Siesta, Fiesta

One thing I’ve learned so far (but have yet to master) from being in Spain is how to prioritise rest. Every Monday to Saturday, from about two and four in the afternoon, all the restaurants and shops (except major supermarkets and shopping centres) close. In what is known as siesta, most people go home to nap. During this time the streets are almost deserted; an odd scene to envision in the middle of a beautiful day in a beautiful city that was bustling just moments before. After that it’s business as usual until about 9pm.

Sundays are even worse. True to its Christian roots, Sunday really is a day of rest. This time EVERYTHING, ALL DAY is closed. While the country falls asleep around me, I usually find myself fidgeting, looking for something to do, or tossing around in my bed.

That’s because in my country we’re taught how to sacrifice basic human needs like sleep, eating well and keeping a healthy social life in order to work hard. For the most part, the country is still open on public holidays. Rest, we’re told, comes when you retire. There are hundreds of tourism ads aimed at retirees into going on lavish holidays ‘because they deserve it.’ But why do we have to overwork ourselves in order to deserve something?

Another thing I’ve learnt from the Spaniards, is how to prioritise fun. According to Spanish Living, “every day throughout the year there are fiestas taking place somewhere in Spain, either at a local, regional or national level.” Some are held in honour of patron saints, others in local folklore. Some well known ones include the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona (self explanatory), and La Tomatina in Valencia (tomato fight). I was lucky enough to catch the Festival of the Three Kings on my second day of arriving in Logrono. It featured an extravagant street parade of people dressed up as The Three Kings who brought Jesus gifts, throwing lollies at children in the crowd.

The nightlife here is more like early-morning-life. There are lounge bars you can go to from around midnight. But clubs don’t usually open till about 3am, and close at around 7am. Plus, they don’t wait till Friday or Saturday to go out, clubs are open on Thursdays too – yes, a school night. In comparison, clubs in Sydney die down by around 2am.

Where do they get all the energy? Probably from all the siestas they’ve taken during the week... no... their life.

Siesta and fiesta. You do it not because you deserve it from overworking yourself, but simply for being human and alive.

Love, Noeline
xox

Chupitos from bar Absolut

Festival of the Three Kings

At night rave near the guard's compartment, naked with a blue light

In the last 2 weeks you gave me air conditioning when it was storming, and none when it was 40 degrees celsius.
Then when I was meant to meet up with a friend, you canceled my train all together.
Then, you gave me three weekends of track work in a row.
Then you had the nerve to increase the price of my train ticket.
Then, both the ticket window and machine wouldn't accept eftpos. I had $1.
After that you gave me track work on a week day. You told me a bus would come every 10 minutes. It came every 30.

I pay $3 more for a weekly ticket than what I did 2 years ago. Funny thing is your service (or lack thereof) is just as shit as it's ever been. That's an extra $156 every year.

So what the hell do you all do when there's so called 'track work'? Is that code word for 'holiday'?

So from the bottom of my heart, FUCK YOU Cityrail, FUCK YOU. Looks like a bad year ahead for you and I.

“Only in NSW would commuters be asked to pay more for services that are getting worse.”
- State Opposition transport spokeswoman Gladys Berejiklian