>The people in the street are always very colorful humans. I love just sitting and watching them pass by me. Observing what they are doing. I never really lived in a large city where there are so many different people before. A big thrill for my son and myself was to go to Pittsburgh on Saturdays. We went to the strip District (the market area) and walked around. Trying different foods in the street. Going into different markets and talking to people. I wanted him to know a bit more about the world than I did. We talked to people, a Sikh man with a turban on his head. My son asked questions about why he wore that. An Italian man that ran a market. My son would ask all about the fruits and veggies and help put them out in the bins. We sat and listened to the music and watched the people. He even liked talking to the homeless people.
So my point is, that I was never really exposed to city life. To city people. So if I tell a story and it seems like an everyday event to some, it was an amazement to me.
The “Dance of the Dog” Lady or as Mamita says “Bailar de la Perra”
When I went to the galeria everyday to help Mamita out and make a little money here and there selling my jewelry I make I got to observe many people in the street. The same people passing by everyday. Saying hello. Going to their work or just taking a walk. The tigres in the street and the tourists. The tourists, almost all, did and said the same things as they passed by in the street. Everyday someone took a picture of the electric lines on Calle Isabel la Catolica. I know I did when I was a tourist.
But there is a woman that lives nearby. She is usually dressed decently. She does not live on the street. She is always clean and very opinionated in her view of politics. She has a passion for politics. She also has a dislike for people from USA. It is not that obvious when you see her normally. She says nothing but you can see it in her eyes. When she is drinking this is a whole other story. About 2 times a month, maybe 3 she gets a bit out of control. She frightened me at first. She would yell at everyone in the streets. Especially the people she did not know. She even got a little aggressive at times. Getting in peoples faces. A few times she was in mine.Some friends came and distracted her so I could get away. The lady may be skinny but she could probably take me in a fight! So when she was drinking I stayed away.
Mamita and I would watch her and her antics in the street. The others working in the surrounding galerias would be watching from their doorways as well when they had no customers. This dancing lady was known for her dance of the dog. She would get out in the middle of the street, a few times making cars stop and wait for her. Then she would start the dance. If you cannot picture what this dance looks like, imagine 2 dogs going at it, doggie style. When this lady was upset about something she did her dance, alone (thank goodness) in the street. She really went at it too. If I did that “dance” my back would not be very happy. She not only did the dance but she accompanied it with howling. She would be yelling out what she was angry with but it came out like a howl. So this really completed the whole “dance” effect.
After a time she decided she liked me. She would hug me and call me her friend from Spain. Even though I am from USA I let her think whatever she wanted. I enjoyed watching her and listening to her rant and rave. I also enjoyed watching others watching her. Especially the tourists. Most would pass as far from her as they could. I think many got brush burns from rubbing against the walls of the buildings trying to pass by her from as far away as they could possibly get. Then there were others that would just enjoy her antics. One man went in the street with her and did the dance, side by side mind you, not the normal dance of the dog position (again, thank goodness). We who were observing all clapped for him and had a good laugh.
The “Dance of the Dog” Lady is just one of the many colorful people in the Zone. There is always something to see.
