Kodak Moments

This town likes to take advantage of all the times I don’t have my camera with me. Living in between the two main cathedrals of Arcos, I have now seen elderly people carrying gigantic, ornate silver chalices and purple velvet banners through the streets several times. I suppose they want to get the silver polished before the Christmas season…

Then this afternoon I was in the Plaza del Cabildo, the beautiful heart of the old town, with a gorgeous view off the cliff. I had been sitting in the plaza for a while, reading and writing and listening to the multilingual babble of tourists. I headed back to my apartment down a narrow winding street and, rounding a corner, suddenly came across a group of several dozen Spaniards in their late twenties all dressed up in tuxedoes and ball gowns. None was an obvious bride, the men outnumbered the women at least two to one, and they seemed fairly nonchalant about their dressed-up-ness. I felt as though I’d come across a herd of giraffes, not only because they seemed so out of place, but also because there was nowhere for me to go to escape the incoming tide; I feel like giraffes are a type of animal who wouldn’t go out of their way to hurt you, but would just as easily kick you aside if need be. I found a shallow doorway to protect myself in, and the Spaniards strolled past, seemingly unaware of my presence or my narrow escape from the high-heeled herd. After they passed, I ran back to get my camera and returned to the Plaza del Cabildo not five minutes later. The Spaniards were nowhere to be found, and nowhere to be heard. The party had moved on, and I was left—as I so often am in this town—bewildered and once more reminding myself to always have a camera on hand.