A year in limbo, maybe more

I am a terrible blogger. So many attempts, so few successes, the act of detailing the minutiae or grand events of daily living is something I can’t seem to make habit for the life of me. 

I’ve been in Spain a month now. I spent a strange weekend in Los Molinos where I saw all sorts of Spanish life and from there made it to the hostel, found a flat and started life. There’s so much to say and write and document, and yet the words don’t flow, and so I think I simply will write of that which comes to mind.

I went to the park yesterday, on Halloween. Halloween has always been my favourite holiday, but here they either don’t celebrate it, celebrate it poorly, or those who celebrate are foreigners and I simply couldn’t be arsed. Instead I went to the park.

El Parqe del Retiro is easily the most beautiful thing in Madrid. I honestly wished I lived closer. There’s this lovely little grassy knoll on the far side of the lake where you can just sit and relax and all sorts of wonderfulness. I fashioned myself after some daft impressionist painting, not that my work was anywhere near as good. But the act of painting and sitting and creating was easily the most relaxing thing I’ve come to do. And so, I leave you with my day’s work, and not much detail as to what life in Spain has been like thus far.

Maybe next time :)

 

9/15/2011

I think sometime between the jet engines roaring to life and the ascent to the sky where the buildings below became but board game pieces, it dawned on me that this was actually happening. I was actually doing this. As I write this I’m somewhere in the air between Brussels and Madrid which would presumably put me in the skies of France. By the time anyone reads this, I’ll be off on my Spanish adventure but as I put pen to paper, (for what you read now is a mere transcription) I am still en route.

I’ve somehow wandered into a Spanish adventure. Six months ago, I applied at the last minute possible on the insistence of my mom’s friend, sending everything off the final day of applications. A month ago I was accepted to the program. A week ago, my visa arrived. I booked the ticket and walked out.

So now I’m in the skies and this could not be going better. Dear gods, at the risk of sounding like an absolute snob, I have to implore the lot of you to fly Jet Airways. My ticket was $350 one way. I’m flying coach. This is the leg room we were working with here. If you’ve ever flown Air Transac or Continental, shit is cushy, not to mention the complimentary pillow, blanket, newspaper, and excellent movie selection on my personal screen which I used for watching BBC documentaries.

The food was good.  Like everything else could have been ignored, but then we get to the fact that the food was. Just. So. Good.

Dinner:

Glass of complimentary red wine
Salad with lemon dressing
Chicken curry with rice, naan, and yogurt
Cake
Awesome Indian mints

Now breakfast was hobbit style, in that I had two of them. On the Brussels flight, I had a muffin, a roll, juice and coffee, but then! I made a super fast connection at Brussels to head to Madrid and just:

                Omelet with ham, mushrooms, broccoli, tomatoes and mozzarella
                A roll and double crème brie
                Chocolate croissant
                Orange juice
                Belgium chocolate

So now, done bragging, I leave you. Spoiler alert: I make it through immigration to Spain!

While travelling through Colombia I am finding myself most fascinate with what to Colombians is mindbogglingly ordinary, in particular domestic animals. Here dogs and chickens alike wander about the streets freely, only returning home in the evening hours. They do, however, always return home. 

Of most amusement have been the livestock. In the suburbs in whatever scrap of land that has been left open, where one might imagine a garden, one finds sheep, goats and cows penned in. By days animals are led to pasture and by night returned home.

An amusing scene: Two cows led quickly by their owner, but rather than a horse, they are led by their owner astride a bicycle holding an umbrella atop his head. I imagine bicycles prove more efficient and less temperamental than horses, but I rather like this interpretation.