La Alameda de la Vida

This afternoon, a blusterous day of rain and yes, snow, that kept the mercury levels below the Fahrenheit level of 50, we all agreed to brave the conditions and walk the Alameda, or tree-lined path, that wanders around Segovia. The tranquil dirt path populated with trees and people blew Central Park out of the water like a whale spraying tiny organisms out of its blowhole. From the path we could see the old city walls made of scattered blocks each a different tone of ivory. A river flowed along its side and tiny caves sat nestled in the surrounding rock. At the end of la alameda we could see the Alcázar from the opposite side still holding our gaze with its genuine beauty. But the most remarkable thing I saw strolling la alameda, was the stark difference in the pace of life between Spain and the United States.

On the path, Spaniards walked just to walk. Joggers passed by without headphones but rather, conversing with each other. Even the wind that tangled our hair was not rushed. Here, city life has a different feel. Instead of the New York City bustle of swift steps and honking horns, it seems there is more appreciation for the surroundings and the moment that is, every step of the way. Yes, the streets are often crowded with people, but in the simple way that they move their feet, turn their heads, and move their mouths, their walk is marked more by pleasure than purpose.

Even the pace of food here is different. In New York City, the streets are lined with vendors and mouths are stuffed with juicy hot dogs, while walking. In Segovia, not a soul walks the streets eating food. Meals are not seen as an ends of fast nourishment but rather as an indulgent process to be enjoyed with friends and family. We eat breakfast around eight or nine, even earlier depending on when we get up. This is a very small meal and usually consists of some galletas con leche (cookies and milk), tostada (toast), cereales, or sometimes bizcocho (a sweet bread like a lighter version of pound cake). Comida is not served until 2:30 and is the biggest meal of the day with two courses and dessert. Just as well, from 2:00-5:00 in the afternoon, all shops are closed (except some restaurants) for la siesta, a time of rest. In this way, lunch is never part of another stepping stone on the blazing path back to work. Finally, la cena is served around 9:00 pm, when here, darkness begins to blanket the sky. And of course in between the meals some people often eat snacks like fruit, pastries, small sandwiches, and hot drinks. Furthermore, each meal is eaten with the family, at home, accompanied by much conversation. While it may seem difficult to endure such a long time without eating, after three days my body has felt the best it ever has. In a way, the routine sets up the body to think about eating the food, not finishing it.

Passing through La Alameda brought to life one of the oldest clichés in the book, that here in Spain is not just a saying but a true moral of existence: Life is about the journey, not the destination.