A Richard Gere He has been seen in extreme situations: furrowing the skies with aviator uniform, redeeming prostitutes with a face of Julia Roberts, reciting Buddhist philosophy in BBC documentaries. But none of these experiences had prepared it for what awaited him in the moral: a move. The hell with a carrier invoice.
Hollywood’s big stars can afford many things. The immortality of the Californian tan. Cutaneous scalp of scalpel proof. A team of attendees who fake to the shoelaces. But there are things that neither the most bulky bank account can avoid: the burden of a move. It doesn’t matter if you hire the premium service with young men that embale until the owner’s dignity. The unmarked box will always remain, the lamp that does not fit in any corner, the damn cables that, as snakes curled up, nobody remembers what the hell they belong to.
Several months have passed since Richard Gere (75 years) and his wife, Alejandra Gere (42), decided to settle in Spain with their children. Madrid’s fall received them with Churros from San Ginés, promises of Iberian ham and two -hour naps, but there were still logistics fringes. That is, the actor’s belongings were missing, which until Thursday, February 20 had remained in a transatlantic lethargy in their former Connecticut mansion.
The images disseminated by The Spanish They attest that a truck arrived early, occupying more space than allowed the sidewalks of the moral. Several operators unloaded boxes with the same parsimony with which a Tibetan monk paints a mandala. After all, each box had the name of ‘Gere’ printed on a marker, as if it were an object of Buddhist cult. Inside, Treasures of incalculable value: large furniture, pictures classified as “Art Storage”, ornamental elements marked with the cryptic “Decorative Items”, and endless “Personal Photos” that prove a life of glamor and imperturbable inn.
Among the packages, the surprise of the day: a wooden house. Thus, with all its pieces. A dismembered house, with its frame, its roof, its pine slats walls, and even a triple torsion hexagonal mesh that, according to experts, is usually used in chickens. Would it be the country’s country whim with ecological aspirations? A shelter for transcendental meditation? A hiding place to avoid future removals? No one knew it with certainty.
The hours passed and the transfer of workers entered and left the mansion, while Richard Gere watched with that impassive gesture that he has perfected throughout his career. No one imagined that under that facade of serenity there was a man who, like any mortal, would be looking forward to the nightmare. Because, if there is something worse than the move itself, it is the postmudence: the face -to -face confrontation with the objects, the decision where everything is going, the maze of boxes that seem to reproduce when nobody looks.
Alejandra, much more tanned in these lides, did what any sensible Spanish would do: go out to buy snack. He took the children to a near bakery and returned with provisions for the only thing that relieves a move: the sweet. Because in Spain, before any catastrophe, there is always a comfort: nap, coffee with churros or, failing that, a chocolate palm.
At the end of the day, between the open boxes, the abandoned tools and the echo of the operators that said goodbye, Richard Gere had to think that not even the most convoluted Hollywood script had prepared him for this. Neither Buddhism, nor yoga, nor the silent landscapes of Tibet can save you from the chaos of a move. There is only one solution: wish to pass fast and, if possible, that the next one does another. Although we all know that, in these cases, there is always something to be relieved.
And so, between the dust of the packaging and the creak of the cardboard, Richard Gere learned the great lesson of life in Spain: here, time is measured in compliance and patience is grown with a good piece of cake.
