a siesta a long blink and when is it just being indoors in the afternoon? Do other activities qualify as 'siesta'? Perhaps I'm just interminably nosey but I am curious about what people do in the coolish, indoor gloom of their afternoons. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pervertedly hankering after detail about intimate relationships. 'Tis true that naked sweaty bodies may well result in inflamed passion. But steady on. After all, too much siesta sex in this heat and you'd need a stand-by resuscitation team or the fire patrol helicopter hovering overhead.
Mildly sinful
At first I felt it was mildly sinful to crash out in the afternoons. I haven't done that since I was a greasy-haired student with a relatively unstructured lifestyle and an even more unstructured approach to assignment deadlines. Then of course, that feeling has subsided and I realize it's a necessity of summer life here. In addition to which, these 'siesta' times are perfect for tackling that list of sedate activities which I've been putting off. Or those I've genuinely not had time to do in the bright, late-winter and spring days when being outdoors was a priority, not least because of the quantities of the neighbour's olives that needed to be collected over several months.
The onset of serious siesta-ing has meant that I haven't done as much sewing and mending for 35 years, since the fearsome Miss Platt used to rap my knuckles with a ruler in Domestic Science lessons because my tacking stitches weren't perfectly straight and uniformly sized. I've taken up trousers I'd forgotten I had, mended garments that have been in the sewing box for 3 years or more and even contemplated making something new. (I then quickly realized the heat was getting to me and went for a lie-down. Thank goodness. No need to get carried away.)
My book-reading has resumed with a vengeance - my usual routine is just one page before I go to sleep at night, then the book falls on my face, but now it's half a book at one sitting again. I've caught up with letters and postcards which have been neglected in favour of quick-fire emailing, the website has finally got updated - this is the evidence! - cupboards have been tidied (though I suspect this qualifies as borderline-energetic) and at last I'm keeping up with homework from my Spanish classes. I even get an hour or two's kip most days. It's marvelous.
For an activity to qualify as 'siesta' it clearly has to be low-tech as well as low-speed. Anything that involves the use of electricity, and therefore generates heat, is right off the agenda. There's enough heat trying to seep in from outdoors without adding to it. I quickly realized that this is a good excuse for keeping ironing out of sight - we may only boast a travel iron and a dozen items of clothing that definitely need an iron passed over them, but it's amazing how much heat even a travel iron can produce.
I just need a bit more advice now though. How far should I go with the hints to Marido Querido that his siesta-time displacement activity is no longer convincing? I've tried the subtle approaches for a while and I'm running out of ideas. I guess all that's left is to leave those wretched CDs on his pillow. Surely the summer can't pass without him at least starting the Michel Thomas Teach Yourself Spanish course that's been on his 'To Do' list since last October?!
Jeni y Dave y Chip
July 2006