The Spectrum of First Impressions

Okay. But you're not listening to me. There are other things that need to be taken into account. Like the whole spectrum of human emotion. You can't just lump everything into these two categories and then just deny everything else.

Whenever my first impression of a place is defined by a dichotomy of opposites, Donnie Darko's wise words come to mind. We can't neatly place all life's happenings onto a linear spectrum that divides reality into simple, black and white concepts. First impressions, however, are almost always deriving from such understanding of existence. But that's the beauty of it: whether wrong or right, first impressions are the most obvious features that someone or someplace has to offer to the newcomer. The wise human will depart from it - and develop a gray scale of emotions that fully embraces the reality of whomever we approach throughout our lifetime.

The journey to Ceuta was very much a reflection of what stated above. Starting from the bus ride that took me from Malaga to Algeciras, people and landscapes suggested an essence divided between two polar opposites of a perception spectrum. Within three hours of my arrival in Andalusia, I met extremely annoying people who for some reason decided it was a good idea to throw paper balls at me whilst shouting "go back home, foreigner". About an hour later, another Andalusian exemplar decided that I looked devasted from my journey, and proceeded to offer me a Bocadillo con Papas (or a sandwich with fries). See how, to a first comer, these encounters are perfectly embodied in the first impression-spectrum theory. We tend to divide the unknown into clear categories that more often than not, are placed at two very distant, unconnectable extremes.

Andalusia's natural landscape was a reflection of this. On one side, a arid and harsh scenery, made of dirt, dry soil, and impervious desertic mountains; beautiful, but somewhat frightening and unwelcoming. Each rock was a visual proof of Andalusia's history of hardships and conflict. The other side was dominated by a bright blue, calm Mediterranean sea; and by the warm reflection of sunlight on its surface, dancing along with the evening breeze. Palm trees along the route, offering a green mantle to cover up the dry soil inbetween resort areas. These hotels were the quintessential reminder of the many dynasties and cultures that inhabited the area. You'd have a Santorini-style hotel next to a lavishly Moroccan resort, contrasting the blue and white of the former with bright red and golds; yet this agglomerate of styles made sense together, a cacophony of colours that somehow results in harmony.

Ceuta holds a stronger dichotomy. I am still trying to figure it out. I remember how I was told that residents are particularly keen to keep a clean, tidy, and very Spanish city centre; as I stepped in, I could only keep thinking that I am so a Northerner. There was little of the centre that I could define as clean and tidy, but I always forget that Andalucia is Italian Mezzogiorno's long-lost twin. Hence, probably, it is much cleaner and organised than the Moroccan districts. But I haven't gotten to fully explore this issue yet, and it would take a post of its own. Hasta luego, guapos.