Tick Tock.

Can I fast forward to landing in Phoenix? I hate this limbo. Hate it. I can’t sleep, and I have to admit to myself it’s because I’m anxious--anxious to leave, anxious to stay. I should be exhausted--I walked miles in the blazing heat to a sunflower field, it was random, but an experience nonetheless. Afterwards, I walked up to the Sierrezuela, baked brownies, got a pizza to go, and watched an episode of The Office with Will in the one room with air conditioning.

Currently, I’m hot and uncomfortable in bed.

I can’t sleep, at all. I tried putting in ear plugs, shutting all my blinds, closing my lap top, etc. Nothing works. I watched a lizard crawl across the wall on the building across from me for atleast 5 minutes, when I realized not being able to sleep is my biggest pet peeve.

At night, you see the strangest things. Last night, I saw my neighbor tossing and turning in his bed--I felt like a total creeper, but his light was on and he is literally right across from me. Alright, no excuses, that was creeper of me. It got me thinking about who can see into my window. I never thought about it before.

I guess I want to know what lies ahead. Who lies ahead. What does the world have in store for me? These questions..these are the questions that make me toss and turn. Tick, Tock, the clock is running out.



The grand essentials for happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

Cold Showers..check.

Well, I’ve discovered the key to enjoying a cold shower--an unbearably hot run through the middle of nowhere. There is a makeshift running path (made by tractor wheels) that starts along the train tracks, I’ve stared at it from the bridge above, thinking how nice it would be to literally run in the middle of nowhere. Just heading towards the horizon. So, today, I decided to try and figure out how to find the road from the train tracks, stumbled upon it, and did it.
It was a little shifty at first, I ran passed the abandoned electricity building and under the bridge along the tracks--nobody to be found, no sign of life. The old train tracks ran to the right of the new ones, overgrown and aged--I want to go back and a take a picture before I leave.
Per usual, I selected the worst time of day to go running, around 2:30 pm. The heat was unbelievable, it was equivalent to Arizona in the summer. I didn’t bother bringing a water because my run was kind of spontaneous, but as my feet kicked up the dirt behind me and the sun beat down on my shoulders, none of it mattered because I felt like I was off on my own, an afternoon adventure. It sounds weird, but I wanted it to be hard, the heat was welcome. I ran on that path today instead of on my usual route because I wanted to be alone. Like tonight, I want to just go somewhere and sit--to think. But I can’t, because there isn’t really anywhere I can go and hide in Posadas--the drawback of a small town. So I’m sitting in my half packed room, overheating and over thinking things.
I know it comes off as if I’m disconcerted about coming home--but sometimes I get so excited thinking about it that I don’t think I can wait another 3 days. One word, Bella. On the other hand, I feel like I could stay in Spain forever, atleast part of me could.
Yesterday I went to Feria with Nick. He’s teaching little kids in Jaen area. He was showing me photos of his classes and talking about his students--it was really sweet and funny. He did a crazy amount of traveling, 13 countries in 9ish months. He’s going to come back next year, but doesn’t know where exactly in Andalucia he’ll be--I envy him in some ways, for staying, but his experience was a little different than mine. He was the only foreign teacher at his school and was embraced by the local families--I told him I think Posadas is a little more closed than his town. Although all the people are really nice, I’ve never felt that either Will or I are apart of the town. We enjoy it and have fun with the students, but it’s not been made a home. Feria was really interesting but soooooooooooooooo hot. We ended up doing the spanish version of the log ride (confident with both contracted hepatitis from the dirty ride water lol) but it was fun and random. Definitely worth seeing.
I’m starting to mentally prepare myself for the big journey home, both the physical and emotional aspects. I’m not as sad to leave as I was a couple days ago, I’m ready to see my friends and my family. Phone calls...going out..can’t think about it--I still have a couple days to go.
Oh, by the way, the mystery of last night’s insomnia has been solved--I took excedrin migraine and it has a good amount of caffeine per pill..thus, I’m hoping considering the 3 hours of sleep I got last night that tonight I’ll be able to fall asleep. I’m taking the first train to Cordoba and then taking the bus from the Alcazar to the Medina (Either at 10 or 11), kind of strange because I am going by myself--I used to hate even waiting infront of a movie theatre for people. Strange.

On Change.

There are so many quotes regarding relationships, questioning the ability of people to change.
“You can’t change a man.”
“Some people never change.”
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

But, as a former skeptic, I’ve converted into a pseudo-believer. We have a tendency to freeze a memory of people we know--holding it to be the truth. People I knew 10 years ago, I still imagine to be the same, with the same characteristics, same drawbacks. Then I meet them, the person they are now. I think that’s one of the downfalls of relationships that start when we are young. Not all of us, but some of us change. Or rather, life changes us.
I think part of my naivete diminished when I lost my first loved one--something about death coming to your doorstep, alters you. To know that level of loss exists, modifies your outlook on relationships and life. Likewise, when you get your first tastes of independence, betrayal or heartbreak. I asked before whether it was possible to get the wisdom without making the mistakes--but I think it’s not always necessarily in the lessons, it’s in the experiences themselves. It’s the feelings that accompany the tribulations, getting a taste of something you love or loathe.
Example, I’m single--but I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. I’d even argue, I’m not single--I’m untroubled. I’m taking timeout, being alone is easier--making decisions in my best interest and not in the interest of two. There comes a time in your life, where you just need to be first. I’ve been a perpetual dater since 15. I think the longest I had been single in my life was a week, it sounds crazy but I was the Queen of Back-Up dating. Kenny questioned this turnaround, a believer in the no-change character policy, but I thought for a minute and then said..”It’s not that I’ve changed, It’s that I’ve grown up.” Maybe people don’t change overnight, but I’ve got to believe we learn from our mistakes, learn about ourselves, and become better. We take what wasn’t working before and fix it.
I was talking with Eli about life, and I shared with her something my mom told me a few months ago, “It’s one of the important lessons in life--to learn the difference between solitude and loneliness. There will be times in your life where you just need to be alone, whatever the reasons may be. Independence and strength, you find them in solitude.” Six months ago, I wouldn’t have understood it. Now, It’s the reality of things.
It’s interesting--Arizona is the beginning, Spain is middle, and then the original beginning becomes the ending. To go back to the same place, same people, same things..but not be the same person. I confided in Eli about this secret fear I’ve been harboring--what if, going home, means going back to old habits? I worry that being away from the presence of my Dad allowed me to be free of that weight, in closer proximity, will I feel it? The wiser part of me says no..it’s not the physical distance, it’s the emotional distance I’ve established that makes the real difference. I hope someday I can forgive my father, but I think that will take some more understanding--that, I haven’t been able to manage yet. The one thing I will say is that I left on unsure footing, but go back with a steadier step--and that’s comforting for now.


Later that night...

I miss air conditioning. I can’t sleep, the temperature in my bedroom is too uncomfortable. Bats are circling my window. The silver lining of the heat induced insomnia is that I can see the stars clearly--the sky is a deep midnight blue dotted with glistening silver specks. I tried to mentally memorize it. It’s so late that even the mesoncito is quiet..the only sound is the occasional passing of a train. I’ve never left my blinds open at night--it’s a strange thing to see, these bats whirring by at high speed. I slid the door that goes out onto my balcony shut, just to ensure no bats fly into my bedroom--that would be total chaos.
I hate not being able to sleep. At a certain hour in the night, you just have to accept that you won’t be sleeping. I tried to be productive, doing crunches and seeing how many push ups I could do. I read my Andalucia guide book and decided to go to the Medina on Sunday morning. I just realized I need to double check the train times on Sunday, to make sure I can get there by 10:30 am. Luckily, as it is ungodly late I have plenty of time to get up and check it.

To my beloved

Dearest Kenny--

“Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.”

Keep it classy. Keep your pants up. And set your standards high.

Sincerely,

Courtney Elizabeth

Chapter 12 (work in progress..probably lots of typos)

There is something about 3 p.m. In the desert--people stay indoors, shut in. For me, I usually do my longest, hardest, runs at this hour. The heat permeates off the pavement, you can see it, bubbling up like steam from a pot. The hour between 3 and 4 is the best time of day--the streets are quiet, for the first time all afternoon you’re enveloped by quiet. I wiped the sweat off my brow, calmed by the rhythmic sound of our feet touching the ground. I saw the gate ahead, starting to close, in unison we completed our daily run with a sprint--Bachi breathed heavy at my side as we darted through the gate of the townhouses just as it was shutting.
Bachi tugged anxiously ahead of me, recovered from our run, but ready for his lunch. “Okay, Okay, one minute. We need to get the mail first.” I could see the mail starting to pile up in my box, I sighed--still catching my breath, unlocking it and taking the stack of miscellaneous letters. I never bothered to go through them before carrying them upstairs, it was always the same--ads, my subscription to various magazines, bills, etc. Bachi was pulling hard at his leash, bounding up the stairs to the front door. I trailed behind wistfully, still thinking about Nick. I tried to imagine who I would rather be coming home to--Nick or Jason. Both had their flaws, but both had something about them too. Nick drew me in like a moth to a light. Why wasn’t the memory of the burn enough to keep me away? I had to have evolved beyond a moth.
I opened the refrigerator taking a big slug of my Evian water. I never really cared about name brands or anything like that, but I loved the wrapper. My father used to tell me, “spend money on anything that makes you happy” and at this point, water bottle wrappers do the job. Sad or Simple, I’m not sure. I looked down at Bachi who sat attentively on his heels, eyeing the water ruthlessly, his mouth shut in concentration.
“Are you hot, Bachi?!” I teased, leaning down and rubbing his sides vigorously before moving underneath his chin. He whined happily, rolling over onto his back, his legs sticking up. Dogs were so easy to please, all he wanted was a little love, some good food, and long walks. I pulled his water dish towards us and poured the rest of the Evian inside, “You’re spoiled Bachi, very spoiled,” I smiled, watching him lap up the water happily. My phone started buzzing on the counter and I jumped in surprise. I grabbed it, “Hello?”
“Delaney?” An unfamiliar voice inquired.
“This is she.”
“It’s Kevin, the owner of the bar you hate.”
I laughed, “I hadn’t expected you to actually call, doesn’t that go against bar dating ethics?”
“Well, your eyes made me want to bend those rules a little bit. How are you?”
Cliche. Very Cliche, “That’s a line I’ve never heard before. I’m good..and you?”
There was a brief pause, “Good, now that I’m talking to you.” I could hear the smile in his voice, “Have you heard that line before?”
I laughed, “So you’re that guy? Not sure I can go out with that guy.”
“Ha, that guy? No. Kevin Reese. The one and only.”
I raised an eyebrow, cocky. “Well, Kevin Reese, the one and only, what do you want? I’m in the middle of something,” I lied, staring down at Bachi who was anxiously awaiting his treat. I walked to the pantry, Bachi stood behind me, licking the trickle of sweat that ran down the back of my calves, I shooed him off, not wanting dog slobber in addition to the hour long run’s sweat.
“What are you in the middle of?”
“Very important things.”
“You sound out of breath..been saving the orphans?”
I ignored his comment, opening the bag of dog treats, “If feeding my dog counts, yes.”
He laughed, “What kind of dog is it? I didn’t take you for a dog person.”
I paused, not sure if that was really a compliment, “Well, he’s big..kind of a golden retriever, lab, kind of dog.” Bachi took the treat from my hands, tired of waiting, and trotted off to indulge himself on his big bed in the sun spot.
“Really? Are you sure it’s not some tiny ass dog that you carry in your purse?”
I smirked, thinking back to the woman stuffing her poodle in her purse, “Can’t say that I am. Anyway, enough about my dog, what do you want?” I said, I didn’t feel like having a long drawn out conversation.
“You. Maybe dinner.”
Both my eyebrows raised, “God, you’re forward. Do you have an off button?”
He laughed, “I’m kidding, but I would like to take you to dinner.”
I shifted my weight. Nick..Jason..Jason..Nick...men were overcomplicating my life as it is. I looked over to Bachi, and then around the sterile apartment.
“It can’t be that hard of a decision. I’m a fun guy, free dinner..what’s there to think about?”
I smiled, rolling my eyes, “Okay, sure. When did you have in mind?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? You know you’re supposed to ask a girl out 3 days in advance.”
“Maybe that guy does, but me, I’m taking a risk. Maybe I can’t wait 3 days to see you.”
“You’re laying it on thick.”
“Is it working?”
“Ugh, you’re incorrigible.”
He mimicked me, “Ugh, you’re using words elderly women use.”
I laughed, “Now you’re insulting me?”
“Easy target.” I could tell he was grinning.
I nodded, that was true. I sighed, I knew that Kevin was different from other guys I had dated, but not in a good way. Normally, I avoided guys like that as if they had the plague. If a guy was this smooth and forward on the phone, imagine how many girls he was practicing with. The rational part of me said no, the lonely part said yes.
“Just say yes.”
I bit my lip, take a risk, “Fine. What time?”
“7.”
“But that’s like an hour from now.”
“How long does it take you to get ready? Can’t take you that long, you’re beautiful.”
I laughed, thinking I had been secretly wanting to pick the perfect outfit and take my time getting ready. “I move slow.”
“I’ll let it go this time..7:30.”
“Deal.”
“Where?”
“Can’t tell.”
“And, why not?” I asked, hurrying to the bathroom to turn on the water. An hour and half didn’t give me much time to paint my nails, style my hair, pick out a killer outfit, and well..accomplish total physical perfection.
“Gotta keep that air of mysterious, element of surprise.”
I laughed, “Well, should I dress casual or what?”
“Whatever you want.”
I rolled my eyes, guys never got it. Women can’t just wear whatever they wanted--we have to plan an outfit according to the activity. If I’m going to the movies, jeans and a cute blouse do the trick, if we were going to a nice dinner--heels and a summer dress would be better. We need to know these things, trust me.
“Okay I give up,” I surrendered. I gave him the directions to my townhouse and hung up the phone. I raced back to the bathroom, throwing my clothes off as I went, time definitely wasn’t on my side. I let the conditioner sit on my hair, debating whether or not to shave my legs. I had just shaved yesterday, but what if he went to brush my leg and they weren’t as smooth as normal? But, it was our first date, what would he be doing touching my legs? Shoot. I decided it was better safe than sorry and shaved everything, lathering myself up in my coconut body wash afterwards. I smothered my skin in the lotion companion to my body wash, letting my hair air dry while I did my make up.
After I had finished styling my hair, leaving the rollers on the back to give my hair extra volume, my nerves started getting the best of me. I had somehow managed to start sweating, rushing to get ready. I looked at the clock by my bed, 6:45. I put my iPod in the speaker system, turning up The Darkness. I shimmied back to my bedroom, rough housing with Bachi along the way, belting the words to “I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” Nerves, forgotten. I danced inside my closet, pointing to my dresses as if they were an audience. I selected a strapless white cotton dress that outlined my body and gave me subtle cleavage. I slipped my silver sandals that buckled around my ankle from the shoe rack, tossing them by the bedroom door and put on matching accessories. Very casual, but very bohemian sexy. I managed a rocker guitar move as I snatched my creamy leather shoulder tote, putting all the necessities--sweet non-sticky lip gloss just in case we kissed, a tiny perfume, spearmint gum, hair tie, and comb--in the bag. I stood in front of the mirror, inspecting myself carefully--not a hair out of place. You know those days where you just look pretty? Well this was one of those rare perfect days. I was glowing, maybe the endorphins were still going from the afternoon run. I looked at the clock 7:15. What was I forgetting? Something was missing but I couldn’t figure it out. I moved around the apartment, tidying things up, singing to Bachi at the refrain. He tolerates my eccentricities, and I think he has a performer inside him as well because he was running around the house, getting low on all fours, wanting to play. I sprayed some Febreze, spraying it in unison with the backbeat. I gained momentum and then slid across the floor, spraying it behind me. I put the Febreze back on the shelf in my closet,
“Is it just me or am I all on my own again?!”
I sang, shutting the door behind me. I stopped in front of the vanity, putting on my deodorant, raising the roof while I waited for it to try--nothing worse than when it somehow manages to clump. These are the moments I’m glad I live alone, if anyone saw me performing my get-ready dance routine; I’d be single for-ev-er. I spritzed my neck and wrists with perfume, then spraying it into the air, I stepped under the mist. My mother used to do that, and I always thought it looked so elegant. The knock at the door brought me back to reality--shit! I looked at the clock, 7:24, he was early. You don’t want a guy to be really late, but you don’t want him to be early either. I listened to the music blasting from iPod, frozen. The opening guitar riffs of “One way ticket” were echoing throughout the apartment. I slid to the front door, opening it, as the refrain started playing, “my heart was under attack, one way ticket to hell and back.”
My breath caught in my throat. He was propped against the doorway, one arm resting against the door jam. He was wearing medium wash jeans with a nice leather belt, a white polo that hung loosely on his muscled frame and converse. His eyes were an incredible green, looking me over, pulling his hand to his heart, “Wow, that’s quite a dress.” I smiled, opening the door while Bachi rushed out from behind me to jump up on Kevin. “Bachi!” I yelled, tugging him backwards, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t teach him manners.” I laughed. Kevin laughed too, much to my relief, patting Bachi comfortably. His eyes moved around my apartment, inspecting things critically, I rushed over to the iPod to turn it off. It was just Kevin, me, and Bachi in the quiet of the apartment.
“You like the 80’s?”
“Oh,” I laughed nervously, “It’s not 80’s..it’s The Darkness.”
“Sounds like the 80’s. Nice socks by the way.”
That was what I had forgotten. I looked down at my hot pink and turquoise socks. I laughed, sitting down on the couch, tugging them off and putting them into a ball. Although my feet were now baby smooth from soaking in lotion, my sexy persona was obliterated. I looked up at him, he smiled and said “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” His eyes sparkled, offering his hand to pull me up off the couch. He did so, effortlessly, I fell into his chest. He looked down at me, it felt like I had hit a wall. He put his finger underneath my chin and leaned down to kiss me. When his lips hit mine, I felt a surge of electricity tingling my lips. My brain told me to pull away and be a lady, my body told me to take his clothes off. I groaned in defeat, pushing him away breathlessly, “Now, now. Slow down.” I laughed, putting my shoes on, trying to come back down from the clouds.
He smiled, staring over at me. I couldn’t figure him out--he was so sexy, but he was fun too. I liked that he gave me a hard time instead of just bending over backwards to make me feel like I was a perfect creature. Does that make sense? You know when a guy basically worships you? I hate that. I’m far from perfect and will be the first to admit it. There’s nothing wrong with accepting my flaws, finding me lovable, but don’t make me seem infallible--because I’m not.
I stood back up after fastening my sandals. He towered over at me, I mentally noted I should have worn pumps with my dress.
“How tall are you anyway?”
“6’5.”
6’5” inches of perfection, luckily I managed to conceal my delight. I loved tall men, there is nothing sexier than being with a man who can man handle you. I shook my head, shaking away the thoughts, putting my purse on. I stood at the door, he was busy playing with Bachi.
“I love your dog, what’s his name again?”
“Bachi.”
“As in the ball?”
I shrugged, “He was a gift from some family friends.”
“You didn’t change his name?”
“I don’t believe in changing people.” I said nonchalantly, picking the keys up off the rack between the kitchen and living room.
He smirked, “But it’s a dog.”
I shrugged again, “I think he’s more like a person than a dog.”
Kevin stared down as Bachi rolled around on his back, treat hanging out of his mouth happily. “Huh.” was all he managed.
He followed me down the stairs, “My car’s the black one on the right.”
He had parked next to my white BMW, which unfortunately was practically diagonal in the spot. If I had been trying to get into my car, I wouldn’t have been able to open the driver’s side door. He had managed to park his Range Rover inches from mine. That guy would drive a Range Rover.
“Yeah, that guy took up like 2 spaces, I had to wedge in because there weren’t any open spaces.” I crinkled my nose, why hadn’t I parked in my garage? Now he knew I couldn’t park. I opted not to say anything, hoping to put off any more embarrassment.
“Sorry, just wait while I back out.” He said, brushing my back as he walked passed. I smiled as he craned his neck out the window as he reversed, “How am I doing?”
He was cutting it close, the worst part was that he was cutting it close to my car. I sucked in air as he reversed cautiously. This was ridiculous. As he was about to scrape my car I said “Stop!”
He looked out the window at me, “Too close?”
I ran up the driver side window, “Confession. It’s my car. I’m going to move it. Just stay where you are.” Before he had time to make a comment, I climbed in my car through the passenger side window and reversed out, pulling it into the garage. I shut the garage door and jumped over the sensor--far from graceful. I opened the driver said door and hopped into the passenger seat, he stared at me with a smirk on his lips. “So far, not impressed with your music, socks, or driving.”
I smirked, “Well, then it can only go up from here.”
He laughed, I realized we were heading to an area of town I wasn’t very familiar with, “Where are we going?”
“Surprise.”
“Hmm...you’re full of surprises.”
He smiled widely, “First, how hungry are you?”
I thought about it, not feeling very hungry from nerves probably, I hadn’t eaten anything besides yogurt and toast, “I’m alright for now, but I’ll definitely want to eat at some point.”
“Good, then, we’re here.” I looked around as we pulled into a parking lot--we were at a miniature golf course, flooded with children. I couldn’t believe it--this was the last place I had expected to go, pretty original. “Are you ready for it, Delaney?” he inquired.
“Born ready.”
“That’s my girl.” He said, parking and jogging lightly to open my door, “Why thank you.” He smiled again, shutting it behind me, “Just a way to check out your ass.”
I rolled my eyes, half-gentleman, half-jackass. He paid and the girl behind the counter extended our putters towards us, “What color ball do you want? Pink?” he asked.
“Pink? Psh. Give me the blue one.”
He laughed, tossing the blue ball at me, “Blue balls...better for you to have it than me.” He winked, picking the pink ball, “I’m man enough.”
I rolled my eyes, cliche blue ball joke--but I was entertained that he opted for the pink. Full of surprises and contradictions.
We meandered towards the first hole, a seemingly straightforward shot, a hole at the top of the hill that was surrounded by two others, that would ultimately drop it farther away from the hole at the bottom level on the left.
“You a golfer, Delaney?”
My father and I had played in father-daughter tournaments since I was 5. Golfer was an understatement. I played innocent, “I play every now and again. You?”
He laughed, “Let’s just say, I could teach you a couple things.” I smirked, his confidence remained unfaltering. “Let’s make a bet.”
“What’s the best?” I said, resting my weight on the putter.
“I win, you show me your bedroom tonight.” My eyebrows raised, incredibly forward...not that it hadn’t crossed my mind.
I scoffed, “You wish.”
“Not up for a challenge?” he said, whispering in my ear as he grazed passed me.
I contemplated, he could be as equally talented as I was in the golfing area, but I had never lost a miniature golf game except to my father three years ago, and that was a fluke.
“What about..when I win?”
He laughed, “Dream on. Then..I show you my bedroom.”
“You’re going to have to try harder than that. I’m a lady.” I teased, shoving him lightly in the chest as he approached me.
“Hm, fine. If I win, you show me your bedroom, if you win, drinks on me whenever you come into the bar.”
I laughed, “I’m never going to your bar again.”
“I’m hurt.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.”
We shook hands and he offered to let me go first, I insisted he show me how it’s done. He took a practice swing, having a mock serious stance. I laughed, leaning up against the post where you write your scores. He tapped the ball, it went half way and then came rolling back down the hill. He jumped in frustration, laughing. He picked the ball up and put it infront of my lips, “Blow on it, for luck.”
“But you’re the competition.”
“Please.” He said, his eyes sparkling.
I laughed, blowing on it lightly as he went back to the green patch. He looked at me over his shoulder, “Are you checking out my ass?”
He looked so silly on the put-put course, towering over everything, like Hulk from the cartoons. Not as big, and definitely more handsome. I felt lucky to be seen with him, better looking than any guy I had seen in a long time.
“Just put.” I finally said, trying to appear serious, even though a smile crossed my face.
He finally made the hole after 3 strokes, I had waited until he had finished because he took up too much space. I took my stance, eyeing the hole critically. “Why so serious?” He mimicked, in the same intonation as The Joker from Batman. I laughed, “Don’t mess up my concentration.” I said, wagging my finger at him. He came over and stood behind me, moving his hands around my hips, “Spread your legs...you know for a better stance.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, tapping his foot with my putter, “I think I know what I’m doing..” He smiled, leaning back, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “I think so too.”
I smiled over at him, then looked back at the hole. I made contact with the ball, just hard enough so that it went into the middle hole, he took a breath, “NO!” and we scurried to watch the ball trickle out of the spout and slowly into the hole. I jumped, “Hole in one!” he laughed, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder, “That’s it! We’re out of here!” he joked, eventually putting me down after he ran with me for a little bit, little kids were giggling and running around us, dazzled by his size. They probably recognized him because the little boys were tugging at their parents shirts.

I hate to tell you this...

Alright..yesterday I went to my program’s website to see what other countries were offered..I landed on Chile. I apply in September and would leave in February. I’m not sure how long it is or anything..but on our drive to Almeria..it keeps coming up in my mind. I’m thinking..if I don’t find a job that makes me happy, then I’ll go to Chile. I’m still going to apply to grad school at U of A, and after mulling it over..I’ll decide what to do. It’s on my mind, and I just can’t shake it.
You’re currently missing out on a little thing called Bus Karaoke. Priceless--I’m on a bus full of spanish teenagers, singing their hearts out. The current song is “Asereje” by Las Ketchup. I filmed a little snippit of “mamma mia” for you..just so you guys don’t miss out. I love these kids, they're priceless.

I find myself..just sitting. I just got home from the trip to Almeria--and I keep getting lost in my thoughts. Thoughts of home, thoughts of goodbye, thoughts of leaving.
Packing and Saying goodbye are similar in a way--in both cases, you have no idea where to start. I remember crying when I was leaving home, and now I’m crying while leaving my new home. Life.
I was riding on the bus, looking over the endless fields, and thinking about coming back to teach in Posadas but living in Cordoba. It was strange, to seriously contemplate such a big life change..I would have never thought about it before.
While we were on the bus, the students made a pseudo “good-bye speech” to me, and of course, I cried. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it--it was a really nice gesture and Antonio reiterated, “This is the end.”
Endings are never easy. The End implies a loss of sorts. I’m feeling all types of losses--the loss of the proper words, loss of a big adventure, loss of a separate life. Why do things have to end? Because I suppose, every beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. Am I ready to come back? The answer is I don’t know. I’m not the same person I was when I left. The person who left was scared shitless of change, life, relationships. Me, now--well I’m not afraid, I’m aware. I’m allowing myself to feel the roller coaster of emotions associated with this loss, instead of forcing a smile and pretending it’s not happening, that the wheels of change aren’t moving. But, they are, and I’m along for the ride, but I can’t help but look in the rear view mirror--knowing what..who.. I’m leaving behind. The airport awaits me in just a few days..and it’s a long trip--alone.

I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I can’t bring myself to sit down and pack at the moment, I already cleaned the bathroom/kitchen..started laundry...and now I’m thinking about baking brownies. If I stay still, stay thinking, the thoughts become overwhelming. I know if I called the girls right now, they’d make me feel like coming home is the right thing to do, that I’m not as separate from everyone as I sometimes feel..but right now I feel like I’m really alone (not lonely) but alone. It’s not a feeling I want to feel again, it’s disconcerting. I feel bad even writing it. Like I said, roller coaster of emotions. How is it, you can be so happy but so devastated about the same event?

Suitcases? Packing? WTF

The suitcases are out. Some things are packed. The room is hot. Clothes are hanging outside. I made cookies..or some version of cookies. I haven’t packed yet, but I’m getting to it. Some things are in motion, while others are on pause. I’m not sure if I’m in motion or on pause..yet. Maybe both.
I just took out my Lonely Planet guide to Andalucia and read about Almeria. Almeria is known for it’s massive watchtower, the grand Alcazaba, which is the only remaining Islamic monument. There is also a little place that’s called “little Hollywood” because many Westerns have been filmed there, vamos a ver. After that, we are staying in Roquetas de Mar, which contains the quiet beaches of Parque Natural de Cabo de Gata. Cabo de Gata is where I have wanted to go since January--I’m so excited that I got the opportunity to see it. Eugenio, Laura’s father (the girl I tutor) wrote 2 books about the vegetation there. There are volcanic hills and it has turquoise water. We leave tomorrow at 8 AM, I’m going to wake up a couple hours before to shower and finish packing. I’m so tired of packing. I contemplated staying in Posadas this week after the my epic trip to Morocco. But, I decided I want to see as much as I can--so I unpacked, did laundry, and am in the process of repacking and packing for home. Packing is the w-o-r-s-t.
Our trip was so much fun. Laura, Eli, and Felisa are so funny and vibrant. Laura and Felisa radiate happiness, it’s contagious being with them. Eli is priceless, she could strike up a conversation with anyone--her face lights up when she’s talking and laughter comes easily when you’re around her. The first morning, we woke up, echoing “Tengo sueno” (I am sleepy!) but I opened the curtains to look out on the ocean and we both fought our tiredness, showered, got ready and went to wake up Felisa and Laura. Laura scrambled to the door, still sleeping, and was so confused that she had somehow overslept. As Eli and I waited in the hallway, dressed and ready to go, Eli realized she had made a terrible mistake--she never changed her cell phone and it was only 7 am and not 9 am. We all had a good laugh when Laura came out with her clothes thrown on, rushing because she thought she was late. Eli had a big blonde moment.
For breakfast, it’s basically a carb-lovers dream and a dieters nightmare. You get a massive plate of different types of bread (croissant, wheat bread, pastries, etc) served with orange juice and coffee. The first day we went to Asillah, a coastal town, where the level of poverty was present. That evening we toured around Tangier, in the center, you can feel the poverty, especially in the bustling Medina. It’s overwhelming. You can’t move without almost being hit by a car or another person. The amount of activity is incredible. After an hour or so of walking around the vendors, we left to have dinner at a really nice restaurant that had singing and dancing. The next morning we did a legitimate tour of Tangiers, I was amazed that once we left the city it reminded me of the Hollywood Hills, it’s called a little California. The mansions are incredible, Princes and Kings live there, but you can buy the house for 30,000 euros. Can you imagine? It occurred to me that I could buy a mansion in Tangier. Literally, a mansion. I was offered many camels, maybe I’ll take someone up on their offer (Really, truly, “30 mil Camels!!”) It actually happens. We rode Camels, except for Eli, and it was so strange and random. I was afraid of them at first, the baby kept coming up to me when I was getting on the other one. Laura’s camel was going crazy, talking and yelling. Mine was more docile and Felisa ended up getting on with me because I was afraid to be alone. It was definitely a crazy experience--just like a roller coaster, once I was on I loved it. One thing I don’t understand is why all of our pants were soaked with water..do the camels sweat that bad or were the blankets wet? Anyone have an answer?
By the time we made it back to Tarifa, and drove back to Posadas I was so completely tuckered out. I was speaking in Spanglish, full on Spanglish. After Eli dropped me off, the light in the apartment building wasn’t working. So I traversed the three floors in total darkness, eventually giving into using my small cell phone as a flash light. Apparently, I was so put off by the darkness and sleep deprivation that I left my keys in the front door all night. Incredible, really, truly, I can’t believe I did that. Especially because Will didn’t come back until tonight. I had lunch at Alfredo and Maria’s and they teased me, he said “you were inviting all of Posadas in!” --be careful with your keys when you’re exhausted and freaked out lol.
To sum up Morocco--it’s brightly colored, busy, exotic, exciting and overwhelming. Most of the people we met were really helpful and incredibly nice, but walking in the street can be exhausting--people are always asking you to buy something and the children selling things in the street break your heart. I was happy to come back to the slower pace and quiet of Posadas, even if it just for one day.
Feria is still going on this weekend in Cordoba and I think I’m going on Friday and maybe Saturday. I have to buckle down and pack up this weekend..so depressing. I told Maria I wanted to cook a big dinner on Monday, mexican style, and bake some brownies.
When I was running tonight, heading towards Sunset, I decided I want to find time to take photos of my running route--it’s life changing. The sierrezuela is so peaceful and green, the smell of pine trees surrounds you, and the steep hills bring a unique burn to your legs and lungs. I also like running through the golden farm fields before, the grass is as tall as me, and the roads are unpaved. Then, when I finish, I run through the outskirts of town and then ultimately down the main street. It’s a little bit of everything. Nature Reserve, Farm Fields, Town. I’m bringing my running shoes because I want to go running along the beach in Cabo de Gata. I”ll make time, because I don’t think there is anything as exhilarating as running along the beach in the morning, just you and the waves.
K, now it’s really late and I haven’t eaten dinner or packed at all. Typical. See you in 1 week.

1 week.

You may wonder, 'How can I leave it all behind if I am just coming back to it? How can I make a new beginning if I simply return to the old?' The answer lies in the return. You will not come back to the 'same old thing.' What you return to has changed because you have changed. Your perceptions will be altered. You will not incorporate into the same body, status, or world you left behind. The river has been flowing while you were gone. Now it does not look like the same river

It's a funny thing about comin' home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You'll realize what's changed is you.

Along the way you bump into people who make a dent on your life. Some people get struck by lightning. Some are born to sit by a river. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim the English Channel. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people can dance.

For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again

Vamos a AFRICA!

Alright, I'm bubbling over with excitement. I didn't think it would be possible for me to touch ground in Africa this Euro Trip..but sure enough it's happening. I'm going with Eli, Laura and Felisa. We are leaving from Posadas at 3 pm today..and I still haven't packed.

I have this picture of Lenna and my Grandma riding a Camel--they looked so glamorous, I can't pull that off, but I'm really excited to ride one, just because it's so random. Haha, perfect timing, Nick just wrote me on fb and said that I need to make sure the price is discussed BEFORE I get on the Camel..AND I need to bring a fly swatter. Priceless :)

If you never hear from me again it's because I gave into the dream of becoming a Queen of an African Tribe. Or, perhaps the teachers got greedy and sold me into white slavery. Vamos a ver.

Te echo de menos, una semana mas!

Glee Cast?

So I was just perusing the itunes store for any and all music I missed out on in the past 2 months..and I stumbled upon a little taste of hell. Glee Cast? Why are they famous? Why are they destroying previously quality songs? Don't stop believing? No..please just stop singing.

Goodbye...there's just no sadder word to say

Well, in case you were wondering how much I've actually changed, I started crying at school today. Yes, it's official, I, Courtney Emert, have emotions. I don't know what happened, last night I was laying in bed, looking around at my things..and this life I've created here and I got really sad. It all started because David, the student I play tennis with during the week, was horrified when I told him that I wasn't going to be here next year. He thought I was teaching here permanently and asked me to find a way to stay. It about BROKE my heart. It's an incomparable sadness, I've never had to go somewhere..establish a life..just to leave again. I knew this would happen, I told you this would happen, and why is it, all the while, knowing this would happen--it's still so hard?

Thank God for Maria Bravo, she told me what I would have told someone else, "We don't need to say goodbye, it's see you soon." I hate goodbyes, I've hated goodbyes since I was little. When my family would move, it was an awful feeling. I know I could put a positive spin on this and be the eternal optimist, saying things like "People are only a plane ride away" and that's very true..I know that and believe it..but sometimes, there's nothing easy about goodbye.

Maria also told me to look forward to what I was going home to, to lessen the pain of what I was saying goodbye to. In perfect timing, out of the blue Chris Waters fb chatted me and said the most randomly perfect thing:

"You know. I consider myself a pretty athletic guy. But that workout you put me through my freshman year was the hardest work out of my life. My abs were still sore 4 days later. I thought you'd like to know."

It was the out of left field and really made me laugh, good times.. genuinely "buena gente" as they say in Spain.

Likewise, I'm getting really excited about my first phone calls to be made from my english phone in Philadelphia.."It's MEEEEEEE!" I can't wait to hear your hellos after having said all my goodbyes.

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. ~Charles M. Schulz

I have to tell you, I'm currently lounging on one of the comfy chairs with my feet propped up on the table, Eli is grading papers next to me and we are making plans for going to Pizza tonight. Maite is joking about eating caracoles because I told them they are eating little aliens, and she said while I eat pizza she's going to eat los cuernos, the horns (you know..the horns ontop of the snail?) What a random conversation..but those are the best kind.


Alright, to sum this up--we all hate saying goodbye. Whether it's temporary, for a few months, or in the worst case scenarios for a longer time. Because there is nothing fun or easy about having someone we love faraway, but we love them, so we do our best to put on a brave face (it's easier to say goodbye to someone who isn't crying..wouldn't you agree? but harder for the other person who is trying not to cry). We do crazy things like that for people we love.

I thought about writing a letter to the teachers, because I'm much better on paper than in person--but I think it's better instead, to make sure that when I say "I'll be seeing you", I need to mean it. Part of me knows, that I'll be back in Spain soon. It's too much a apart of me now to not come back. Maybe you'll be with me next time, life is unpredictable that way. I'm happy to come home, I've missed you.



Quotes that sum up my sentiments on goodbyes:

Para enero: Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes. ~Henry David Thoreau

Para febrero: Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. ~Kahlil Gibran

Para marzo: There are no good-byes, where ever you'll be, you'll be in my heart.- Ghandi

Para abril: Missing someone gets easier every day because even though it's one day further from the last time you saw each other, it's one day closer to the next time you will.

Para mayo: How lucky I am to have known someone who was so hard to say goodbye to.

Para junio: I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. ~Gilda Radner

Laughter is the shortest distance between two people. ~Victor Borge

The better part of one's life consists of his friendships.
- Abraham Lincoln

Limbo?

I had a moment of nervousness--the familiar, uncomfortable kind that bubbles up in your stomach and makes your heart skip a beat. Just for a second, you are unsure and unsteady. I haven't experienced that feeling in a long time.

The feeling has more or less passed. I've attempted to practice a new outlook on life--hit the ground running and hope for the best. Becoming an adult has always made me..nervous. I prefer to spend my time in a world I create, writing and ruminating. It's much easier than living and working. Obviously. Now, that I've successfully navigated the complicated world of occupations--I've landed on teaching, definitively, and feel that it will not only challenge me, but provide a source of income while I struggle to write. Starving artist, I always thought that implied a lack of talent, now I see it's more than just that.

I started thinking about home; it has recently dawned on me how much I've changed, now it's also starting to dawn on me that things have changed at home as well. Big things have happened, and it's as Wilson said they happened, in my absence. Maybe home won't be as different as I expect. Will I fall back into my old routine with ease? Or what if, as I fear, there is no longer the place I feel at home? I just re-read that last sentence, I meant to type "it is no longer" but I said there. Is that it? The underlying sentiment..that I don't have a place where I feel like I belong? I've been equating my current situation to limbo. For the past few months, I haven't felt quite at home in Spain because I knew I would be leaving, but I haven't thought of Arizona as my home because I'm not really there, either. How interesting. Here's a thought--home not as a physical destination, but an emotional one. I love the poem "I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart" by E.E Cummings because it's true..it raises the idea that 'love' and 'relationships' transverse physical limitations. Granted, there is nothing as comforting as a familiar glance from a friend that says all the words in just a single look. That knowing look. Friends get you, you don't have to explain every thought because they know you. I miss that, that knowing look. That look can't transverse oceans. There are times, will be times, in our lives when we just need that, whatever it may be, a hand, a look--to know that it's all understood.




Quotes for thought:

We have to believe that even the briefest of human connections can heal. Otherwise, life is unbearable.

Living with integrity means:
Not settling for less than what you know you deserve in your relationships.
Asking for what you want and need from others.
Speaking your truth, even though it might create conflict or tension.
Behaving in ways that are in harmony with your personal values.
Making choices based on what you believe, and not what others believe

“The purpose of a relationship is not to have another who might complete you, but to have another with whom you might share your completeness.” -Neale Donald Walsch

“Some of the biggest challenges in relationships come from the fact that many people enter into a relationship in order to get something: they’re trying to find someone who’s going to make them feel good. In reality, the only way a relationship will last is if you see your relationship as a place that you go to give, and not a place that you go to take.” -Anthony Robbins

“Don’t rush into any kind of relationship. Work on yourself. Feel yourself, experience yourself and love yourself. Do this first and you will soon attract that special loving other.” -Russ von Hoelscher

When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you.

Relationships are all there is. Everything in the universe only exists because it is in relationship to everything else. Nothing exists in isolation. We have to stop pretending we are individuals that can go it alone

Trouble is part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough. ~Dinah Shore

Reflection on the Pub Crawl, the Village, and my weird landlord.

Circa 4 pm yesterday; I was contemplating how I went from being incredibly overheated during a long run, to sitting and dethawing in my bedroom after yet another ice bucket shower. Literally, I'd be better off having a bucket of ice water thrown at me. Atleast that way I wouldn't have to nervously..tentatively, stand under the shower head..never knowing when it's going to come crashing down again. There is no having your cake and eating it too when it comes to the freaking shower. I surrender. I tried to imagine I was swimming in the Pacific Ocean..it helped slightly

There has been some progress in the dark abyss, the landlord's father fixed all the sinks and the shower..but now the shower head doesn't stay in the slot and just comes falling. Also, we have no hot water even though the gas tank is new. We had no choice..we had to phone Antonio (Mi Dueno) .

The reputation of my landlord precedes him; he was allegedly the worst student ever to attend the highschool. He and his brother dressed up as Brides for Carnaval, and he's always slightly too intense (like a small child on crack). He'll pop in when he's looking for a letter he believes we've secretly taken, come in to take a box of costumes when the mood strikes him, or if we're really lucky--like yesterday, he'll come waltzing in to fix the heater, cigarette in hand, totally intoxicated. His drunk girlfriend freaked out when he was smoking while messing with the gas tank..can anyone say KABOOM?! Just another day in the village.

Pub Crawl: Epic and Disastrous. We didn't make it anywhere else after the second bar. I was introduced to "rebujito" which is 2 of my favorite things combined..white wine and 7 Up. It was slightly unnerving, hanging out at the bar with Eli, Gemma and Will while my students sauntered by with a massive bottle of beer or drink. Age isn't really an issue in Posadas, so the 15 year olds can hang out at the bar just as easily as an 80 year old man..it's quite the social mix. I made a new acquaintance (who of course already knew all about my running route, my brother visiting, and what kids I teach at the school...rampant gossip in Posadas!) we started out as friends ( I thought he was gay, because he wanted to know if I thought he was handsome..he was a hairdresser, I thought it was safe). I only learned later that he was a complete scum bag, asking me about my sex, drug, and drinking preferences. I pulled the puzzled look card and said "No entiendo, lo siento." and walked away. The worst part is that somehow he has a girlfriend, why do girls date shady guys like that? Yuck. In departing, I left Will to socialize with him. He was appalled that we shared cooking/cleaning/laundry responsibilities--Will rebutted that he was a man of the 21st century. Sometimes, it's like being in the twilight zone here. Posadas is beautiful and quaint..but sometimes the people throw you for a loop. That's why all the teachers live in Cordoba and think Will and I are crazy for taking up residence here. It's been an experience. Also, I've received a couple marriage proposals recently, if all else fails in my life..there's always that lol.

We went to the Patios in Cordoba on Saturday evening with Pilar, Juan Manuel, Maria Bravo, Alfredo, Eli, and her husband. It was a really good time and I actually stumbled upon a flamenco show. That made me happy because I could check it off my to do list. The Patios are usually shared by 3 houses, sometimes it's just one family depending. But the patio is covered in geraniums and usually has a fountain. May is definitely the best month to be in Andalucia, feria is just a couple weeks away! Oh my gosh..I'm coming home in a couple weeks too. Feria is my last weekend in Spain (going out with a bang) and next weekend I'm finally going to Morocco. That tuesday I leave for Almeria, come back Thursday, go to Feria friday and then begin my attempt at packing. Can you believe it? I'll be seeing you very, very soon!

Jamie--that list.

You know when people ask, "what are things you're looking for" in another person? Well I had never really thought about what characteristics in a person I would want/need. In fact, in the past I couldn't even begin to make a list..I had never thought about it. At the moment I'm perfectly fine on my own, I'm happy and content being solo..in the village haha. So, from this contentment, came an honest list. I wrote it really quickly..thus it's honest and straight forward.

My mother has always told me that I need a “strong” man. Emotionally and Physically--push me to be better inside and outside of the gym. I’m an Alpha, so they have to be Extra-Alpha--I don’t want a man who will let me walk all over him--we need to be equals.
Be passionate, about your life and your ambitions, but passionate enough about me to keep a nook for me. A thinker, a dreamer.
Outdoors are important, keep a pace slow enough so I can keep up, but not slow enough where I feel like you’re babying me. Let me take the lead sometimes, in sports and life. Must like to eat, but be willing to eat low fat ice cream as a compromise. You better eat the rice with your Pei Wei chicken.
Keep your independence, we’re a team, not one person. My friends are my family, hold yours as a priority.
Travel--I want to dig my feet in the sand on exotic beaches and fill my lungs with mountain air on a long run--adventures will be paramount. A hand to rest on mine, lovingly, not condescendingly. Entangled hiking boots, we’re not settling..we’re kicking up dust where we go.
Wine nights..with pizza (classy but fun).
Park where there is a spot, walking is better than waiting. In life and in lots.
Laughter, before bed and when waking--it’s the ointment to all wounds and you can never have enough of it. Must enjoy reading and maybe even my writing. Tell me your stories, I love listening. Hard on the outside, sensitive on the inside. Intuitive, because at the end of the day, you’d understand I need reassurance even though I appear unfettered by life’s hurdles. Believe in me, because I’ll always believe in you.
Have a general sense of direction, you’ll be the only one in the car with it (one word..Texas). Bring me flowers, it’ll mean more than you’ll know. Finally, have a small place in your heart and couch for that fantastic snoring, obese Chihuahua, Bella.

A spur of the moment video contemplation

Time

“Time flies. Time waits for no man. Time heals all wounds. All any of us wants is more time--time to stand up, time to grow up, time to let go. Time.”

The village..god the village.

I feel so disconnected! I don't have internet at my house anymore..thus i'll be connectionless until Monday afternoon. I'm staying in Andalucia this weekend and going to the Patios festival in Cordoba on Saturday afternoon. Next weekend is the big trip to Morocco and i'm really excited. I accidently lied when I said I didn't have anymore trips, I'm going to Almeria with the bachillerato students for their end of the year trip, we're hitting up the beaches in Spain and going to the one I wanted to see the most, Cabo de Gata. Then, a hop, skip, and a few days later I'll be back home in a big comfy bed, texting and facebooking like a normal person.

Jamie asked me what I'm going to do tonight..and I have no idea. The village is getting a little bit dire. I haven't been here on a weekend in over a month so it's almost like readjusting. But, needless to say, I'm really, really excited to be coming home. Jamie told me to make a to do list and then figure out how to execute them on the plane ride home (Amen to that..you're so right). It's almost like having to start life over, all over again. I think I'm ready to come home though, Spain was an amazing, crazy, journey but it's time to get things in motion at home. It's funny, change used to scare me so much, and now I welcome it. Strange, very strange.

I'm listening to kids singing flamenco outside the school--sometimes my life doesn't feel real.

P.S: Will and I watched "No Country For Old Men" a couple nights ago, I thought I was going to be watching a cute movie about old men..not at all. It was pretty much a horror film about a serial killer. Not exactly what I was in the mood for, but nonetheless really interesting--did anyone get the ending? If so, explain it.

I don't pretend we have all the answers. But the questions are certainly worth thinking about."

It just hit me, at 4:35 AM on an overnight bus from Madrid to Cordoba--the book, my book, has been here all along. It’s been bubbling under the surface, hidden in between the lines, waiting for me to stumble upon it in my own time.
It’s more than relationships, it’s life--the complicated, ever changing, obstacle course of finding out who you are. They say write what you know. What I know is, it took me 23 years to figure out what I’m about.
I’m asked which character is which in my book, and the truth is--it’s bits and pieces of everything. When I first started writing the central relationships, I found myself dumbfounded--how was I supposed to write a ‘can’thavehimbutwanthimcrush’ when I’m not that guy? How can I write a good on paper when I’m a girl on the other end? I reached out to my guy friends for input, stumped even further because they aren’t those guys either. I know what it feels like to be on the other side, so I’m writing what I know. I’ve spent my life listening to my friends and their own series of dating disasters as well, creating an accessible library of drama, tears, and lessons.
So, I’m writing what I know. I’m not writing myself or writing my friends, people are too complicated to be summed up neatly on black and white pages, but I’m writing things we all know, my friends and I, and what we’ve all experienced.
The Preface is a big question mark. I’ve struggled with the idea of the grand gesture since the beginning. It’s been lurking behind movie screens and revealing itself in romantic novels for as long as I can remember. It came to me, oddly, on another long overnight bus from Madrid to Cordoba. I was thinking about the “head slaps” of my past, the grand gestures I couldn’t see and the grand gestures I couldn’t make because I wasn’t sure of myself, wasn’t myself just yet.
It took a village to teach me the difference between solitude and loneliness, 7 countries to make me realize nothing can be planned and that I’m more spontaneous than I remembered, several various cuisines to make me acknowledge the truth that things aren’t always what they seem and 5 months on my own to finally believe, “it’s enough, I’m enough.”
So, truth--after the winter of the 100 year storm I lost myself. The cold crept in and froze me in an emotional mine field, never knowing which step was going to take another part of me. I tried my best to keep moving, not wanting confront what was behind me. Two years later, with “too much time to think” I’ve had time to rediscover myself away from the emotional land mines. This is going to sound strange, but I have a vivid memory of meeting with this therapist and her asking me what had changed about me since my Dad... I still don’t know the words to describe that, but I looked at her after thinking for a minute and I realized, “I used to be silly.” It may not seem substantial, but it is. Laughter is the ointment to my wounds, and I couldn’t remember the last time I was genuinely lighthearted and playful. Of course, I have my weird moments --(“You’re so weird” I can still hear Amy saying it haha) but I hadn’t really felt it, in my core.
When I was in Seville in September, I took a picture of two children playing in the street. I love that photo and I didn’t know exactly why at the time. I thought about it and I realized I envied their freedom, how much life they had in them, living in the moment, for the moment.
I think the reason I was so scared to come to Spain was because part of me knew what I would be facing. When I got stitches in my leg, I remember the Doctor telling me, “You need to look at your wound, so you understand what happened. It’s better to know.” I thought he was absurd at the time, but now I get it, we can’t fully heal until we’ve accepted what we’re working with. That scar is apart of me now, I used to feel self conscious about it, but over time it’s healed more and become less noticeable. Somedays, I forget it’s there. We all have weaknesses, but addressing them and accepting them helps us work around them, with them.
For me, sometimes accepting the truth, the reality, can be the most difficult part. I think sometimes we wish things were different so we try and will it to be different instead of acknowledging “it is, what it is” and maybe that’s okay. It struck me Sophomore year of college when I read, “Whatever is, is right” and it still rings true with me today. I tried, so hard to change myself to adjust to my circumstances, instead of just letting myself be in the circumstances. With my Dad, it would be things like “I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I don’t want it to hurt everyday, forever.” We all know I rarely follow advice, I take it and then go with my original plan. I guess this was like everything else, I had to discover the truth in it in my own time, for me; saying it hurts doesn’t make me weak and it doesn’t enable my father, it is what it is, a broken heart. I have a broken heart but I’m still walking, smiling, living. And if I’m not healed wholly now, then I will be soon.
I feel right now, solid. What a strange thing to say, that I haven’t been myself in 2 1/2 years--but it’s the truth, however much I dislike admitting it. Being here, without being able to distract myself, made me get to know myself again. So strange to explain. Anyway, I’m working on writing what I’ve found out about these things, about everything and nothing at the same time.

On People

The night before I was leaving for Paris, a knock at my door caught me off guard as I was heating up some manzanilla (chamomile) tea in the kitchen. I opened it and was surprised to find a stocky, short, older man in leather shoes and a button up shirt carrying a plastic bag of tools, “Buenas Noches!” he declared, kissing me on both sides of my face. He is our landlord’s father and he embodies the Andalucian warmth.
Needless to say, I was relieved and entertained as he started puttering around my JUST cleaned kitchen (phew!) and ranting about how Chinese pipes are cheap and break easily. I just smiled, standing flamingo style in the door frame. Wilson, you’ll be pleased to know I was representing in my 80’s esque nike shorts and a turquoise “Athens Marathon” t-shirt --I normally wouldn’t dress in such bright running gear but doing laundry is a pain..thus I hold out until I’m desperate. Back to the point, we had a leak of an unknown substance in the kitchen. Will and I were both really worried about leaving a growing leak over the weekend while we were in Paris, but our landlord is usually unreliable and difficult so we weren’t holding our breath.
I didn’t tell you, it was already 11 pm at night. So, I’m standing in my kitchen, waiting for him to yell from the bottom floor to turn on the water to see if the new pipe would hold. I would hold the flash light for him and babble on about my favorite places in Cordoba and about my recent travels. He noted that the water barely came out of the kitchen sink (my plight since January) and I told him that we had both just acclimated to the lack of water pressure in the apartment. He waved his finger, offering the Spanish “tsk tsk” and pulled out a pocket knife to scrape the remnants off the filter in the sink...now we have actual water flow to do dishes, madre mia. Next he insisted on tackling the sink in the bathroom and the shower. He went down to his house to see if he had a spare chain for the shower--ultimately, he couldn’t fix the shower but he said he was going to come back with a new chain on Monday..so believe it or not, a few weeks before I leave I might have a proper shower. Just maybe.
Anyway, it was such a strange experience. Normally, when a maintenance man comes to your house at home you barely talk to him and leave him be. In Posadas, we were working as a team until 12:30 am, doing the double cheek kiss, and talking it up. I hope I bring that warmth back home with me, because it’s really nice to feel that connection with another person.
People are just so funny, in subtle ways. I find myself observing people everyday, just watching and wondering about them. There is a woman that lives opposite me in a small house. She has electric white hair, tanned skin, and a dirty apron on every morning. She sweeps her balcony dutifully and then just stares out on the street. I can feel her eyes on me every morning and sometimes in the afternoon when I go running--this is going to sound strange, but I try alternate my dressing styles so she doesn’t think of me as a sloppy caucasian. I feel bizarre putzing around Posadas in my red U of A baseball cap..but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t sport the baseball cap. I feel at home in Nike running shorts and a baseball cap. I don’t know what that says about me.
Another person I often wonder about is the man that sells lottery tickets on the main street. I pass him every morning on my walk to school and he stares at me as I’m walking up but then never says Buenos Dias. I was thinking about saying good morning to him next time I see him, but I always chicken out. Definitively, I’m going to say good morning when I see him on Tuesday..it’s just not right to see someone everyday and not exchange a greeting.
When traveling, I often meet all sorts of people. In Greece, a British boy named Simon will always be in my memories--he was so curious about people because he had been raised in a town of 700 people in Durham. He was one of those rare people that you meet who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body. I also have strange experiences. On a train to Malaga, a man was yelling and ranting for an entire hour. I was getting more and more agitated as time passed, I wasn’t sure what he was yelling about--I thought he was in a fight with someone next to him that I couldn’t see. I looked up because I could feel his eyes on me and when I did-- he was staring at me from across the row--just staring, not bothering to look away, and just yelling nonsensibly. I put on my head phones and tried to not given into discomfort. Believe it or not, he was louder than my iPod on full volume with sound proof headphones. At the end of the trip he gave both Will and I pictures of Jesus..it had a calendar from 2002. Oh and by the way, he was traveling alone. Nice.
On the AVE (the high speed train) to Madrid from Cordoba yesterday, a man decided to interview me. It wasn’t comfortable conversation, it was an interrogation. I don’t know how to explain it. After watching Vicki Christina Barcelona on the AVE, he out of nowhere decided to start asking me questions. He turned to me and said, “Vives en Madrid?” and I told him No, I lived in a small town near Cordoba. He then interrogated, “Que te gusta sobre Cordoba?” as if it was a trick question, I told him I liked many things in Cordoba--for example, La Mezquita and the Alcazar. It was just so strange. He would stare at me intently when I responded, so much so that I felt uncomfortable. Have you ever met those people that just unnerve you? I can’t explain it, because I know the questions sound general enough--but they were intense..he would sit and think before asking me another question in a severe, serious tone. When I told him I was going to Paris, he kept going on and on about how romantic Paris is. I was very excited to get off the train.
I’ve written before about how horribly confusing the Madrid airport is--but to reiterate, it’s a complete black hole. My flight to Paris was on Ryan Air (first and last Ryanair flight..thank God) and I had no idea which terminal it would be out of because it didn’t say so on my e-ticket. I figured I had allocated enough time to traverse the metro from Puerta de Atocha to get to T4 which is about 3 changes in the metro station ( 45 minutes ish). The metro was really hot, and I got turned around at Tribunal station. There isn’t anywhere that says “Nuevos Ministerios” which is the stop I needed to change at to get to the airport--so you have to rely on people who look like they know where they’re going. Every time I take the metro in Madrid, I tell myself that I’m going to get it right this time and not get turned around--but sure enough, every time, at the same station, I get completely confused. But anyway, as I was sitting on the Metro sitting across from the usual PDA couple, (they are EVERYWHERE and it’s exhausting) and to be honest, the past few that have made me feel awkward were American couples. It’s like the girls are marking their territory by being overly affectionate with their boyfriends. It’s probably my own fault, it’s like watching a trainwreck, you can’t NOT look even though you don’t want to, and they probably think I’m eyeing their nerdy boyfriend. Girls. Anyway, I decided to ask the man sitting next to me if he knew the logic to the terminals. He said not really and laughed, but he did say that he thought that Ryan Air was in T2. He was really helpful and even offered to help me carry my bag while I went to ask information. People can be so nice. He also couldn’t fathom that I was living in a village in Southern Spain. He felt really sorry for me--but I told him I enjoyed it mostly. He couldn’t believe that. He then ranted about the Andalucian accent (insert smile here) and he said that he’s sure nobody could understand what a village in Southern Spain is like, especially someone from the United States. I think I agree, I don’t know if you guys can imagine what my everyday life is like here. I wish you were here, to experience this with me. Somedays are more challenging than others, but, the one given in my life is that everyday will be an adventure of sorts.

Paris.

Paris. Magnificent, breath taking, expansive, amazing Paris.

Firstly, I went to the Eiffel Tower. I stood in the grass, looking up at the aged, prodigious structure. It’s unbelievable, you see it in postcards--but in person, it’s completely different, the size is mind blowing.

There’s something magical about Paris, the history is palpable. Walking along the river, staring at the amazing buildings and the looming trees--it’s arresting. Paris is feminine, exquisite, and mysterious.
I was walking down the Champs D’Elyssey when the rain started falling, I opened my umbrella and continued to stroll along the long avenue draped with trees-- I love the smell of the rain. When I reached the Louvre, I shut my eyes tight and reopened them again, just to be sure it was real. I then performed a happy dance on the inside.
Last night, we walked to Notre Dame--intricate and elegant, it’s white and lit up, a stark contrast against the blanket of night. Parisian teenagers were laughing and taking pictures of themselves jumping off the benches with Notre Dame in the background, couples were walking hand in hand, bestfriends were confiding in eachother, and I stood quietly, captivated, awed.
I don’t want to leave, ever. I envy the runners, whose feet push off streets that are hundreds of years old, and whose stretches are done staring at the Musee D’Orsay.

You’ll find me, years from now, enjoying a delicious Parisian pastry while writing my next book where Sartre once sat and contemplated life and existentialism. And that’s that.

Can´t replace something irreplaceable

I miss my friends. Very much. I just wish you guys were here with me, things would be very different. My friends are my touch stones, and each one of them is incredibly special and unique. I love the quote, ¨each friend represents a world within us¨..I agree. There is no substitute for girl time either. Out of desperation, I tried to get Will interested in Sex and the City..it was a no go of course. There are just things you can only do with your best girlfriends..like go to the spa..watch chick flicks..talk about everything and nothing over the phone..shop..mani-pedi dates..etc. I just miss that..just a few more weeks!!

I've also decided definitively that if and when I ever have a roommate again, they have to have similar cleaning habits. Yesterday, I thought about my apartment and I actually got pissed off. So pissed I collected myself and then went for a long, long run. I've pretty much surrendered every room in the apartment except my bedroom. A leak under the sink was pointed out to me..but nothing was done about it. It's just like..but seriously? I understand people who just don't care about cleaning..but I don't want to live with them ever again. I've learned that about myself amongst other things.

I started packing last night just to get rid of some clutter (since I have no form of storage). It was a surreal feeling, putting my things back in my big suitcase--life is in motion once again, the wheels of change are turning. I'm not as freaked out as I thought I would be--I think I miss everyone at home too much to really want to stay here. I love things here, but I love the people at home more.

I'm going to Paris this weekend and am really excited, it's my last trip out of the country (aside from Africa in 2 weeks ). Also, in really exciting news Ebaby might be coming to visit on the 11th-21st! I told all the teachers about her possible arrival, the kids are going to go crazy about her red hair and big blue eyes. I hope it works and I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

See you soon..literally :)

On teaching and trips

Teaching is the only major occupation of man for which we have not yet developed tools that make an average person capable of competence and performance. In teaching we rely on the "naturals," the ones who somehow know how to teach. ~Peter Drucker


Teachers are expected to reach unattainable goals with inadequate tools. The miracle is that at times they accomplish this impossible task. ~Haim G. Ginott


The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery. ~Mark Van Doren

I went to Gibraltar last Thursday with the kids and it was my favorite trip so far, monkeys were going crazy, people were speaking in Spanglish, and the kids were having a ton of fun exploring the caves. Needless to say, 6 hours on a bus didn't bother me at all. Pilar and Juan Manuel are great teachers and the kids really respect them, it was night and day to my last field trip to the Sierra Nevada mountains in Granada with 40 kids alone with me on my bus..they showed me their monstrous side.

Last weekend I went to Islantilla, Huelva with Maria Bravo and her boyfriend Alfredo (I still think of the cream sauce). It was really relaxing, something about falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves. The weather was perfect, in the mid 70s with clear skies. Per usual, I ate a lot of strange food that wasn't especially appetizing, but I did discover that I love, love, love calamares del campo (because it's just onion and green pepper surprisingly) and croquetas de gambas (normally it's ham, cheese and potato, but it was prawn, potato, and a little bit of cheese..you can't really go wrong with that).

We got back from Huelva late Monday night, the next morning Maria Bravo wasn't in school because she was really sick. I taught 3B how to write a letter to an english speaker talking about Posadas, Aljanadic *The school* and how they spend their free time. You wouldn't BELIEVE how difficult it was to teach them. Even though I had written a faux letter with the format on the board..they still couldn't keep the order right. I received several letters with two sentences about "free time." You have to laugh sometimes.

Today, Maria was absent again and I contemplated skipping out on the class to catch up on my e-mails and facebooking..but instead I bit the bullet and went to the loudest class I have, 3A -alone. I was a little more prepared for the problems they would encounter today and we had a really fun class. They tried really hard, which was a pleasant change, and actually wrote really great letters. I'm really proud of my students today and am really, really happy with their progress.

Tonight I have 2 tutoring lessons, one with Laura the 12 year old girl who is really sweet and another one with David, the student from Ecuador who I started playing tennis with. He is failing most of his classes because his schooling wasn't up to the same level it is here. So he's basically in fourth level english when he should be in the beginners english. I'm hoping we can make some progress so he isn't so isolated in english class. Afterwards, we are going to play tennis again..I forgot how tiring an hour of tennis can be. I might go running before, okay, I'll go running before even though it's hot--it makes me feel normal. Juan Manuel claims i'm addicted to endorphins and that's why I run so much. Maybe he's right.

Everytime I'm running here, I think to myself--running is a continual challenge. Every day, your run is going to be different. Sometimes, you could run forever, other days you feel like your legs are cumbersome weights. That's the frustrating part, when they say running is mental--they're right. I've also decided a breeze is a runner's bestfriend.

On my run, I pass sheep..horses..a donkey..a goat..3 peacocks..and several dogs. I also pass construction workers..I'm pretty sure they think i'm crazy to run up a steep hill in the heat..Arizona prepared me well though. Plus, I'm having gym withdrawals..

In other news..that white patch on my face is really annoying. The teachers are in a flurry trying to get me into a doctor/dermatologist..but I'm an American and I went to online to diagnose myself lol. Now i'm just more paranoid then I was before I bothered to look. Whatever, such is life. Anyways, there is a really long wait to see a doctor so i'm going to the pharmacy to talk to someone to see if they can prescribe something to treat it. Hmph.