Guadalajara
Discover more from Vic Koopmans
Guadalajara. It is very much a city. It has bus stops, a train station, buildings, parks, clubs, restaurants, roads, side walks and a few million inhabitants.
Sat in this apartment for a month I thank whoever is up there in the sky for dating apps, notebooks, pens and a roommate. They are very much welcome and needed over here in this place called city.
Every now and then I go out for groceries, or a walk and a cup of coffee. I’ll walk over one of the aforementioned sidewalks, will wait until one of Guadalajara’s traffic lights tells me it’s safe to cross a road and walk over one of the other sidewalks.
During my leisurely stroll I’ll cross a few restaurants and bars. People working there will ask me if I want to enter their establishment for food and or drinks.
“Hola,” they’ll say.
“Hola,” I’ll reply.
“Would you like a…”
“No.”
After some time thoughts will cross my mind. I’ll think that there should be less cars and that I’ll probably never understand why people always need to be so damn loud.
My adventurous exploration by foot will lead me to a place where they sell coffee.
“Hello, do you sell coffee?” I’ll ask in Spanish.
“Yes,” they’ll tell me. “That’s why we have a big fucking sign in front of this building that says: ‘We sell coffee’.”
I’ll nod. “That’s a lot of words for someone with such a limited vocabulary.”
“I don’t understand this witty remark.”
“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” I’ll answer.
“So, coffee?”
“Yes. Black. No sugar, no milk.”
Coffee machine noise.
“Quite warm outside today,” some other customer will say.
I’ll turn around slowly and reply, “Yes. Weather.”
The coffee will be exchanged for money and I will repeat the walk. This time around in reverse.
Upon coming home I’ll notice that approximately half an hour shall have passed. Weather permitting I’ll stand on the balcony from where I can see some buildings and a tree or two.
A sip from the coffee will be taken and a thumb will rise. I’ll look into the camera while a sun ray emphasises the whiteness of my teeth. Mariachi music will start playing in the background.
“Guadalajara,” I’ll say with a deep voice. “Very much a city.”
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