being there

The dulche leche ice cream is history. In was only in hand for a few minutes; I then regretted the speed at which it was consumed. Such are the fleeting pleasures of life!
I am situated under a red and yellow striped awning on the edge of the Plaza de la Indepencion in Torremolinos, Costa del Sol. Beyond the sidewalk of strolling shoppers, church volunteers efficiently unload the contents of a white van onto a cloth-draped platform in preparation for tonight's concert. Lemon trees dot the terracotta walkway while towering rows of apartment balconies encompass the higher echelon of my view. Hotel Picasso dominates the sidewalk across the way, its colorful flags flapping lazily in the evening breezes. A pizza-delivery motorbike buzzes the plaza, momentarily drowning out the incessant canned music that drifts from assorted cafes. Friend #112 exhorts regularly: "Wherever you are, be there," and I am attempting to do just that. I am here. In Spain. Under a cafe awning, merely taking in my surroundings. Having been delegated the official Watcher of the Stuff, time is on my side to linger over this present moment. Under my vigilant eye is a violin, a mandolin, a guitar, and various bags of groceries. The seven other members of our team are scoping out the area until the outreach begins. ( truth be told, they are window shopping....) Later this evening, we will sing, act, dance, share, and start friendly conversations with passersby. Tomorrow, we may do something entirely different. Each day we rise from our mattresses on the floor and dive happily into the schedule that presents itself to us. Our team members are a lively bunch and I am well content to be in their company.
I am pleased to offer a literary snapshot of an evening's activities in Southern Spain.