"I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.”

Alright, I have to tell you, Sedona was a trip. We decided to go to Angels and...Outlaws? I always forget the name.., On Saturday night before leaving bright and early Sunday morning.




It's kind of funny, I somehow manage to appear a party girl via facebook even though I consider myself kind of mellow. Who knows.

Anyway, Angels and Outlaws. Very dark. Very hot. Very epic. There wasn't really anything super exciting besides the fact that we got free drinks..which is the explanation of the random pole dance. One of those, seemed like a good idea at the time moments with my partner in crime. But yeah, we mainly held down the dance floor, warding off creepy creepertons. Pick up lines of the night,

1. me: "I'm sorry, I lost my friends"
guy: "Don't worry, now you've got a new one."

2. guy: "You're the thickest white girl I've ever seen."
me: "I was a curvy black woman in a previous life."
guy: "All I can say is that i've been on tour with Kid Rock..and daaaaamn girl."


Here's the thing..I just feel like people take themselves so seriously out. Nights out with my girlfriends are filled with nonstop laughter, we might even border on too silly sometimes--I.E, doing the robot in the middle of the dance floor.

So the next morning, we packed up our belongings and hit the road on our 2 hour trip to Sedona after stopping at Starbucks and Einstein Bagels. The trip was going along so smoothly until we pulled up to Slide Rock (you must know we went without a map..and had no real idea of where we were going..well navigated Steph!) and they informed us there was absolutely NO SWIMMING at Slide Rock because of Ecoli. I thought it would be funny to barter with the park ranger, "Half price for half the experience?" of course he wasn't budging. I still think it would be entertaining to attempt to barter everywhere as if I was in Africa again.."I'll give you 5.".."It's a set price".."Okay 5.50."

We decided to just show Antonio what Slide Rock looked like before heading down to Grasshopper Point to go swimming. G.P was full so we had to pull over on the side of the road and just find a spot to swim...it was pretty steep and hilarious to watch everyone try and traverse the ledge...but we were ultimately successful.

Afterwards we went to lunch at a yummy mexican restaurant and shared stories about awkward high school memories and embarrassing moments.

The most random part of the trip was when we decided to attend a Psychic Expo.


Apparently Sedona is a "vortex" which still means nothing to me if anyone could explain it..but we all went in, treating it like a joke. After signing up and deciding to go in groups of 2..our nerves started setting in. Megan said she felt really anxious and uncomfortable..I thought for a moment and said.."Oh shoot..me too." It's been so long since I've felt anxious that I forgot what it felt like, how weird is that?

Needless to say, these people take themselves very seriously. We had to flip through a book and pick the Psychic that spoke to us. I made Wilson go first, while Megan and I sat on a bench in the room--shaking from the freezing cold temperature. It was so strange to hear her talking to Wilson about his life..everything was dead on. I started getting nervous..what was she going to tell me? In my hung-over, sun-drained, food-coma'd state of mind..I just decided to grab the bull by the horns and see what would happen. I sat down and she said my aura was yellow..very creative. I told her I was a writer and she seemed really pleased by that, asking what I write about.."Relationships."

I thought I was going to get out of the experience unscathed until she asked me how I felt coming into Sedona. I had no idea how to respond so I just said "Happy?" and she smirked, pointing to the card that was upside down.."You're not in control. You hate not being in control." My hands started clinching my chair..she was calling me on it! I shrugged and said, "Yeah..that's true..." She then asked me something that rattled me, "What happened to you in highschool that changed you?" Before I could think straight I just confessed.."My relationship with my father."

I swear to you, after talking with this woman about my father, I felt like I had been beat up. Emotionally toppled over. I tried not to cry the whole time she was telling me the issues the cards said I had with my Dad (which were all painfully on point) and the worst part was that she said until I had resolution with the situation, every relationship in my life will be like receiving punches on the sore spot of the relationship with my father. She said I need to write my dad a birthday card next year and acknowledge him as my father, even if we no longer have a relationship--to reach inner peace. Wouldn't that be hypocritical? To reach out to a man that shut me out of his life? But, the truth is, I obviously haven't reached inner peace about my relationship with my Dad. The psychic was like, "You're so beautiful and joyful, but you have this dark depression." It was really hard to hear someone say that to me. She also said that I need to work on my inner child and being silly...it made me want to laugh because that is something I've been actively trying to cultivate. I am silly, I'm a total goof ball..but for 2 years I was so serious and down while dealing with my dad.

In truth, I'm just tired of dealing with it. I'd rather not deal with it or think about it. Making the effort to work through it just brings up those memories to the surface. That's why Spain was so liberating--I didn't have to deal with it in front of my face like I do here on father's day or when my dad and my brother are going on a fishing trip.

On the positive side, she said that there will be a resolution. Eventually, I will be able to look at my father and see good things in spite of all the pain he has inflicted on me. Interesting, right? Of course, this will only come after a really rough period of sorting through this.

But, seriously?

I'm tired of talking about it--but in short, the Psychics were totally dead on in dealing with all of us. Especially for Desiree. If anyone knows a gary or greg to have fun with let us know. And, of course if Rob comes back into Stephanie's life in a few weeks..well I'll have to start considering writing my Dad a birthday card. But, I'm not ready to really think of extending an olive branch to my father. The sad part is he will always be my father, but does that mean in order to reach inner peace about everything...I have to make a move instead of just closing that chapter? I wish I knew what to do...how to do it.

Alright, dulces suenos.

I could open a library.

I have way too many books. My desk is rimmed by books; they are stacked on night stands, piling up in bookshelves, and tucked away in boxes. They are bent pages, marked up with notes and pieces of paper, they are unfinished conversations between my Aunt and I. I have this untitled book, covered in floral cloth, that is a collection of William Shakespeare's sonnets. On Sonnet 18, Lenna left a note that reads, "Sonnet 18. Hate that "lose" is not spelled correctly in line 10." It made me laugh because I was just thinking that it bothered me as I skimmed the lines. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree? I talked to my Grandma this morning--she was so happy that I was going to be teaching in the United States. I took a minute to tell her thank you--for how much she had shaped my character, she really instilled an appreciation for literature and traveling in me. She does everything with a smile and puts a positive spin on any tribulation--I hope I succeed in doing the same in my own life. Remember that photo of my grandma and Lenna riding the camel in Egypt? Looking all 60s elegant, etc? Well I had to laugh when I told her I had not come close to inheriting her elegance in my own camel riding adventure




It's just an interesting time of life. To be a grown up in the process of growing up. When I was a little girl I would stare at the exotic photos of faraway lands with a wistful smile--now, I'm able to show her the pictures of my own adventures. I was always the blacksheep of my family when I was little because I was so adamant and resistant towards change and travel. I hated speaking in Spanish during dinner with Lenna--and now here I am, a Spanish teacher, writing about my haphazard excursions and getting my Masters in Education. I have to write a letter of intent for my Masters--about why I want to teach..and I have to tell you, the opening few lines will definitely be about growing up under the wings of two English Professors.

The more I think about life, the more I realize--you really never know where life will take you. Two years ago I was studying for my LSATs, thinking about fueling my writing career with some monetary backing as a divorce lawyer. That life seems so distant, so unfathomable.

I can't help but contemplate how much the people in our lives impact us. I was talking with Wilson last night, and we were just thinking about how far we'd come. When I first met Wilson, I was totally lost. But I think even from the first conversations we had, we knew we could count on each other. Here we are, 3 years later, talking for 2 hours about this crazy thing called life. I just have to tell you, I feel really lucky to have the friends that I do. We are all taking Antonio to Sedona this weekend, and I'm sure it will be a shitshow nonetheless. My friends are do'ers, I love that about them. We talk about doing something the weekend before falling asleep and make it happen the next weekend. Thank god. I'm also really excited to go out on Saturday. We all have a lot to celebrate right now and I'm sure we will do with it a vengeance.

Also, it's Nicky's first night back out on the town, so hooray and cheers to water and diet sprite :)

P.S: I just found that book, "The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz..and I'm telling you..those agreements are worth a read.

Dulces Suenos

Man's best friend.

I'm sitting here on pause. I wanted to write something to ease my mind about my dog, but..

So as I was feeling elated that I found a school that is a perfect fit for me--I am starting as a Spanish teacher at a really great k-8 school in Cave Creek..Antonio called me over because Zeus was seeming to have something like a stroke. I froze, cradling this big dog in my arms just going into Crisis mode. I told Antonio to get my shoes and Zach to grab the car keys. Zach carried Zeus into the car, in a complete panic, and we drove him to the nearest Vet clinic. I was calming my younger brother, telling him to try and speak calmly and pet Zeus. The pain twisted his face and he started to cry. As much as I wanted to start crying too, I told him it's going to be okay and found myself holding it together, somehow. I finally kind of get it--why our Moms are so calm in stressful/scary situations--it's because they are looking out for us, worrying about us before them. I didn't want my brother to get scared so I tried to stay calm. Of course, after I dropped them off in the front of the Emergency, I did the worst, most haphazard, parking job of my life and ran inside.

There's something about seeing your pet like that--I held him on the scale, studying the technicians at the vet's office--almost evaluating their capabilities. We sat in the office waiting for the doctor, three kids just crying and worrying over their pet. It occurred to me that as traumatizing as it is for me to be there, this was probably a normal spectacle for them. We also noted that their are tissues in the office, conveniently located for the heartbroken parents of pets.

I started thinking about how long we've had Zeus, he's 13 years old. We got Zeus when I was about 10 years old and he has been with me through everything. I've chased him on hot streets in the summer when he would go on a Wild Ride, pretended to be a cow girl in a hat standing over his back, dressed him up for Halloween, watched him stretch happily whenever I would stop and scratch his belly (which is about 6x a day), cried in his fur when I was sad, used him as a body pillow, caught him rolling around in my bed when he thought we weren't home, had him sit in my lap whenever I watch TV, secretly fed him scraps under the dinner table (like every member of my family)--he's been such a big part of my family, he is my family. He even has tolerated Bella joining our family..which speaks volumes to his character.

This is hard. We have these animals that are so much a part of us, and I wish they could be with us forever. The worst part is not knowing what's wrong, not knowing what they need. But just like people--their eyes are so expressive, and you know, somewhere deep inside when they are sad or happy. I hated leaving him at the emergency clinic. I hate waiting for them to call me. I hate not being able to take care of him myself. It's the helplessness that gets you. It's having to make the hard decisions.

Think good thoughts for us.

In the book of life, the answers aren't on the back.

I found this quote and it made me smile, a random quote to exemplify my mantra, "no pasa nada"

When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. ~Mark Twain

I think we all spend a lot of time trying to understand eachother, make sense of eachother. I do it often, especially in my writing. I think about character motivations, these carnations in the bouquet of life. But maybe, the underlying joke, has been that we cannot rationalize irrationality. "We are all mad." Don't you think? Sometimes I say things and do things and just cringe in embarrassment or scrunch my nose in regret. Is it possible, life is a series of divine accidents..a series of awkward moments? If that's true, do we just crash in and out of one another's lives? Take a minute and think about the people have influenced you, shaped you in some respect--more than likely you don't talk to those teachers or random larger than life personas. I'm thinking some people are in our lives for a time to teach us something, give us something to take with us.

Maybe it was Spain, maybe it was my being an absent minded professor, but I have not thought about my future income once. I never mentally calculated how much money I would make as a teacher, or wouldn't make, it didn't matter. It didn't and it doesn't. What I learned is that being content is much more important, if you do a job you hate for the rest of your life just to earn money--I worry about your insides, your guts. We all probably could have guessed that personal fulfillment came first for me before compensation when I changed my major to Literature. I decided to feed my mind instead of career path security. I hope you do what you love, rather, I hope you are lucky enough to find and do what you love. This is your life--what are you going to do with it?

I have my first interview tomorrow, as a Spanish teacher. I am also going to a meeting at ASU to talk about my Masters. I'm not nervous, somehow. Antonio keeps telling me, "You will not sleep tonight. I am sure." But I just shrugged, pausing while looking up at the stars and the outline of the trees against the sky--nervousness was nowhere to be found. I just felt..certain..eventually I will find my niche and end up where I am supposed to. When I had to come home from Spain in the fall, I felt like my life was stuck in first gear, little did I know that it would completely alter my experience and the people I would meet. Fortunately, I ended up teaching highschool and discovering where I really belonged. I now say "Everything happens for a reason" backed up by belief. I read Alexander Pope a few years ago, and one of his last lines is "Whatever is, is right." Think about it. I think when we are at a crossroads in our lives, we hesitate--worrying about ramifications. Sometimes in the midst of fear or sadness, we ask how we ended up here. I've thought it many times in the past, worrying..worrying..worrying. Like a book, is everything building off the preceding events to finally finish at the happy ending?

I'll admit this though, I prefer to be in control of my life. I realized recently, when I set my mind to something, when I want something, I have to get it. Maybe to a fault. I'm so stubborn, maybe so disillusioned that I refuse to even contemplate something not working out. Bull in a China shop. Flaw or Attribute? Maybe both.

My friends are all on their own life paths, some moving at a slower pace, others sprinting ahead with their finish line in sight. Some are taking a detour, others are stopping to smell the roses along the road. And me? I'm walking dreamily, having faith I'll find my way.

stumbling upon cause and effect.

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. Delicious Ambiguity.

The answer is always in the entire story, not a piece of it.

Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer’s own life. —Eudora Welt



That sequence? Appearances can be deceiving. I'm fickle. I have a story to tell but find it difficult to put the words on paper. If it takes 20 years to get this story out...I'll be pissed. I guess, in truth, right now I'm so focused on the present and reality that I have a hard time thinking about fictional things. My writing is on pause for a bit.

My head is elsewhere, but I have one thought--Wilson said that when we stop looking for love, that's when things start to happen. But I wonder, is anyone ever not deep down looking for love?

Today is Father's Day. Gets you thinking about the cookie cutter commercial father-daughter relationships. Seeing that..will never not hurt.

Maybe some wounds will never fully heal, maybe part of growing up is learning to live with the pain, instead of pretending it's not there.

Breaking up is hard to do?

Firstly, you must know that when I came back from Spain, I was the only single girl in the group. Luckily, I had my newfound independent attitude in my back pocket. My only other single friend was MIA with Hepatitis A.

For Hep A friend's sake, who is tired of the nose scrunch and disgusted face when she answers why she can't drink alcohol for a year (yes, a year). It's serious-- we must correct a rampant misconception. Hepatitis A is nothing like Pamela Anderson's STD. Hep A is contracted via contaminated food or drinking water. Usually this is common in third world countries--but she got it in Scottsdale of all places. It's preventable via vaccine--think about the importance of hand washing and hand sanitizer.

Alright, moving on.

So I was slightly salty at the idea of being a +1 to my coupled friends. Fortunately, my friends are fantastic at juggling work, relationships, friends and family. I apologize to any of you singletons who are buddied up with PDA, repeat "we're staying in" offenders.

For my welcome home party, we hit the streets of Scottsdale with class and capers. The fact that we drove off with a gas pump is neither here nor there. Needless to say the night was epic, I had so much fun with my friends that I didn't even have time to take note of any guys in my vicinity. For one of the first times in my life I was oblivious to the rampant douchebaggery of Old Town Scottsdale. No primadonna's with over gelled hair, too tight jeans, and ridiculous shoes..because they are..caught my eye.

As I was acclimating to my grown up role as the "single friend"--something strange happened. D's boyfriend broke up with her out of nowhere. In fact, he pulled the biggest douchebag card ever, "I'm anxious and bored." My first reaction was to tell her, "He's bad in bed, has no personality, and rocks the holier than thou attitude with no goods to back it up." BUT, I opted for the more supportive, "I hated him from the beginning. You're better off." We sat at happy hour with a group of girlfriends, listening to the things we always tell eachother, "Take this time to take care of yourself and not have to worry about a guy."

We say all these things, but in truth, the brutal bottom line is that being single is a huge adjustment for a perpetual relationship person. We all agreed that waking up and going to bed are the times you feel that bittersweet ache. But I promise, being able to be on your own is the most important thing a girl can learn. That's when dating becomes on your own terms instead of haphazardly waiting for some guy to call. Nobody wants "some" guy, it's better to wait for "the" guy. No asshole, co-dependent, baby talking, cheap guys need apply when you're content on your own. God I have somehow managed to sound like an angry girl anthem. I literally mean nothing bad by it or have any bitterness towards guys, just "those" guys.

The real shocker is just a couple days later, my other friend was broken up with abruptly. So what's going on? When did it become okay to break up with someone out of nowhere? Don't make anniversary plans you don't intend to keep.

We're big girls now, understanding feelings change, things change..and some people NEVER change.

So here is some break up etiquette:

1. Don't be an asshole
2. Don't do it over text message or e-mail
3. Don't sleep with them within a week of a breakup..shady.
4. Don't mention ice cream.
5. Don't pull the friend's card. Nobody wants to be your friend right after a break up.
6. Don't pull the ever seductive disappearing act (I'm guilty of that too, we all are).
7. Bestfriends are off limits.

That's all I can think of for now..let me know if you have any more break up rules to enlighten the population.

Addicted

I, Courtney Elizabeth Emert-Taylor, am a bona fide spinning addict.

It all started a week and a half ago when I kicked my gym routine into high gear. Needless to say it was humbling at first, It's not easy to explain why you haven't worked out in 6 months to people who are paid to work out. Humbling.

My favorite work out fanatic quote from this week is from my second spinning instructor, "You eat like crap, you look like crap." One woman even confessed to putting butter on her salmon. I made brownies the night before.

Just a heads up.

“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book(Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom(when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this(or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death."

“Even if all these needs are satisfied, we may still often, if not always, expect that a new discontent and restlessness will soon develop, unless the individual is doing what he is fitted for. A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet”


..........will this feeling pass?

Peace Core? Teach abroad in Chile? Stay? Go? Argh.

In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors

It is not the going out of port, but the coming in, that determines the success of a voyage.


Nicky believes that God has a plan for all of us. Since I'm not really religious..I take her word for it. I'm just trying to get an idea of where I belong. It's occurring to me that maybe I don't belong here anymore. It makes me feel guilty to feel like I don't belong at "home" but it's been bubbling under the surface for awhile.

Remember way back when, when I was thinking of Peace Core? Well, we have come full circle back to it. Peace core is for 27 months. From application it takes about 9 months to get going.

I'm aware that I shouldn't make any big decisions right now while I'm transitioning--but why is it all my big ideas right now revolve around teaching/volunteering abroad?

Maybe I'll find a great school here and I'll be content--but tonight, my thoughts are somewhere else. Far away.

See ya jet lag.

I woke up this morning and actually felt awake, I'm slowly adjusting to life at home again. People move a little faster, talk a little mumbled, and drive a little crazier.

I'm evaluating where I am and trying to decide what I want out of my life. Chile is a big option. This is the first time i'm not tied down to anyone or anything in my life. I'm anxious to start teaching..but I'm missing adventures abroad. Maybe this restlessness will pass, vamos a ver. I'm just grateful, after everything, I discovered how much I love teaching. When I was on the rat race mission to get my certification yesterday--I can't tell you how many times people said, "You don't look like a high school teacher." It's funny where life takes you.

Likewise, just a little thought. I have to believe that love is out there. I refuse to accept the notion that 'the big love' is just a dream and reality is finding someone that is stable, family oriented, and kind. I'm in no hurry to find it, likewise i'm in no hurry to settle while I wait, either.

You just have to laugh

It’s kind of funny. In fact, it’s really funny. I’ve come full circle--my welcome home wouldn’t have been complete without an unscheduled travel disaster. The difference, not only did I make lemonade, I made a full on lemonade cocktail.
Let me back up.
So, Wednesday was a roller coaster of emotions. I had my last day at the highschool, shed some tears, said some goodbyes, and left with 2 bottles of Spanish wine...in a bag. Of course, I tried to bottle up all my emotions, sucking in deep breaths of shaky air, blinking back tears. Upon my final goodbye, I extended cards that were written thoughtfully, I hugged tightly, blinked back tears ineffectively, and hurried down the stairs--counting 1 to 10. It’s going to be okay, you’re okay.
I have never walked faster back to my apartment, ever. Once I was in my room, I closed the door behind me, laid down on the bed, looked out the window, and cried. I cried because I couldn’t pretend this adventure only needed to be closed with a smile, it needed genuine feeling too. I will miss you; these exotic places, warm faces, starry nights, running in fields of grass as tall as me, and standing awestruck before things that made me feel small. You have changed me--me de volvio la vida. Thank you. Muchisima gracias.
I went to Cordoba with Maria--a final haphazard Spanish excursion. We went to the mechanic to get her windshield wipers fixed; we stepped out of the car and the necks snapped to attention for a onceover, Rafa came roaring up on his motorbike (mullet flowing behind him) and screeched to a hault, rough housing briefly with the drunk man offering his services (all of them) to Maria. The head mechanic said he could fix them tomorrow, then Maria explained she wanted to have new ones in case it rained on the way to Cordoba--he said in that case, head over to the other Mechanic shop--Chumi (which Maria informed me also means pussy..awkward fun fact) if we wanted them done today. No pasa nada on getting business. We went to Chumi, got them fixed and sped onto the open road.
The rain had passed, the sun was shining, and we were out of gas. We made it about 5 minutes before rolling into Almodovar (the next town with that amazing castle I look at everyday). An elderly woman sweeping advised us the gas station actually wasn’t in the town but along the freeway. She said she didn’t know how to explain or give us directions. We smiled and pulled away before flagging down two men leaving the tennis courts--they gave us better directions and sure enough we made it to the gas station just in time. CONVENIENTLY located between two massive sunflower fields. I darted out of the car, ran across the highway, and snapped photos of the sunflowers. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, bad luck leads you to a field of sunflowers. Sunday adventure..complete.
We went shopping, talked about life and love, shared a croissant and coke, before going back to Posadas to have dinner with Alfredo at..where else..Bar San Francisco. We originally wanted Pizza..but the two pizzerias are closed randomly on Wednesday. Paco was gracious as ever, making croquetas even though they weren’t on the menu, and supplying plates of plenty for my last Spanish meal. Maria laughed as Paco and I exchanged sincere goodbyes and thank yous, she said “He’s like your father!” Paco, the happiest man in Posadas. A small celebrity in my life.
For our goodbye, the one I was least looking forward to, I extended Maria brownies, gave her a big, long hug, and we said “See you soon.” I bounced back up the stairs at 1am, not crying, but smiling--content and excited. I took the longest hot shower I’ve ever had in Posadas, I waited to for the cold water to come--it never did. That’s when I started thinking this might be too easy, to be true. I finished packing, and watched an episode of Sex and the City before deciding at 3:45 to get two steps ahead by lugging my massive suitcases down the 3 flights of stairs to the front entrance of the apartment building (so Antonio and I wouldn’t have to do it at 4am).
It was probably quite a sight, as of the airport check in, my big bag was 74 pounds. The smaller one probably 50 lbs. Not to mention, my traveler’s back pack that is up to my stomach placed beside me, and of course, my laptop shoulder bag..topped with blankie and my favorite pillow. Eventually, after stumbling down in the dark (the lights were on a timer and my hands were full), I had broken a sweat and leaned against my pile--independence.., check.
I gave more brownies to Antonio’s father for taking me to the Seville airport; a man you can tell knows how to have a good laugh. Neither of them were as tired as I was, the Spanish are wired differently, and Antonio had stayed up late studying anyway. We ate the brownies and drove to Seville in the dark, driving towards the sunrise.
We arrived to the airport at 5:15 am. My flight was set to leave at 7:15. After a few travel hiccups (including having to pick up my bags in Portugal and re check-in with U.S. Airways..150 pounds of luggage...yikes). I tried to argue but eventually found myself surrendering, doing the double-cheek kiss “hasta pronto” and struggling to make it through security. I trodded passed puertas 1-7, when I saw her. The unhelpful lady from check-in..”Sorry..the flight was cancelled.” I stared, dead pan. The world stopped moving. “Cancelled?”, “Yes, you need to go down to the first floor and pick up your bags, then come back in to get re-scheduled.” I sighed, putting my weight on one leg..”I’m not going to the United States today, am I?” She shrugged uncomfortably, waving as I stood there--no homecoming? No glorious return? It can never be that easy, can it?”
I called Antonio, it was ironic because I had just been telling him I was praying my flight went off without problems..being the queen of travel complications. They drove back to meet me, to make sure I was getting on a flight--the flight was at 2pm, the next morning flight would be on the 13th of June. I think not. So my choice was to stay in a hotel in Portugal, and then try and figure out my next flights to the United States from Portugal. Portuguese. I think not. I pulled out whatever determination was left, argued with her until I was blue in the face, called the airline..”Sorry, our travel arrangement office is closed.” Que fuerte. I sat--trying to accept the idea that I would be in Posadas again that day as Antonio told me not to worry his Mom was making up a bed for me already. I sighed, looking around me, more goodbyes? No puedo. It sounds strange, but I couldn’t go back--I wanted to go forward. Always moving forward. Even if that means going to another country, not speaking the language, and hoping somehow the travel gods will smile upon you.
5 minutes before the 2pm flight took off, U.S Airways caved in and let me switch my flights without fees and I would be taking the 10:35 flight to Philadelphia from Lisbon, then 3 hours later onto Phoenix. Almost the same as was originally planned after I got there. I had my tentative, shaky travel plans written on a piece of paper by TAP. Antonio stayed until I went through security (1 PM this time) after we had been talking, drinking coffee, and babbling about our future adventures when it comes to the United States. I can’t wait. He was my guardian angel before I left, buena gente to the fullest.
After we landed in Portugal on the smallest, smallest, tiniest, plane I’ve ever been on--a group of us were standing down at the baggage claim, I laughed and said..”I’m not counting on my bags making it..it’s that kind of day.” Somehow, 5 other Americans were on my flight--and we were all heading home after long journeys..Jess and Katie had stayed in the airport over night (Which kicks you out from 1:00-4:30..how horrible?!). A couple from California, the girl had just finished her study abroad in Sevilla and her boyfriend who came to backpack, 2 other teachers from my Program, and another girl who had moved to Spain permanently and had a job in an after school program. We bonded together and traversed the pseudo chaos of the Portugal airport, 3 hours later, sharing cabs to the airport hotel. We decided to go walking around the city instead of sleeping--might as well make the most of it. We shared stories about our excursions, room mates, schools, and lives at home. We all forgot we were stuck there, feeling like we were on a weekend trip with our good friends--it was the oddest thing how well we all got along.
The streets of Portugal are original, all the way down to the groundwork--uneven black cobble stones, narrow streets, and unique characters passing by you. Music surrounds you around every other corner, from folk singers to orchestras playing outside an expensive restaurant. The streets are like San Francisco, and we got an unwelcome leg workout after carrying our bags all day. It’s a different language, but it’s like being dropped into a mix of cultures. It has elements of Paris, London, Greece and Morocco. Difficult to explain, but worth experiencing. The hotel had wifi so I was able to skype my mom finally and tell her I had made it to Portugal but wouldn’t be coming home. She said to have fun and do some sight seeing, home would be waiting tomorrow--like mother like daughter?
By the time we crawled back into our hotel rooms after an unexpectedly elegant dinner, I found myself lulling off to sleep, happy, with memories of the travel disruption and stress forgotten. It felt like I would be going back to Posadas after a weekend trip instead of moving home. Dreams of Lisbon’s ocean view were interrupted as people started making lots of noise in the hallway, yelling and clamoring around. I tried to ignore the sounds, and eventually whipped off the covers, stomped to the door, and said “POR FAVOR! SILENCIO!” I laughed to myself when I laid back in bed--I had reprimanded them in Spanish..not English.
I woke up to tired eyes, a drag in my step, and a giant body ache. I put on my upbeat playlist and took a long shower without worrying about a blast of cold water. We went down to breakfast, ate quickly, and then went back to our rooms to grab our bags. Jess and I teamed up to help eachother. I stood waiting,after she had taken the first set down the elevator, for 20 minutes, waiting for an un-full elevator. There was a French tour group of atleast 100, who stared at me like I was the devil when the doors popped open and I was leaning against my bags. The doors were abruptly shut thereafter.
Finally I made it downstairs, pushing the bags in front of me like two baby strollers, awkwardly. The man laughed, “Is your life in here or what?” I smiled and said..”Basically.”
So, in short, I made it towards the next leg of the journey. I’m in the sky, staring out over the choppy ocean. I’m not nervous, stressed, or afraid. I’m just looking forward to the next adventure, oddly that adventure is home. The girls shared my sentiments about going home--but just like the rest of these past months, I’m going to take it on with a smile, figure it out as I go, and just do the best I can.
I can’t wait to see you. Thanks for supporting me in all this--listening when I was worried and shaken, for understanding me when I wanted to leave, for giving that little push of confidence when I needed it, and for welcoming me back home. I’m thankful, for having people in my life that have a knowing look, a hand to hold, and familiar smiles. Love you, te quiero. And oh my goodness..see you soon!

Funny the way it is

If someone would have told me, that I’d be curled up in bed, staring out over farm fields, crying---I wouldn’t have believed you. This is really hard; I was doing so well and then, these emotions, they just couldn’t be packed up neatly like my things.
I know I can’t stay here, I know it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Life is simpler here, uncomplicated. No one is weighing me down, no problems are chasing me, no heartache is eating away at me. I’m free here. Free. Light. I don’t want to give that up.
I wish you were here, I need that look.
Home seems foggy right now. I keep trying to envision getting off the plane, but I can’t. It bothers me that I can’t imagine home. I keep asking myself the same question, will I be able to go back? Go back...and be happy? It scares me that I don’t know.
I guess it’s because I was in a different state of things when I left, and now I feel really, painfully, genuinely happy. So happy I’m afraid it’ll be taken away. I’m having a moment of fear. I know it’s just a moment, I believe that.
How, how did home become a question mark? I’m nervous. Ashamed that I’m nervous because I know the people I love more than anything are waiting for me. I think once I hear your voices, these fears will go away. It’s hard, not hearing you when I need some reassurance. Home, a hand over mine.
I’m exhausted from goodbye...in desperate need of a hello and a familiar smile.

PS: Don’t hold this against me when I’m smiling so much my face hurts on Saturday.

PPS : I know that I should be embracing my new calm, collected Spanish alter ego. Happy and grateful for this opportunity--looking forward to the unknown and all the wonderful parts about going home. I write it and I feel slightly better, now if I could just believe it. Leaving would be so much easier if I didn’t have to do the goodbyes. Those are the worst. I need to hit the ground running, smiling while I’m at it.

Radiating happiness.--We had a surprise going away party during break and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was surprised when the tears didn’t start falling--I thought it would be really, really, sad to say goodbye--but I found myself smiling because this experience has been the best time of my life. I have no regrets--I really lived here. I looked around at all the faces of the teachers and I was just incredibly grateful to know them, to have shared this period of time with them. They’re amazing people..and really wonderful teachers. I hope to be as good as they are someday.
So, instead of focusing on the sadness of leaving, I’m focusing on the gratefulness I’m feeling. I feel so blessed to have had this experience--me trajo a la vida. It brought me back to life. Spain, them, this. I’m coming home with a big smile on my face, a skip in my step, and Andalucian warmth in my soul.
I’ve learned something from each teacher at the school. Juan Manuel, I will think of your smile when I’m struggling and tell myself, “No pasa nada.” Pilar, whose confident stride puts me at ease, because of you, all this was possible, there are no words to convey my gratitude to you. Maria Bravo, your elegance and strength have inspired me, a palpable presence in every room you enter. Laura, your beauty is second only to your inner beauty, you radiate sunshine, thank you for shining beside me for these last months. Eli--your laughter is ointment to the soul, thank you for teaching me the infamous Spanish “tsk, tsk”--your vivacious spirit is contagious. Maria Jose, you have taught me grace--your patience and tranquility in the classroom is remarkable--I’ll never know how you do it.
Thank you--for showing me the Andalucian spirit. I will never be the same, you have bettered me, challenged me, and taught me. Most of all, you have inspired me. You’ve been angels to me and I’m forever grateful. I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart.
“Pa’ Siempre”