los aires difíciles
In Cadíz, I am hearing stories about the wind. There is the Levante, which comes from the east, donde se levanta el sol, where the sun rises. In Cadiz, the Levante is dry because cruza por la tierra, it crosses over the landscape.
There is the Poniente, which comes from the west, done se pone el sol, where the sun sets. The Poniente is humid. We are having the Poniente right now. The bread I bought yesterday suddenly has mold on it.
There is el viento del Norte and the viento del sur, which cruza al mar, and comes from Africa. I’ve seen it in Capileira as well, in Granada, where it is called Calima. It looks like haze and brings with it sand from the Sahara.
Because of the wind, the streets in Cadíz rarely are constructed in straight lines, they go this way and that, pependicular or curving into small plazas here and there, all para cortar el viento, to cut the wind.
Each wind brings its own feeling too. The Levante when it blows strong te crispa los nervios, you feel people on edge, because it is a strong wind and for days, the windows and doors rattle. And before the Levante arrives, there is a period of deep stillness - the calm before the storm - it’s called Levante en Calma and se nota, everyone recognizes it, especially on some summer nights that are bonitas, calidas. beautiful, and warm. Your clothes dry quickly when the Levante is about, your skin dries too.
There is a novel by a famous Spanish writer that speaks to this. Los aires difíciles, it is called.
Los aires difíciles es una novela de la escritora española Almudena Grandes. Juan Olmedo y Sara Gómez son dos extraños que huyen de su pasado y se instalan en una urbanización de la costa gaditana. A novel about two strangers escaping their past who move to a small town on the coast of Cadíz.
The Wind From The East is the title used in the English version of the novel. But I prefer the more literal translation of “Los aires difíciles” - Rough Winds.
In Cadiz, I am learning about the wind and I am thinking of the winds blasting through Ukraine, and the wind whistling through the ears of the man whose might began the war, the wind whistling through his cold dreams. War is outdated, wrote the Dalai Lama and yet it is here, out of date, out of time, but present, and growing. Imagine easing out of three years of stillness, el Levante en Calma, to a war in Europe. I am thinking of the Levant, that region of the world that also gives the wind its name, and the rough winds there, the continuing occupation of Palestine, the open air prison that is Gaza. Los aires difíciles.
I am here in Spain with two suitcases and a love of dance and song. Today I walked a long way along the seashore with one friend who has lived here a long time. She had had lunch just the other day with a young Ukrainian student whose mother is in Kiev still with her grandparents who are too ill to move away. The Poniente was blowing and all the boats in the harbor pointed that way, to the west. Along the way, we met two other friends who invited me to lunch. We sat in a plaza named for a candela, a flame and I heard them speak about the arte that fills their lives, flamenco, tap, salsa, castanets, swing, pop songs. Side by side with what they do for a living, they make time for arte. It is like this. Así es. I am here in Spain with two suitcases and a love of dance and song. Side by side with los aires difíciles. Rough winds. Dance. Song. An outdated war. All of this is also on the wind. Today it is the poniente. Tomorrow, what will it be? Eventually, the winds must change. It is the nature of winds, no? the nature of change, no?
