Days in Salamanca

"Pachamama is a goddess revered by the indigenous people of the Andes. She is also known as the earth/time mother. In Inca mythology, Pachamama is a fertility goddess who presides over planting and harvesting, embodies the mountains, and causes earthquakes."











It is written of Spain that no matter how much you may come to love the rustic countryside or the lively streets of the cities at night, it will be, in the end, the Spanish people and their zest for celebrating the long and sunny days the best. There's no better example of this shift than finding oneself at a small little place like Pachamama, on the other side of the Tormes River, at ten at night diving into a steak as large as the plate itself, and realizing that it is quite possible you are eating early, not late. It takes the mind, body, spirit some time to come to this shift; in America, we are now quite interested in eating our dinners as early as possible, so as to digest, then getting ourselves to bed by nine so that we can dial back up our schedules as early as possible: a quick bowl of cereal, a cup of coffee, a rush to a car, a rush to a school, a rush to a job, and then, as we ponder our hunger for a few hours, decide on that quick lunch counter we can get to with whatever spare time we might have. Let's face it, after a short while in Spain, we all ask the question 'how do the Spanish get away with this?' It's a question that is so not new that the writer has to wonder if it's worth asking. It wasn't until I cut through my steak that night, under the lights of the outdoor patio, under the fading light of the long Salamanca day, the I too would have thought it nothing more than cliche, go with the flow, eat when the rest of the folks do, and leave it at that. But I now want to know more and I want to know if I could get away with any of this back here in our fairly rigorously maintained schedules of the great midwest. The first thing that is recognized after a few nights in Spain is that there are a lot more hours to account for in any given day than what we are used to. It is not abnormal in the least for the standard American to already visualize a night of watching sports before the altar of the TV (I too watch far too much baseball) even before we arrive at home. This comes, I assume, to a feeling that one's day needs some escape, not an extension, as the Spanish might. If we have spent the last eight hours generally doing things that we would never choose to do – whether in terms of tasks or environment – than our homes become places to hide, escape, and generally get away from. The Spanish, on the other hand, are merely reengaging one more time at night and the hours from 8 until 1 or 2 in the morning are experienced much like the second part of the day to be enjoyed, to wander, eat new foods, and breath in the night air sprinkled with stars. This is one of two main revelations that I experienced in Spain: there is more life to be lived here because nights open up not as escapism, either via TV or bar drinking, for example, but a time of magic, wonder and culture. This insight alone is life altering, for unhappiness, we imagine, comes from our minds and bodies simply not living the way that they would choose naturally, a near definition of American culture. Virtually every component of American life that is deemed healthy, or a part of wellness, is something that is ardently added on – a good workout, a diet, a cleanse, time stolen back for meditation or maybe for plucking the strings of a guitar in ones basement. None of these things work seamlessly into the contours of scheduled lives; instead they are add-ons, escapes, or contrasts to our lifestyles. As I was sitting there in that seat out on that outdoor patio with my steak as big as a plate, I knew that I didn't particularly want that large of a portion of red meat and had actually made a mistake of choice as I ordered. But it was ten at night. I was still up. Awake. Alive. Looking out at the groups of people coming in for simple, not drunken, drinks. The steak was quite beautiful. Later that night I slept the sleep of a saint.