Double-Parking

It puzzled me for a few days. A conundrum I couldn't solve, no matter how hard I tried. How on earth do they do that, I asked myself every time I left my flat in Seville. There it was, as clear as day: one side of the street lined with two parallel rows of neatly parked cars, bumpers almost touching. Double-parking done to perfection.

Now, it's all fine and dandy if your car is in the road-side row, I said to myself. But what if you park your car at the kerbstone, only to return a day later and find it jammed on all sides? What do you do? Ring the doorbells of the neighbouring apartment buildings? Take to the pavement, only to find your way blocked by a lamppost? Shrug your shoulders and make a dash for the bus? Sit down and cry?

Because I could never catch them at it the problem remained unsolved. Besides, it seemed I was the only one who cared. No old geezer shaking his head in disbelief. No rookie police officer feverishly calling for backup to bring a halt to this massive display of civil disobedience.

Sometimes you have to face the facts and admit that your mental capabilities are limited, if not stunted. I couldn't work it out myself, so I turned to one of my flatmates. 'It's very simple,' he said. 'When you double-park, you're supposed to leave the handbrake disengaged. Now, when somebody wants to pull out and your car is in the way, he just pushes it a few metres forward or backward. Carefully, you hope.' And damn if it isn't true, a few days later I chanced upon a live enactment of his words.

Sadly though, it's always the same with mysteries. Once you know the trick you quickly lose interest. I didn't bat an eyelid when I recently came across this pretty scene: cars parked in the middle of the road. A big fuck you to the local authorities, who prefer to waste funds on a futuristic vantage point smack-dab in the middle of the historical city centre? Or resourceful citizenship at its best?

Meanwhile, Seville's famous orange trees are involved in their own little act of double-parking. While last year's wrinkly oranges still colour the branches, frail blossoms start to appear, spreading the heady scent of spring. Slowly Seville is getting ready for its annual moment of glory, when thousands of tourists flock to the city to witness the Semana Santa processions and the Feria de Abril madness. But I won't be there to join them. I'm pulling out and riding off!