in Conil by the sea

This first week in Spain, in Conil del la Frontera, a small town, south of Cadíz, right on the Atlantic sea. There was such wind on the first day, tendrils of sand hovering over the ground, funneling fast into the sea.

This first week in Spain, there is a war in Ukraine that I feel angry, dismayed and helpless about. I think of a Ukranian couple I met in France some years, two women and their daughter whom I met on a beach in Brittany. Over dinner one evening, they showed me videos from old films they loved. There was a scene that reminded me of old Hindi films, a girl comes home late and her mother is waiting for her, cautioning her about a woman’s desire.

There are small yellow flowers everywhere in Conil. I asked their name. I was told they are called vinagreta. Because when you crush them, they smell like vinegar.