The simple things

Coming home from my run this past Thursday, I stopped to stretch in the park next to my apartment building.  Because Thursday was a religious holiday, schools and businesses were closed, and everybody seemed to be outside, especially since it was a beautiful, sunny day.  Whenever I go to the park, there is something going on.  Today it was bocce ball, and as I made my way home, I decided to stop and watch for a few minutes.

Gathered in a dirt courtyard adjacent to the park stood a group of roughly 30 men, ranging in age from fifty to mid seventies.  As an outsider, I couldn't help but analyze everything: dressed in wool sweaters and kahki pants, it seemed as though there was an unspoken dress code.  Leaning on the fence and watching were bystanders and friends, chatting and waiting their turn.  Children ran by playing and laughing as bystanders, like myself, stood watching in suspense as each man stepped up to the line, analyzed the placement of the other balls, and took his turn rolling his bocce ball.   Those waiting for their turn held their silver bocce balls, wrapped in old cloths, rubbing them and polishing them before they took their turn.

Their wives were nowhere to be seen.  My guess?  They were all out shopping for Christmas presents!

How cool is it that on a holiday, comparable to a bank holiday in the United States, that people chose to gather together outside enjoying a simple game of bocce ball.  Spain has definitely taught me to appreciate the simple things in life.