2012- the end of the world. I think I believe that in part, but as a colleague of mine said recently, “2012 will be the end of the world (as we knooow iiiit) as we personally experience it. It will be a shift in personal perspective, the end of one stage and the beginning of another.”
Since 2012 started I’ve had the profound feeling that it was going to be a year of change. Well, was I right or was I right: change has been all around me. And I’ve witnessed that my life isn’t the only one being affected by this theme- friends and family alike have been bombarded by change (buying houses, moving, moving abroad, getting married, babies, changing jobs, new romances, etc).
A thing or two about changes in my opinion: they’re humbling, surprising, enlightening, exciting, invigorating, challenging at times, easy other times, reflection-inducing, and some of the times will catch you off guard so fast you won’t know what hit you.
So, here is a list of the changes (some of them challenges) that have come my way since 2012 started (most have occurred in the past 2-3 months!):
1) I received my British passport! Tea or scones, anyone? I feel like Jason Bourne with my multiple (well, 2) passports.
2) JIPAR- mi amor and partner in crime. In order to be with my favorite person on earth, who is from Spain, we’ve had to figure out on which continent we wanted to be. It was easier this time for me to go there, so…
3) …I applied to and was accepted into a program for Visiting Teachers in Valencia, Spain that was set to start in September. My acceptance of this position led to…
4) …leaving my wonderful teaching job in NC, packing up my life, JIPAR packing up his life, and me moving to Spain in June to start my Masters program and then start preparing for the move together to Valencia in August. Unfortunately…
5) ..I had to check the “unemployed” box for the first time in my life since after the budget cuts Spain’s government performed mid-July, I found out there would be no job in Valencia because they had decided to cancel the program and reallocate the money for better usage. Thus JIPAR and I began to scramble to create a Plan B…. (skip to number 10 if you want to find out what we came up with!).
6) Finished my coursework for my Masters in Granada… WOOHOO!
7) New look: I cut off ALL of my hair (and left it in Sevilla).
8) Am soon going to be a sister-in-law!!! Congratulations to my lovely sister and her fiancé!
9) My car just turned 200,000 miles. 🙂
10) And the last change… drumroll pleeeease: JIPAR and I are moving to Nicaragua in November to work at Buena Vista Surf Club, a little eco-hotel in San Juan del Sur. We’ll be there until May cooking and helping manage the place and will try our hand at teaching surf lessons (JIPAR) and leading yoga classes (me).
SHEW! It’s been a CRAZY summer trying to figure out a next step for our lives, but I know in my heart and my bones that whatever is next and this next phase of life is going to be as beautiful (and even moreso!) as all of the plans we had made and were changed. Just as my sister said: I’m so lucky to have been given a situation of despair and desperation (suddenly unemployed in a foreign country with no immediate family around and no plan B or even C) to one with multiple choices. The universe is always at work 🙂
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Anais Nin
Here’s to risks, letting go, changing, and blossoming!
So if you haven’t noticed, I took a bit of a hiatus from writing about my adventure in Spain this past summer. It has taken a while to digest everything from my time there and get to a place where I want to write again (on top of the fact that I jumped straight back into my full time job and am training for a race!). So, as the other things are a’cookin’ in this head of mine, here is a little “best of”- my Letters to the World, Spain Edition.
-Dear Gazpacho, I love your cool, tomato-ey thickness on a hot day, especially eaten on a terrace and accompanied by a crispy cold Cruzcampo beer.
-Dear Cruzcampo, I love that moment when someone gave me a glass of you, and after not having tasted your inconsistent flavor for so long, I could still tell that it was you. I missed you and admire your chameleon- like attributes and resistance to stick to the norms.
– Dear Pistachio and Dark Chocolate Gelato,
It doesn’t matter if I don’t want sweets, I will always make an excuse to incorporate you into my day.
– Dear Barmen in Sevilla,
Thank you for letting me exercise my independence by allowing me to come up to the bar to order (whenever I want!) and for remembering what I choose, unlike the barmen in Granada who look at me strangely for not staying seated to order. I like that you let me decide when I get served, like letting me take part in the whole dining experience apart from eating 🙂 [Ok, I know I’m going to get some opposition on this one, mainly from Cojones!]
-Dear Barmen in Granada,
I appreciate you, too! Mainly because you give me yummy treats free of charge (más o menos) when I order a drink.
– Dear Montes of Málaga,
I will never tire of traversing your wavy topography only to see the sea on the other side. You are beautiful.
– Dear Doñana,
There are no words to describe your breathtaking beauty and the precious memories you hold in your sands. You are my happy place.
– Dear Flamenco Dancer,
Thank you for awing me with your sharp yet graceful movements and your proud strength. Wherever you are in your head, I want to go to there.
– Dear Flamenco guitarist on the terrace overlooking the Alhambra,
Your nostalgic tunes along with the delicious scent of the flowers, the babbling brook, and the vista of that lovely palace romanced my heart and made me fall in love. However, I do not think I could stand that everyday- too much romance! But you were just enough whenever you came round 🙂
– Dear Sun in Spain,
I love that you give more light to that country and the days last longer so as to enjoy completely all that land has to offer.
Many more letters could I write. So many that I might have to do a follow up! Next edition will be Carolina Edition, though (of course!). Get ready!
Do you have any “letters to the world” you could write today?
Contra= Euphoria. Enough said. Ok, maybe not…
Every now and then my gals and I like to head over to Chantilly Hall in Charlotte for their Saturday night contra dance. It is absolutely EUPHORIC! I always laugh so hard that I get sick to my stomach, probably because of how ridiculous the whole thing is: dancing with middle-aged men, swinging around as fast as you can and staring, I mean, staring intently, into your partner’s eyes hoping so much that you don’t sick up on them… It’s pretty amazing!! If you ever go, do your fellow contra dancers a favor and don’t drink alcoholic beverages beforehand 🙂 Here is a look at how it works:
**Special thanks to ContraMike1 on youtube- my videos wouldn’t upload! And, for apparently getting some footage of my friends and I unawares- Well played!**
It’s been a tradition now for about 4 years. Once the air gets a crisp bite at night, the sun’s light has a different look as the days become shorter, and spider webs fill the pathways through the forest at my school (I literally look like a member of a LARP group as I walk through with stick in hand waving it around to combat any could-be sticky situations. And that’s Live Action Role Playing for you folks who don’t know- see here), we head to the Carolina mountains to pick a peck (or bushel(s)!) of the freshest apples ever at Sky Top Orchard.
My favorites are the jonagolds, and that’s what I filled my peck to the brim with this time round when I visited with dear Charlotte and my new pal Kara. These are all around great apples, good for eating and baking- I plan to do both! Maybe I’ll even post a little recipe in honor of my dear friend Julie’s blog, Willow Bird Baking. My favorite things about picking fresh fruit are the following:
1- climbing the trees
2- eating one, putting one in the basket, eating one, putting one in the basket
3- smelling the fresh air
4- did I mention eating them on the spot?
5- enjoying nature’s gifts without the middle man.
6- oh yeah, and eating the delicious, juicy fruit and having the sweet stickiness all over your hands.
If you have any good recipes, please send them my way!!
We were shivering from the cold, huddled together under one of the sleeping bags we had brought and looking down hundreds of feet at the rocky landscape from our little ledge at the peak of El Veleta. The sun was a slice of watermelon in the distance. As it crested over the mountains, it looked like someone was beaming a red laser at a spot just above the peaks. We were a already a bit tired, hungry, freezing, and only about a quarter of the way to our final destination…
Flash back to a few weeks prior: dear José PAR (crazy man!) talked me into climbing up the two tallest peaks of Spain, El Veleta and the Mulhacén in the Sierra Nevada right outside of Granada. I traveled to Spain with only a (large) backpack for the 2 months I was going to be there, and in the packing process I had not included provisions for hiking a mountain, much less for temperatures bordering freezing. I mean, it’s the middle of summer in southern Spain; why would I need anything other than shorts, sandals, swimsuits and dresses? ☺ Luckily, this sweet man packed me all the things I needed to not suffer too much, at least from the cold.
José and his crew, Biciaventura, left Brenes (a town north of Sevilla) at around midnight on Friday, swung by Granada at 2:30am to pick me up at an intersection, and onward we continued to a ski station. At 4am Saturday we were running (at least that’s how it seemed to me!) by moonlight up the face of a steep mountain to reach our destination for the sunrise. After 3 hours of grueling hiking, we finally made it!
And. It. Was. MAGICAL! Absolutely one of the most rewarding moments: watching the sunrise over snow-capped peaks in the middle of July in Spain after a long hike. That will be ingrained in my memory forever.
We “rested” for a bit, then began the trek down to have breakfast and start the second leg of our excursion. This is where it got tricky- there were still snow patches hanging around on the ledges, and many times we had to walk on the slippery, melting snow that was covering the paths. It was a bit unnerving, I must say… Not to mention the fact that somewhere along the first part of the hike I had injured a little muscle at the top of my left leg which disabled me from lifting it past my right leg to climb… It became quite unbearable after a while, and although my mind was strong and determined, I could not make my leg function like I wanted it to. Frustration quickly set in, and I doubted whether I was going to be able to make it to our destination.
I was so lucky to be in the company of such a friend as José, who was patient and supportive the whole way. We made it to the refugio where we rested only for a bit before the others were ready to hike the tallest beast, the Mulhacen. I wanted to go with all my heart, but wasn’t sure it was the best idea given the status of my leg. I decided to tag along and if it became too painful, to turn back. It can’t hurt to try, right?
Well, on the way up, José had lots of little tricks up his sleeve to help me when the going got tough. We tried tying a rope around my waist and his, and him tugging me. We tried him pushing me. Me holding on to his backpack. But the best method was just using little hiking poles to support my weight. Oh the pain, though! But as I said, I was quite determined and did not want to give in.
And ohhh! Am I glad I didn’t! After about 1.5/2 hours of climbing, we finally reached the top of the Mulhacén. It was a breathtaking view! One of the most incredible feelings was standing on that peak considering how difficult it had been for me to get up there- it was an amazing accomplishment for me. The best part- one of my favorite signs- was the hundreds of butterflies fluttering around the peak, in and out of the crevices, riding the wind. I have no idea why there were so many butterflies there, but it was spectacular! Another amazing thing was doing this side by side with one of my favorite people in the world.
We went back down the Mulhacén, having conquered the monstrous mountain, ate lunch and took a mega-nap. After 10 hours of hiking we deserved it! Later, as I didn’t want to have a lot of soreness in my muscles, I walked down to a little lagoon/pond that was the most beautiful blue, still water. The melting snow creates them in the summer. I knew it was going to be cold, but again, I was determined to gut through it and try to recuperate my muscles. I waded in a few times, and the last time, some Guardia Civil (the national police of Spain) were walking by and yelled at me (!!). They said I was going to ruin the aquatic environment with my humanness! HA! I understand that we track things that are foreign to those environments, but geez.. you don’t have to be a jerk about it.
The rest of the day was spent just hanging around and resting. Oh, and doing yoga at the foot of the tallest mountain with yours truly as the leader of the Biciaventura crew!
After spending the night in the refugio with about 15 other people, among them a snorer and a cell phone alarm that went off every 5 minutes around 5:00am, we packed up our things and started the trek back to the car, feeling proud and at peace in such company as the majestic Sierra Nevada of southern Spain, and feeling closer to each other. I love experiences that bring people together, and even more so when they include nature 🙂
Day 2 in Sevilla started very early as we prepared to drive out west from Sevilla to the little cowboyish town of El Rocío. There are not enough words to describe all that transpires here, and if I could, it would be better for you to just visit it. Inexplicable, it is.
We arrived in El Rocío mid morning to visitors and residents bustling about getting ready to see the “saca de las yeguas.” This is one of those fascinating festivals for which Spain is so infamous. The purpose of this event is to round up the mares and the colts/foals that have been in the marshlands since the last saca. Men, some boys, and a few ladies from surrounding towns ride their horses to round up the group and stampede them through the streets of El Rocío. It’s a lovely thing, watching the horses run with the long legged and often awkward babies glued to their mothers’ sides.
The craziest thing was the following: I had not seen anyone in Sevilla besides the PAR brothers. Years ago I had visited the house of a colleague of mine from school, who was very much like an adopted grandfather for me. I thought to myself upon arriving this time, “if I see Manolo I am going to go crazy.” Well, as we were waiting between the groups of horses, there went Manolo and his wife, walking right in front of me! It was THE most bizarre thing I’ve ever experienced. The sheer fact that I would know someone at El Rocío and actually see him at this event was so strange, yet so wonderful! It’s like going to some random town like Locust or Rutherfordton, NC, going to a rodeo or something of the sort, and seeing someone you know and hadn’t seen for years.
Continuing, we ate lunch with the PAR family in Matalascañas, a beach town nearby, then went back to the PAR residence at Doñana National Park, took mega naps, and left with Papa PAR to take a tour of the area. We stopped at a pretty much secluded beach, no people for miles and miles! Not even a footstep was found except my own. We then went into the park for a spectacular sunset tour to see the dunes, marsh, and wildlife.
Pepe, the head of the PAR family, is a published photographer (48 books) and works at this national park. He has the largest camera I’ve ever seen. I asked him how he got started and his answer really captivated me. He said, “Antes cazaba, pero ahora para mi la fotografía es un tipo de cazar.” (“I used to hunt a while back, but photography is a type of “hunting” for me now.”)
“Uff… You don’t want to go to Sevilla this weekend. You’d be better off staying here in Almería. This weekend it is going to be hot there.” These words were the ones that sent me on my way to Sevilla from sunny, breezy Almería with cool water at about a minute’s walk from the door of Beth’s house. Oh, how I wish I had heeded the advice of the flight attendant! (Actually I don’t, no regrets, but I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to encounter..)
Sevilla was hot. Like a frying pan. Or more like the fire below the frying pan. You can’t do anything from 1pm- 9pm because it’s too hot to be in the streets. It’s frustrating and makes you lazy. The opening topic for every single conversation (no lie!!) is the unbearable heat. However, I find it so curious that so few houses here have adapted to this ‘phenomenon’ and installed air conditioning. And even when there is air, the majority of the time it isn’t used!
Anyhoots- I arrived to searing Sevilla early in the morning to be greeted by my beloved Spanish brothers, José and Manu. I hardly had time to breathe as we raced home to drop off my bag and eat a napolitana (croissant with chocolate- myam!) before promptly leaving for the Cerro del Hierro to go rock climbing for the day with their friend José Luis.
This little mountain chain to the north of Sevilla was the place of iron mines years ago which have created a very ominous and impressive site for hiking and climbing. The serrated rocks have left great little holds for wandering hands trying to pull their owners up the face of a rock.
We spent most of the day trying different climbs and cheering each other on, listening to our voices and laughter echo through the desolate landscape. We were the only people there for most of the time. After our appendages were nice and sore and raw, we went for a dip in the COLDEST mountain water I’ve ever felt. Truly, nothing helps tired muscles like a swim in a mountain spring!