Serenity Sunday Part II

Rick wrote Part 1 http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.fr/

My mission was to:

      1. Throw the bottles away

      2. Visit my friend with the bad back to make sure she had everything she needed and give  
           her a bad rub with the oils provided by her therapist.

       3. Pick up the veggies for lunch.

First there was a chat with my neighbour Emanuel who is painting his motor scooter in front of the house.

As I walked past Madame Fernendez's house the door was open and I could see her sitting at the kitchen table. 

Madame Fernandez is one of the mamies, old Catalan women (maybe younger than me, but grandmotherly in the old fashioned sense of the word). She struggled up and came out to give me a two-cheek kiss. I'm undertall but she has to look up to me. For years, she's watered my plants when I'm away and we've chatted regularly on the street for close to two decades.

Once when my garbage can had disappeared, I asked her husband if I could use theirs for small bags. He said "no," and I shrugged it off as a Catalan possessiveness of garbage cans, a cultural difference I didn't understand but could accept.

The next day she left the other mamies she was chatting with and ran, literally ran, up to me.

"What did you ask my husband?" she asked. She looked worried.

I told her.

"He didn't understand." This was not a surprise between his Catalan and my English accent. "Of course, you can use my garbage can." She made one of those snorts that the mamies do so well. "Stupid man." 

She's is shrinking in front of my eyes from her many dialysises. Each time I come back, I'm relieved she's still alive. Her colour is terrible, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she said, "Ton mari est très beau." 

"He's not my husband yet. August."

"It's never too late to love," she said, her eyes still twinkling.

I passed Miloud's studio. He's an award-winning painter from Algeria. We chat often. I start out with Mahaba and Que Fac, and then we go into French for his Bonjour and ça ca... He beckoned me in.

I've my eye on one his paintings on burlap of three women in Burkas. I knew the price, but he would sell it for less, because I'm a friend but I reassured him as a friend I'd want to be fair to him. He offered me lettuce from his garden which will go well with the extra tomatoes the tomato man gave me yesterday, the end of his produce.

My friend was a bit perkier than yesterday, but still in pain. When I leave on Wednesday, another friend will take over and the green grocers, the jewelers and the potter will help her if she needs it. She just has to call out the window.

Final stop at Elisabeth's for spinach. Although there was none, the broccoli will work with the dahl and Indian spices. The basil smelled lovely to add to Milou's lettuce and tomatoes. I still have fresh coriander for the yoghurt.

More people were out and about than when Rick was out, but the serenity comes from being part of a community that shares.