November in Spain, morning light, and passafires

1. Seeing my breath in the air, people armed in winter accessories, the temperature on the clock at one degree Celsius, and yet there are still palm trees standing tall, seemingly untouched and unfazed by the cold.

2. The horizontal sunrise line gradually moves higher and higher across cathedrals and plaza columns on my morning walk to Spanish class.

3. My two adult students ask for the name of the thing that Maggie Simpson has in her mouth. I explain that it´s a passafire. As the two women laugh and talk in Spanish, I can understand that they´re creating their own meaning for the word. Something roughly like, ¨when the baby cries, it´s like a fire, so you need to pass something over quickly to stop the fire.¨