Hello ✿ Issue 06 is arriving a bit late because I flew into Dulles late Wednesday night and it’s taken me a few days to get my bearings. My first twelve American hours were spent in a Hyatt Place in northern Virginia, which was strange and grey and humid and empty and depressing. I’m in Charlottesville now and it feels better here.
There are many different lenses—and bodies of water—through which I could organize and review the past two years I’ve lived in Spain. I could consider time spent in various parks or cafes, riding public transportation, struggling with language, swimming in reservoirs or oceans, or dancing in clubs, but it feels like the rivers I’ve encountered have formed a significant structure of sorts. It’s impossible to summarize my time abroad with these short reflections, but together they create a story line.
Río Genil — July 2018
In July 2018, I received my school placement: a public bilingual secondary school in a small city called Écija. Google Maps showed me that a river runs along the eastern edge of the city, which put me at ease: a river was all I needed. Río Genil. I did a Google Image search, and one of the first photos that appeared illustrates a news article about authorities locating the dead body of a missing woman in the Genil river, in Écija. I struggled to imagine my life there but packed a bathing suit just in case.
(Note: I took a screenshot of the article recently, so there are covid-19 headlines, but it’s the exact same article and photo I discovered in July 2018.)
Río Ebro, Zaragoza — September 2018
In Zaragoza, I followed the Ebro river from the bus station to my hostel. I was wide-eyed, wandering slowly under the weight of my backpack, blissfully unaware of the fact that my debit card information had just been stolen when I used the ATM in the bus station. The thief placed an order at the Zaragoza Papa John’s around the same time I spotted this dead, decomposing pig washed up on the bank of the river. I watched the pig undulate gently in the water for a long time. Are all the rivers in Spain full of dead bodies? I wondered.
Río Genil, Écija — Fall 2018
Corner of a large cotton field washed out by the flooded Genil river.
In October, Écija received a downpour and the river flooded, turning everything to mud, stripping leaves from plants, and tangling scraps of fabric and trash in branches. Écija became colder and rainier than I ever expected southern Spain to be and the river was a brown, muddy mess, nearly impossible to access, no matter how hard I tried. At the same time, I was struggling with my job, with Spanish, with feeling isolated and lonely. I kept getting sick, one illness after another: a stomach bug, the flu, some kind of food or water poisoning. By mid-December, I was haggard and weak and ready to quit.
Fiume Po, Torino — December 2018
I added Turin to my winter break travel itinerary because I’d read somewhere that it was the birthplace of Italian electronic music. Turin became one of my favorite cities: it felt like the cold winters I was used to in Virginia, everyone I met was so kind and jovial, people were dancing on the street and in restaurants, and there was a river, fiume Po. I walked up and down and across this river in a state of pure contentment, watching hundreds of birds swoop around each other in the chilled air, feeling the weight of my Écija-induced malaise slip away.
Río Genil, Écija — February 2019
Adele standing just downriver from Playa Galgo.
Spring came early to Écija, in late January. Eager green shoots poked out of the drying mud. I wore shorts down to the river, where I met the farmers’ greyhounds and drank cans of beer in the sun. Adele visited at the end of February and I was so excited to show her this place that was quickly becoming home to me, with the greyhounds and horses and twilight bats and spring buds in the trees. We named two different beaches, Playa Galgo and Playa Piedra, where we made essence water and danced and ate juicy Spanish oranges.
Río Genil, Écija — April 2019
I can feel the edges of things softening. The lushness and wildness of the river brings me to tears almost every time I’m down there now. I saw some greyhounds yesterday, the ones owned by the older man. I talked to him, he was there with his shy grandson, who was sitting on top of the motorbike. The greyhounds were shy too. The man said he loves the river at this time of year, and showed me the white flowers. Picked a few and held them in his weathered hands. He said they are called margaritas.
Río Manzanares, Villalba — Fall 2019
When I was placed in a school west of Madrid, I made the mistake of living in suburban Villalba, close to the school but a journey to the city center. My apartment was next to a park bordered by the Manzanares river. It was true, in the end, that a river was all I needed in Écija, and I tried to convince myself that this could be true in Villalba. But as much as I loved exploring that little stretch of the Manzanares, it wasn’t enough to keep me in the suburbs. After three months I lugged my belongings to a neighborhood in the city so I could go out dancing until 6 in the morning on a more regular basis.
Río Manzanares, Madrid — February 2020
After the movie, we walked around looking for a bar, to no avail. We bought cans of beer at an alimentación and sat cross-legged on the wall at the edge of the river, facing each other. It was the night before the full moon in Leo. Across the river, under the bridge, a group of about thirty men were practicing some kind of traditional Latin dance. We talked about the movie and what kind of history we like and many other things. Eventually it was cold, and I wanted to get down from the wall and kiss her, but I was too shy.
Río Manzanares, Madrid — May 2020
On Saturday, May 2, Madrid entered into Phase 0.5, allowing people to leave their homes for one hour of exercise every day.
It was like the whole world was out tonight. I went to the river, wanting to walk for a ways, and run a bit, and it was so crowded. People walking, running, rollerblading, biking, skateboarding, standing and talking, taking selfies... and maybe only 60% wearing masks. The path by the river was technically roped off with police tape but everyone ignored it. So I did too. I walked for about 15-20 minutes down the river, trying to maintain distance. Finally I turned around and ran most of the way back, passing people, sprinting. It hurt so good. But it was scary, breathing all that air.
This was the first time I’d left my apartment, other than for groceries, in almost two months. (I took this photo later in the summer, but imagine these sidewalks full of people exercising for the first time since mid-March.)
Río Manzanares, Madrid — September 1, 2020
I couldn’t imagine spending my last evening in Spain anywhere but riverside with friends. A giant LCD screen on the mall across the river flashed glitchy reminders to wash your hands and wear a mask, casting colored ripples across the water and onto Danny and Clement’s faces. The sky turned pink, then orange. It’s this moment that I miss immediately upon waking up in Virginia — being in a park with friends, drinking cans of cheap beer, people- and dog-watching, everything splashed with color, late summer breezes hinting at the change of season. It feels like enough to draw me back some day.
✿ Six Things
Donate to Black Education Pods, creating accessible educational opportunities for black and brown youth nationwide. Read more about the project and how the pandemic exacerbates inequities in access to education.
According to a recent @rvabailfund IG post, ~95 people are being held on ~$432,950 in total bonds in central Virginia. Donate some money and learn more about the Richmond Community Bail Fund here.
Read Inventing Whiteness and familiarize yourself with the timeline of whiteness from 1650-2000. “The history of race in America is grossly incomplete without the stories of how white folks came to be.”
Happy (belated) Labor Day! A couple fun labor-related reads: “On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs” by David Graeber and “Work Sucks” by Cassandra Vee.
“Say what you like about nurses, garbage collectors, or mechanics, it's obvious that were they to vanish in a puff of smoke, the results would be immediate and catastrophic. A world without teachers or dock-workers would soon be in trouble, and even one without science fiction writers or ska musicians would clearly be a lesser place. It's not entirely clear how humanity would suffer were all private equity CEOs, lobbyists, PR researchers, actuaries, telemarketers, bailiffs or legal consultants to similarly vanish.” — David Graeber
If you don’t yet understand why gender reveal parties are ridiculous, read the caption of this IG post:
I’m always trying to keep tabs on library projects and pop-ups. A couple I’ve discovered recently include the Lil Rad Library in Richmond (Chimborazo Park) and the Library of Study in NYC. The Library of Study is having a poetry event in Prospect Park on September 12, with a poetry library from 2-5pm and a reading from 5-6:30pm.
Thank you for reading! As always, I welcome your feedback. Respond to this email or leave a comment with any thoughts, suggestions, questions. I believe issue 07 will be an ode to a certain special greyhound in my life.
♥ Ava