winds of cadiz

I mentioned in my last post that the climate here is rather pleasant due to the fact that there is almost always a breeze in the air.

This really isn't that surprising, considering we are on the coast. However, what I have found pretty interesting over the last week and a half is how big of a role the wind plays in the culture here.

Weather is a funny phenomenon. As much as we'd like to brush it off like it ain't no thang, let's be honest: it's omnipotent presence has far more sway than we would like to admit. The spectrum is broad: from the f-ing freezing summers of SF that we will never quit complaining about, to the sunny beaches of Florida that allow senior citizens to truly appreciate their retirement, to the foudroyant spell of Katrina and it's eternal effects on the wonderful city of New Orleans...the weather outside, my friends, is not just weather. For some of us, it's a painfully boring topic of conversation...something that might come up on a bad date, or perhaps the only thing you could ever find to say to your 60 year old father-in-law. But for many (myself, my dad...the people of Cadiz), the weather is so truly important that it only deserves to be the topic of conversation all over town.

Nobody here cares too much about the sun or the rain or the humidity. Instead, they talk about the wind. And because it is such a common topic of conversation, even children refer to it by its oceanographic weather jargon. Of course, we all know that wind can come from four main directions, but here in Cadiz, it more often than not comes from the east or west. A warm breeze that comes from east is called levante, whose name refers to the direction in which the sun rises (levantar=to rise, if we speak of the sun). Like I said, this breeze is warm, and thus, totally awesome. It's counterpart goes by the name of poniente, which as you can guess, comes from the west and translates, more or less, to "set". It isn't necessarily a cool breeze, but rather a dry one, and thus, supposedly more pleasant. Between the two, they change frequently because, well, that's what wind does.

If the levante is up, it's hot and humid and the restaurant patios are particularly buzzing. There is no way you can go without a tinto de verano or a cold beer at 9 pm, when the sun is finally on its way down. Your skin is sticky, and it's a little stuffy, but you can't complain, because warm wind is better than no wind (curse the day I arrived...the only day that really no wind has blown).

It seems to me that poniente is less frequent, which is apparently unfortunate. Maybe I was just desperate for hot weather, but I think I can live without a cooler breeze. Plus, I've never been particularly fond of the desert, and that's what it feels like to me. However, it's supposedly much easier to navigate a boat in these conditions, and it's lightness doesn't levanta (oh!! slam! a play on words in spanish! levantar--lift up) the sand and whip it against your skin.

I am about to embark on an hour-long journey to Tarifa, where I will be able to see Africa from the beach. Supposedly it's almost unbearably windy there, often times causing abandonment of the beaches due to mild sand storms. Luckily enough, it's also supposed to be beautiful, so it's worth the sacrifice I suppose.

If you are one of the people mentioned above who share a fascination for the weather, read more about levante and poniente.