Going Gone

BToday is Tuesday and at this very moment I am sitting in the back seat of a coasting ALSA bus as it paces towards the city of Alicante. This marks the first offical day of a two week winter vacation for the vast majority of schools in Spain. Until sometime last week my plans for the holidays were loosely patched together and filled with blank spots that stood out like holes along an old road. Most english teachers have elected to leave Murcia for at least a portion of the holiday and starting with this short bus ride I will be following a similar trend.

After getting in touch with some close friends I finalized a series of accomdation situations and booked a one way plane that is due to leave from Alicante in less than four hours. It's destination will be Manchester, United Kingdom and the purpose of this trip will be to reconnect with two really great guys who I last saw two years ago in South America. Nick and John both go to school in Manchester and it will be truly great to see those guys.

From Manchester Nick and I will celebrate Christmas (if I'm still invited) with his family in Liverpool then a few days later drive with his mom to Blegium. From Belgium I plan on taking either a BlaBla car or any form of public transit to make my way to Cologne, Germany to see two other good friends who were also last seen two years ago in Ecuador. Thilak and Alex have offered to show me around their city and since its been so long it felt like a good idea to take advantage of the vacation to see them too. 

Lastly from Cologne I will find some form of transport to take me to Paris to celebrate New Years with geat person named Gabriela and her friends. She and I haven't seen one another since meeting for the first time last year with the help of Couchsurfing. A few other people, Fanny and Alice, live in the city as well and we haven't seen each other in almost six years.

From Paris the final plan is still unclear but either way I will need to make way towards Murcia because the vacation will be drawing to a close.

Writing the final words to this post I feel nothing but excitement to see these people and feel even more blessed to have them as friends. Over the years it could have been very simple to lose contact but by equal efforts from each person's part these reunions are about to take place. The maintaining of friendships like these are some of the greatest gifts anyone can ask for and it's becoming difficult to maintain composure simply thinking about seeing these people again. 

As this bus nears its destination I can physically see that an airport is coming into sight. The wide and tall glass terminal of the large Alicante airport can be literally seen from outside the back window of where I'm seated. Witnessing all of these concrete events unfolding doesn't change how the internal semi disbelief and excitement are starting to drive my consciousness. Mentally, despite what is really happening, I have no idea where this bus is going. 

All know is I'm gone. 

I hope that whoever reads this has a very wonderful holiday season and a great start to 2015. Wherever or whoever you are I truly wish the best for you and hope that you can celebrate this time of year with those who are most important.  Have a great day and enjoy each moment, you are beautiful :)

Cheers.

Under the Ficus Trees

Today is Wednesday and despite being mid December the weather in Murcia is surprisingly warm. Based on my limited experience of understanding climate patterns for this part of the world it has been worthwhile to always pack an extra layer because temperatures have been known to go through daily identity crises'. At 9am the sun will leave you shedding layers however by 3pm you will want to run towards any enclosed building to escape the chills of incoming wind. This being said I have packed a light jacket in preparation for the potential bombardment of invading shivers.

It's been a few weeks since posting in this blog and for that I apologize. Between preparing Christmas presentations for class and hopping into BlaBla cars on weekends, time between my last posting and the current one has entered a tunnel of evaporating velocity. Last weekend my friend Lieven and I spent a few days in a rain soaked Madrid to stay with an Argentinian Couchsurfing friend. During our short yet condensed trip we hopped a morning bus to wander around the medieval gem also known as Toledo. This small yet beautiful city is a blending of Jewish, Christian & Arabic cultures and picturesque rolling green hills can be seen from all corners of its sturdy castle walls. We connected with Jesús, a really nice guy from Bolivia, and he showed us the highlights of Toledo which for me was the Alcázar, a looming symbol of the Spanish Civil War. Jesús and his family knew Lieven through Couchsurfing and we shared a delicious Vegan inspired dinner as they reconnected for the first time in years. While back in Madrid we took a day long personal walking tour through Parque del Retiro, Puerto del Sol, then ended with free entries into the museums El Prado and La Reina Victoria. The Spanish capital city is a massive yet magical place to visit and thanks to the fantastic metro system it's fairly easy to navigate. Thanks to Couchsurfing we were able to see this part of Spain on a shoestring budget and for that I am very thankful.

At this exact moment I am taking a seat on a faded brown park bench watching scores of casually paced walkers crossing in various directions in El Jardín de Floridablanca. Taking a seat only minutes ago there has already been a steady progression of pedestrians continuing the rhythm of their daily pattern and watching them go by is quite peaceful. Some are dressed in fancy business attire, others have their backpacks hanging loose on their shoulders, others are prepping for a jog and striding with seemingly un-natural leg motions.

With my cell phone on airplane mode the past few minutes of complete disconnection from the realm of electronic social clouds ignites calming internal streams that are rooting around me like those of the massive ficus trees that line the park's central stone passageway. Built in the 19th century and occupying a large rectangle shaped territory within Murcia's El Carmen neighborhood, El Jardín de Floridablanca is easily my favorite place to relax in the city. Separated by El Rio Segura (the river that dissects the city) from the hustle of downtown Murcia this meeting point for locals is still close enough to feel a heartbeat away from its pulsing energy.

Besides the great people watching this sanctuary is nice because under the spreading fingers of ficus branches I am completely shielded from the sun. The benches that form a synchronized stitching pattern along the lining of the park's main walkway are also surprisingly comfortable. Along the oposite entryway of the park scores of children can be seen playing in confusingly shaped structures with their parents looking onward in casual fashion.

A slight breeze sends scores of ficus leaves skidding towards an Eastern sprawl along the pavement. Somewhere motors from cars can be heard buzzing in accordance to stop lights.

Besides the rays of tall standing sunshine another important thing is being shielded by the ballooning green vegetation of the ficus trees: My identity. Sitting on this park bench there exists a temporary and necessary internal oasis. No one in this park knows who I am, why I'm in Spain, and what path in life I have chosen. However it's also impossible to guess who the unknown park explorers are either. Maybe the person that just crossed my path is studying to become a lawyer. The woman on her cell phone might be a local television personality or maybe a criminal seeking refuge from pursuing authorites. No matter our life stories and the countless decisions we have made to reach this precise moment in life, everything has been left on the outside sidewalk as we now share at least one visible mutual interest: this park and its soft falling ficus leaves.

Once we leave the protection of it's steal fences & non-attention grabbing monuments to people I've never heard of we will return to everything that we used to know.

As two legged human beings start to look more like waving dots along pathway its my cue to leave and continue to whatever it was I was doing.

Maybe the unknown park walkers will see me sitting on that same bench again one day in the future. Maybe they won't.

At least we will always have the ficus trees.

It's time to put on my jacket.

Shower like a Spaniard

Today is Thursday and as the dialogue of local Murcian news is streaming from an undetermined origin from my computer the day is progressing in orderly fashion. After four hours of assisting two English professors at Vicente Medina, a primary school located along the border between the Murcian towns of El Esparragal and La Orilla de Azarbe, the work week has officially ended. I share time each week between this school and La Señora de los Angeles which is centrally located in El Esparragal and both locations provide different yet equally uplifting environments. Between language exchanges with a couple of the town's really nice locals and frequenting a local bakery on a habitual basis for empanadas I am beginning to feel like a quasi part of the town.

After seven weeks of working as an English language assistant I feel fortunate to be a part of both school's bilingual programs and each day continues to be a learning experience. As of this past Monday there is now a new love in my life: Mandarines. Murcia as a region doesn't boast the most prominent architecture or traveler friendly scene compared to the rest of the country however it does happen to be Spain's leading producer of delicious fruit and vegatables. Local food products can be found at absurdly cheap prices within nearly every grocery store and as stated above I have found a new addiction towards mandarines. On Monday I was awarded a bag full of them by the grandfather of a friend who lives in El Esparragal and the rich juicy citrus of their orange inspired deliciousness has me completely hooked.

Last Sunday after hiking along a sunny coastal trail with Lola, Lucia, and Leiven within the nature preserve of Calblanque, roughly thirty minutes outside of La Manga towards Mar Manor, a second love of my life entered the realm of my tastebuds: Paella. Inside a local restaurant and while sharing una jarra of Estrella beer a massive black simmering saucepan was placed at the center of our table. Garnished with wide sliced limes an assortment of green peppers, red peppers, calamari, clams, & full pieces of chicken sat docked within the shores of a savory saffron rice lagoon. Despite all of us equally being starving after the hike we weren't able to finish the enormous serving of Paella and elected to rename it's role into leftovers.

Like an echo of the first sentence within this blog post it is currently Thursday and the sky outside is cloudy with possible hints of rain in the forecast. Since flicking enough keyboard combinations to create three paragraphs the background soundtrack to my afternoon has now shifted to underground Hip-Hop, a rhythm reminiscent of living back home. After seven weeks of living a semi-expat lifestyle in Murcia I sincerely miss the good music from home but more importantly I miss the people who I once shared it with. Mexican food, hot sauce, bicycle lanes, and social acceptance for wearing flip-flops are a handful of other things that I miss but luckily there are new aspects of life that have taken their place. The ability to share a delicious tapas dinner among friends at a whopping price of $7 is a nice change. Instead of addressing friends as "man" or "buddy" you now have "acho", "tio", and "hombre." The word "joder" has multiple entertaining meanings and children as young as 6 can be heard expressing it is various contexts. Instead of scratching your head with a good response to something you didn't quite understand in conversation there now exists a simple melodic verbal solution: "vale". People here are also very helpful and open, often to the point of excessiveness. Without knowing who you are a family will gladly invite you to lunch and without question offer you a glass of local wine as if it were part of their daily routine. People here are also for the most part very proud, honest, and friendly despite assuming that since I'm American I have a fondness for hamburgers, shooting things, and being late to everything.

As I sit here in front of my computer I realize that this morning I didn't wait to see if any of my roommates were going to use the shower. I simply woke up, stumbled half-awake into the bathroom and did what needed to be done in order start the day before school. When I first moved into the place where I currently am living it was a different story. Taking showers, like crossing a busy street, ordering a beer at a popular bar, or simply living life in most cases requires you to simply just take the lead and make the first move. By the time you wait for everyone to wake up then ask if they need the bathroom you might have already missed the bus for work. People here seemed to have figured this out and it's something that I want to take into daily accordance as long as respect for others is maintained.

If I walk away from this experience having gained nothing else at the very least I can say that I can now shower like a Spaniard.

Have a great day and more updates coming soon :)

ValenciAhhh

Sometime around 8pm last Friday an ALSA bus that originated in Murcia made its final stop within the city of Valencia. After conducting routine pick-ups in Elche and Benidorm, a pair of smaller cities a short distance from Alicante, the mode of transport passively lurched into a nesting place between two brightly tinted yellow lines painted on asphalt inside an airplane hangar style terminal. The sky was dark and once the buses' rear doors glided open a sprawl of disembarking passengers scattered in unseen directions with varied degrees of urgency. After waiting my turn in a moderately progressing line and five careful downward steps I was now officially in the city.

With zero plan of action and not a clue of where anything was located I managed to make way towards the neighborhood El Carmen, one of the oldest barrios of Valencia. During the bus trip I booked a single night at the Central Valencia Youth Hostel via my phone in order to have at least a small point of reference upon arrival. The hostel, like its title, is conveniently located in the center of many important landmarks like Plaza de La Virgen and los Torres de Serranos. After charging my phone, meeting a couple backpackers from Australia and Sweden, then sending out a series of last minute couchsurfing requests for the following day, I exited the hostel with not a single idea where to go. 

The soft sliding shut of the trendy Euro-hostel's glass door changed my role from casual vacationer to street dweller and impulse driven corner crosser. With the door closed behind me the first major decision of the weekend presented itself before my very eyes. 

Turn left or turn right?

My first evening in Valencia proceded in this kind of fashion. Sneaking between allies, impromptu U-turns, and sudden curb jumping guided me first towards a hundred something person bicycle posse congregating around the Turia Fountain of La Plaza de La Virgin where middle aged men walked around with paper bags looking to sell overly priced street beers. A few more left and right turns sent me to Plaza Viriato to enjoy the closing of an electronic DJ set among scores of seemingly well-to-do Valencians donning nice evening attire and more street beer. Twisting along through confusingly titled streets and following along with various waves of strolling locals I encountered Alberto who was working at "The Hotdog Factory", a corner food restaurant selling what you probably can already guess. Alberto introduced me to a girl named Lola who then gave me directions to a music venue called "Loco Club" where a band from Madrid called Dinero was performing. With no plans I followed the directions that she drew on a white napkin and spent the rest of the evening listening to high energy Spanish rock music.

Once Saturday Morning introduced itself with a groggy handshake I was informed by the staff of the hostel where I was staying that the facility was fully booked and check-out was in 2 hours. Looking online not a single hostel in Valencia had space for less than 35 Euros which was way too expensive for my budget. No one responded to my Couchsurfing request either so it was looking like a return to Murcia was going to be happening later in the day.

While thinking of options on a hostel computer someone messaged me on Couchsurfing. An American named Nadia working as an Au Pair saw my request on CS and was interested in exploring the city later in the afternoon. Having not a clue what the next plan of action was as per usual, I put my personal backpack in hostel storage, checked out, then met her at Mercado Central. From there we wandered around various parts of Valencia's historical district with no destination in mind and it was a fun way become acquainted with the cityscape. Starting with creating our own bocadillos in a nearby plaza from goods bought at Mercado Central, people watching from my hostel's rooftop patio, and trying tinto de verano at "100 Montaditos," then taking pictures of countless exotic urban art the afternoon passed in flashing instants. After recollecting my backpack I decided to stay an extra night even though I didn't have a place to sleep.

With all of my possessions attached to my back Nadia and I met up with some of her friends who were from the city and spent most of the night in El Carmen. Between finding a feet stomping drum parade, stand-up comedy acts in a half-constructed building foundation, kebabs, having tea at a teteria, then dancing to funky-beats at a great bar called "Radio Music" my final night in Valencia was one that will forever leave me in a good mood. Laura, Nadia's friend, was nice enough to let us stay at her place for the evening and I will be forever thankful for that act of kindness.

Before saying good farewell to Valencia on Sunday we climbed the winding stairs of Micalet located within the cities' cathedral to catch some of the cities' best views and did some wandering a little bit more just for old time's sake. I feel very fortunate to have met Nadia and hope to repay the her fantastic role of tourguide to her or anyone else if they ever visit Murcia.

Having returned from Valencia there were a lot of supposedly important things I didn't manage to experience. I didn't try the cities' famous Paella, I didn't make a small trek to the beach like a lot of visitors, I didn't see La Lonja & didn't go into The City of Arts and Sciences museum. If anyone asks what exactly I did do while in Valencia the answer is simple:

I had one of the best weekends of my life.

Bus Station Roulette

Today is Friday and I hope that who ever is reading this post is enjoying the start to their weekend :) Sitting in the backseat of a fairly full ALSA bus the sun has just dipped beneath the western horizon and formations of white circular lights from various passing buildings are the only signs civilization in what is now a completely black view from the window.

It's been a little while since updating this blog and as of yesterday I have completed five weeks of working as an Auxiliar de Cinversacion in the Murcian town of El Esparragal. Between dressing up for Halloween last Friday as a priest, playing games with the kids, and even guiding a handful of daily lesson plans, the experience has been very energy consuming yet also rewarding. After a few weeks of classes mixed with a number of language exchanges within the center of the city I am starting to feel ready to teach private English lessons as a form of extra income. If whoever reads this knows anyone interested have them whatsapp me haha.

While outside of the classroom a group of Auxiliares and myself have been meeting for Tapas and scavenging the city for the cheapest menu del dia. A current personal favorite is an Ecuadorian ran restaurant in the neighborhood of El Carmen which offers a very non Spanish menu but it's prices are the best I've seen in city. A Couchsurfing friend has introduced me to parts of the salsa dancing community and a new personal goal has been relearning the practice a few nights a week at a bar called Bora Bora. Last weekend a good friend and I went to Alicante for the day to soak up some remaining warm weather before the transition into Fall officially begins. Another day trip on Sunday to El Cañon de Almadenes made it a fourth consecutive weekend for getting out of Murcia. 

As I sit here within the speeding ALSA bus the fifth consecutive weekend for making a getaway towards a different region of Spain is about to begin. 

This morning I woke up with a strong urge to just show up at the bus station in Murcia, see when the next bus was leaving to any particular destination, buy a one way ticket and simply see what happens. It could be from a random desire to get lost or possibly a sensation to mix up the increasingly routine structure to each week. Whatever the reason I simply just needed a break.

After running two important errands at the bank I packed a small bag with one T-shirt, one pair of socks, underwear, toiletries, phone charger, guidebook, jacket, and ultimately my passport then walked across town to the station. At about 1:45pm I stood in a filed line at a mechanical ticket kiosk still not knowing where I wanted to go. Within moments it was now my turn and I had to make a quick decision because people were collectively gathering behind me in patience for their chance to buy a ticket to their predetermined destination. 

Standing at the machine I was lost in the scrolling sea of countless Spanish town and city names. A few immediately came to mind but there wasn't a bus leaving anytime soon. After a scrambling I finally typed a V then an A then maybe out of instinct an L and "Valencia" came up on the white screen.

Thinking for a moment I tapped a few buttons and suddenly a thin sheet of paper spat out at the palm of my lowered right hand from a small chamber of the kiosk.

The next bus bound for Spain's third largest city was leaving within an hour and now one of its future passengers was going to be me. 

I don't know how long I'll be in Valencia. Maybe 24 hours, maybe a couple days since school starts back up on Monday, or possibly just a handful of minutes. I have no idea. Not even knowing where I will sleep makes this seem like an unwise idea. However sometimes the best plan is having absolutely no plan whatsoever.

I've just played a game of  adventure roulette, let's see what happens :)

In my heart the results of this game hardly matter because inside I know I've already gained what I was hoping for. I wanted to feel the breaze of some place I've never been before, to see sights of previously unknown destinations, to be free.

My shoes are tied, a backpack is safely gaurded between my resting feet and I have an open mind so let's get lost :)

Updates coming soon!

Frank Ocean & Olive Trees

In the backseat of a mid 2000s dark blue Audie sedan a hunch that the trip to Granada was going to be memorable arrived into my mind once heavy synths of a Frank Ocean track blended into the car's stereo speakers.

For some odd reason each time a song reminiscent of home comes into contact with my ears while traveling there sits an internal sensation that I was meant to be there, that it was good decision to visit that particular destination. As rows of olive trees lined in synconized fashion along the rolling soft green hills to both sides of the Bla Bla car the overall look of our surroundings gradually started taking a different form. We no longer were in the region of Murcia, this was now Andalucia. As we dissected through this part of southern Spain the colors of the trees shifted from light greens to yellows and oranges. 

Within minutes of bidding farewell to Thomas, our Bla Bla driver, Lucia and I quickly connected with our friend Paco. Paco is the son of Lola, our other roommate, and visiting him was an excuse for us to visit Granada. From the moment we transitioned from car passengers to street explorers the weekend entered a time warp and it's hard to believe that this post is being written on Monday because the previous three days have passed like flickers of an expiring light bulb.

After beers and a menu del día at a corner plaza eatery named Basil we proceeded to wander the streets of Granada in search of nothing in particular yet at the same time everything we could think of. The city itself sits at the base of a very expansive set of mountains also known as the Spanish Sierra Nevadas and a great point of reference is to simply head for a hill or go down one when having difficulty locating a major street. Transitioning from Greek colony to Roman metropolis to Visigoth stronghold to Islamic powerhouse  then ultimately a climactic Christian Spanish reconquest symbol, Granada is visibly a mixture of many historically rich cultures. The final reconquest of the city by the Spanish took place on the same year that Christopher Columbus "discovered" America.

A majority of the weekend was spent along the Darro River which intersects a major portion of the cities' white painted historical center. Between getting lost along the bohemian Calle Elvira in search of Hookah bars, taking in the wonders of Mirador's San Nicolas & San Cristobal, seeing tombs of Spanish royalty near Granada's Cathedral, dancing to Reggaeton at some unknown bar that served sugary Mojitos, relaxing on the lawn of Parque Federico Garcia Lorca, then a majestic tour of the infamous Alhambra, we managed to take in many flavors of the city. I would recommend Granada as an immediate place to visit for anyone traveling to Spain and feel very fortunate to have witnessed a handful of it's endless deck of experience cards. 

As I sit here within the quiet confines of Cafe De Ficciones back in Murcia I feel like I accidently left something behind in Granada. The bag I packed was pretty light and besides a couple pairs of socks, one pair of shoes, and my camera the idea of something forgotten seems a little unrealistic.

Thinking back maybe I dropped the unknown item in one of the cities' artist inspiring plazas. Then again it might have fallen out of my pocket while wandering through Alcaiceria, a winding corridor of Moroccan markets where "these" and "those" are sold in bushels. Maybe it could be frozen in wonder at the finest of textures along any given wall of Alhambra. Maybe it's sharing a moment of peace behind the protection of a round-shaped stone fountain along El Paseo de los Tristes. Then again it could have been left behind one of the soft crimson pillows of a teteria deep within the incline of an Arabic inspired neighborhood.

After thinking for a moment I realize that something was definitely left behind. It's the reason for my moving to Spain, for working as an English assistant, for continuing this prolonged life-quest to get lost then find the way all over again.

Its my curiosity.

Thinking one more time maybe it's not in Granada. I think it's in Madrid or possibly Valencia. I haven't been to either of those places yet.

The fast picking guitar riffs of "On the Road Again" by Willie Nelson just introduced themselves to the atmosphere of Cafe de Ficciones. 

As I pack up my belongings and head for home there is definitely one thing I left behind in Granada.

My heart.

Until next time...

...These & Those..

Note: Written last night!

I find myself watching a dubbed Spanish documentary about science fiction movies with my roommate Lucia in the living room of our house in Murcia. As an unseen narrator sputters details regarding a film set in Mars the first sensation of cool breeze for the day enters the room via an open side door. Being almost 10pm this previously unknown stranger is a highly welcome guest.

After a little over three weeks living in the southern Spanish city of Murcia the sensation of actual breeze has become something to truly cherish. Despite seeing some rain within the first handful of days in Murcia the general climate for this region of the country is typically sunny and arid. On average the temperature each day has hovered around 85 degrees fahrenheit however people have warned that during the summer months there are consistent weeks of inferno-like heat ranging in the 100+ variety. This kind of heat also brings to the forefront a very simple yet extremely important natural phenomenon: the wonders of shade. I feel safe to say that after almost a month as an English assistant I still hardly know anything about Spain, it's vibrant history, the endless gastronomic adventures it offers, and it's wonderful culture. The one thing I absolutely DO know is where to find shade. This has been arguably the most important thing to learn, more so than bus routes, directions to pubs and locations to restaurants. Without capitalizing on shade it is hard to get by each day in Murcia.

Thanks to the presence of lingering warmth at all hours of the day Murcia is prime for those who enjoy spending afternoons or evenings in plazas or outdoor dining establishments. The people of this city love being outside and at all moments of the day is it hard not to find a allies, streets, and terraces filled with locals of all ages having a good time. For many people the day starts and ends in a plaza. Groups of elderly people can be seen replaying the events of their day alongside university students priming for a night on the town all on the same park bench. Musicians play flamenco guitars or soft accordion serenades reminiscent to Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" as couples go on slow strolls through winding dim lit stone passageways. A fun evening can easily consist of simply ordering a "caña" (beer) and a tapa while watching life unfold in refreshing relaxation. 

Tonight will be a fairly calm evening because tomorrow Lucia and I will take a Bla Bla car to Granada and will spend two days visiting the son of our other roommate Lola. Just in case no one has heard of Bla Bla you are not alone. I had never heard of it either until arriving in Spain. Bla Bla is a ride-sharing service similar to Lyft, Sidecar, or Uber however instead of traveling within cities it is used as a means of going from one city to another. It's by far the cheapest way to travel in Spain and also maybe the most interesting. 

Granada, a city of roughly 250,000 inhabitants, is located about 1.5 hours southwest of Murcia and is famous for its bountiful tapas community, rich Moorish heritage, natural landscapes thanks to its close proximity to the Spanish Sierras, and arguably the country's most famous citadel in Alhambra. Once in the city we plan on hanging out with Paco, Lola's son who is studying there, and wander like its becoming a trend. 

The return from Granada on Sunday will keep alive a three weekend streak of managing to explore neighboring cities outside of Murcia. Last week two friends from the teaching program, Lieven from Belgium and Susie from Los Angeles, and I took a short bus trip in order to spend a Sunday in Cartagena. Between meeting two Couchsurfers for tours around the beautiful Teatro Romano and seafood at Santa Lucia's the day was fantastic. The weekend before that Lieven and I visited Alicante to walk around the coastal cities sun scorched beaches and see El Castillo de Santa Barbara. Both cities are located along the Mediterranean Sea and boast picturesque views of endless water horizens. The region of Murcia is highly underrated and is a great place to visit especially if you know people who live there (hint hint hint!!).

More updates are coming soon about Granada but until then I hope that who ever reads this is having a nice Friday!

Sorry for the very wordy update and thank you for checking out this blog! You look really delightful right now :)

                          Cheers ;)

Murciano

Today is Monday and currently I am enjoying the calmness of what been a very relaxing afternoon in Murcia. Its been nearly two weeks since updating this blog and for that I sincerely apologize. As I sit at the reigns of the keyboard in front of me a great deal of events have taken place since arriving in southern Spain on September 30th. It's hard to fully describe everything that has happened since stepping foot on a plane destined for here but I'm going to try and give whoever decides to read this a summary :)

At this very moment I have completed my first week as working as an Auxiliar de Conversación, also known as an English language assistant.  This program hires people primarily from the USA, England, and parts of the French speaking world to work in various elementary schools, high schools, and language schools throughout Spain with an intention of helping teachers provide students with a more complete immersion into English or French.

Also at this exact moment in time I find myself within the confines of what is now officially a permanent residence. After landing in Madrid from New York a plane was immediately boarded for Alicante from there an ALSA bus delivered me to the center of Murcia, my future home for the next eight months. Walking from the station, large backpack slung over my shoulders, I managed to find through a fray of nicely dressed locals The Cathedral Hostel  backpackers which was conveniently located in the heart of the cities' historical district. 

Within minutes of setting down my backpack in the cramped two bunk-bed dormitory style room I met two people who would ultimately play a huge role in my experience here in Murcia. Pierre a 28 year old from France and his friend Lola, a middle aged woman who hails from Murcia, entered the room within minutes of my arrival. After speaking broken Spanish with them for a few minutes Lola invited me to her house because she happened to be looking to rent an extra piso (room) out to someone. The three of us took her car to the neighborhood Vistalegre about three minutes away and after sharing a beer and introducing ourselves better, I decided to become her newest tenant. Within two hours of living in Murcia I had established a place to stay and I feel very fortunate to be here. Besides Lola and me there is another girl from Madrid named Lucia who is studying in Murcia for a Masters Degree. It's great for practicing Spanish and the house comes with bicycles, plenty of personal space, a large patio, plus a very relaxed atmosphere. The choice to move here was by complete intuition and so far its been well worth it.

In addition to finding a place I now currently have a BBVA bank account, a library card, a Spanish phone number, a Tranvia (public transit) pass, and in three weeks I will be receiving a student ID card. With the Huela (ID card) I will be able to stay in Spain for as long as am employed as a language assistant which is nice. 

Murcia is a very hot southern Spain city that stays pretty free of tourism but is within close proximity to some of the countries' more beautiful Mediterranean scenery. Despite being extremely warm at all moments of the day men never a seen wearing shorts or sandals. People love to eat outside, congregate in plazas, and go share tapas while savoring chilled Estrella beers. The overall population here is fairly young thanks to two large universities and overall locals a very inviting. After two weeks of living here I have been encountered by random people asking me directions to places I've never heard of so it seems like something must be working.

Officially after two weeks I feel safe to say that besides having the right to vote I am a semi Spanish citizen and thanks to a grueling 12 hour work week can be considered a productive member of European society. (I think)

As an Auxiliar de Conversación I have been placed in a village called El Esparragal and am working four days a week assisting six different English teachers within two elementary schools in various bilingual subjects. As stated before I work a total of 12 hours a week and have three day weekends which provides plenty of flexibility for traveling to other parts of Spain. In each hour of work I have been placed with students ranging from 6 years old up to 12 years old and so far the experience has been pretty interesting. I will provide more details later :)

This is all for now but more updates will be coming soon! If anyone who reads this wants to get in touch here is my Whatsapp: +014153021802! 

P.S. To anyone who reads this I strongly encourage you to come visit :)  

Lift-Offs Revisited

Note: Written yesterday, ran out of wi-fi

Today is Monday and currently I am finishing the remains of what once was a coffee beverage while sitting within an open aired cafe named El Beit. The warmth of the drink to my right has nearly lost all of its temperature and a pair of middle aged foreign women are sitting to the side of me speaking in some unknown European dialect. Views of Bedford Street can be seen as I take in a gradual sip of dark espresso mixed with water.

For the past three days I have been rummaging around alongside a close friend named Jack with hopes of taking in the diverse flavors of New York City. Jack lives in the trendy neighborhood of Williamsburg which is located in the heart of Brooklyn and despite only being in town for a few days we managed to accomplish more than should be admitted. Shifting from midnight pizza slices, enormous pastrami sandwiches, rooftop brews with friends, free concerts in Central Park and a lot of laughs this trip to the East was one that I am truly thankful to have experienced. Hopefully I will be given an opportunity to pay back the hospitality shown to me during this visit sometime in the near future.

The duration of stay in Williamsburg, like the coffee in front of me, is reducing right before my very eyes. Within a handful of hours I will be hopping a subway train towards John F Kennedy Airport to catch a plane destined for a place located a great distance away, Madrid, Spain. 

After flying to Madrid I will board a second flight to Alicante which is a southern Spanish city, then take a bus to Murcia. Murcia is the capital city of a province in Spain that bares the same title and once unpacking my bags it will become my home for at least the next 8 months. 

The purpose of this move will be to work as an Auxiliar de Consejeria which means I will be working as an English teacher's assistant in various schools close to Murcia. The first day of school is this upcoming Wednesday and there was a good chance due to delayed deliveries of necessary documents that I would have had to wait a few more weeks for the Spanish Consulate in San Francisco to process my Visa application. Marta is the person who interviewed me and I'll forever be indebted to her because she managed to get the paperwork done in half of the normal time. Rather than sit home waiting for what could have been a few more weeks I luckily find myself ready to start the journey. 

With a Visa for Spain newly obtained a series of concrete travel plans became officalized via the purchasing of plane tickets. There was very little time to savor the moment with family and friends before leaving but I feel truly grateful for short yet equally important moments we were all able to share together. 

Once inside Murcia I will be temporarily living in a backpacker stopover called Cathedral Hostel and try to get some rest before starting orientation on Wednesday. Hopefully this week I will be able to find a more permanent living situation, buy a local cell phone, open a bank account, and begin the final stages towards obtaining a Student Identification Card.  

More updates are coming soon ;)

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this blog, for your support and for your friendship. Without you this blog probably would have never left the airport and stay grounded for unwarranted amounts of time. 

Finishing this post I realize that time is becoming less available and that the moment to prepare for departure is nearing arrival. Standing up I feel a wave of fear, excitement, curiosity, terror & utter happiness. The only thing I don't have racing through my now speeding mind and imagination is regret. It's time to catch a plane.

The time for lift-off to parts unknown is approaching faster than I could have ever imagined and like the saying of my favorite comicbook, it's a wonderful world out there so let's go exploring :)

Take good care of yourself, much love, biscuits & some gravy.

Day Dreams

Today is Thursday and for the first time in many weeks the sky looks like a blended mixture of whites and grays rather than a clear tint of blue. Outside of a wall-sized window visible trees on the corner are swaying with gentile perplexity and a rising steam of warmth from a freshly brewed coffee slowly evaporates into the air of a local cafe named Cibo. While leaning the top half of my body towards a slightly tilted laptop computer screen as it sits upon an ivory colored table the numbing bass of a pre-selected song is being fed into my eardrums via a set of miniature earphones.

Half of my attention is focusing on the synchronized arrangement of black tinted words and the other half is completely scattered like the rolling of coins from a shattered jar. Time is crawling. A tiny internal spark is beginning to ignite itself within of the back hallway of my mind and a notion of escaping towards home rather than sitting here partially puzzled inside the bright natural lighting of a nearby cafe is sounding like a good idea.

The coffee tastes delicious and after recently ordering a second round an imaginary bucket of water is swiftly extinguishing any temptation for leaving. I came here for one reason, well maybe two. The first was to get a much needed buzz of caffeine. The second was to finish a two page essay relating back to a Teach English as a Second Language (TESOL) course that I was fortunate enough to complete less than a month ago in San Francisco.

The deadline for finishing the essay is tomorrow sometime in the afternoon however the director of the school whose name is Carrie has been extremely generous and granted me an open-ended due date. Yet there is some degree of urgency because once completed I will be officially TESOL certified, which in other words means that I can legally go to a different country and teach (or at least pretend to teach) people my native language.

Outside a young couple is walking their baby stroller to some unknown destination, cars are aimlessly cruising with some undetermined intention, and the aroma of some randomly savory smelling bread product is being served behind me to a person whom I haven't met before. My eyes return to the artificial rectangle of light.

A few more word combinations later and the view of someone eating what looks like a vanilla ice-cream cone comes into direct eyesight. I'm starting to feel hungry. Screw this paper I think to myself. But I have to finish it. Despite the difficulty I find myself having in completing this two page odyssey of paragraphs there sits a pleasant cloud of freedom over my shoulders. For the first time in what feels like a ages this is something that I have complete control over and it's oddly comforting.

Up until this essay the entire process of moving to go teach English in Murcia, Spain has been a game of waiting. Currently I am waiting to have a Student Visa application get processed by the Spanish embassy in San Francisco. Before submitted the application I was waiting for a document from the Secretary of State. Before waiting for the Secretary of State I sat for two months waiting for the FBI to process a Federal Background Check. Before the Background Check I had to wait for fingerprints to get taken. While sitting around for those items I was also waiting within the confines of a string of emails between various English professors in Murcia and also the director of the exchange program (North American Culture and Language Ambassadors). During this entire length of time I was waiting for a letter from my doctor granting medical clearance to move overseas.

I could be getting my Visa next week but then again maybe I'll get it in three weeks. Unfortunately nothing can influence how quickly or slowly the Spanish government will be able to process the Visa needed in order to move to their country. If the Visa arrives next week then I'll be flying to Europe no later than September 29th in order to make the move on time for the first day of my contract, October 1st. If the document of entry doesn't come next week then all I can do is wait a little while longer.

Someone just ordered an iced-tea and it looks pretty thirst quenching, however the piece of pie that had just been served to his friend might take the prize for most delicious looking presentation. A quick snap back to reality and a painfully short sequence of letters has just formulated yet another sentence on the emotionless computer gauntlet in front of me.

This essay is taking longer than I expected. Maybe it won't be finished by the "deadline." Maybe it will.

As the ticking of time passes without patience, as another song vibrates into my ears, as lush green leaves from the outside trees shake in accordance with some unseen breeze, and as tribes of other caffeine wanderers continue to sip away the afternoon around me, I sit here focusing on everything but the essay that is supposedly due tomorrow.

I know inside that this paper will eventually be done by tonight. I'll take my time with it though. It's one of the few choices in this journey of teaching English that is entirely mine and I'm going to take it for a joyride.

Buckle your seatbelt.


To be continued...

Last Call

Writer's Note: This entry was written two days ago :)


I find myself standing behind the glistening flat-topped silver barrier known to most as the bar at Wellington's.

The slicing sensation of a freshly opened bottled beverage sends an icy chill to the palm of my right hand as I take in the horizon of an empty room. Final patrons have paid their tabs, the register has been successfully closed, and each required individual side-work has been accomplished without issue. The only remaining disturbance to the otherwise serene atmosphere of the bar is a hardly recognizable rhythm originating from a low volume stereo system.

The twilight of the day has passed and impenetrable views of layered blackness from every visible window give an impression that nothing exists from beyond the bar doorway. With a quick combination of taps along computer screen via a free index finger the shift for today has now officially reached its timely climax. 

For me the final routine before locking up and making way towards home has usually been clicking off the soundtrack of the evening then flicking off the lights. Normally at this point it should feel refreshing knowing that within a short series of instants a couch for relaxing will be in reach however tonight is hardly the case. 

I find myself standing here, beer in hand, shirt untucked, behind the bar of Wellington's with zero desire to turn off the music. 

Looking down towards the circular button to silence the room a wave of sadness, nostalgia & fear enters my consciousness. Sadness exists because once the music stops I will no longer be an employee of Wellington's Wine Bar in Sausalito. Today, Sunday August 3rd 2014, was my last official shift as a member of the Wellington's family. Tomorrow morning at 9:30am I will start a TESOL (Teach English as a Second Language) course in San Francisco as a step towards preparing for a year long move to Murcia, Spain. Once abroad I will commence a contract teaching elementary students my native language. The opportunity to work in a different country is something that leaves me extremely excited yet at the same time a little scared since I have never taught a class of students before.

The globe shaped button that is now directly in front of me will serve as the final period mark to one chapter in life. Knowing that the climactic phrase for this page of happenings has nearly autographed itself to it's unavoidable ending I stand here feeling honored to have served, trusted, and befriended the wide variety of characters who took a part in its storyline.

Taking a lingering sip from the drink in hand I stand truly thankful to have known the people who have frequented this bar since the moment I took a place behind it's metallic confines. From the online coupon carriers to the long time regulars it was an honor being of service and more importantly it was a pleasure getting to know you. Even if it was for a single half glass of wine I still cherish the moment we briefly shared together. You will probably never read this and most likely don't know who I am but I won't hold that against you :) Another savory taste and a nearly empty bottle within hand raises itself in dedication to Julie, Jeremy, Justin, Ken, Ryan, Russell, Evan, Emily & Annabelle. I will probably never call you my coworkers ever again and in my heart this is alright because from this day forward you will have a more important title: My friends. 

The bottle that was previously in my hand has somehow found itself lowered within a nearby recycling container and a finger is now pressing it's hand with pride along the smoothly round button. 

With all of my heart I wish that the soft beat of the song would never end but deep inside I know that changes like this are a necessary part of life. May this chapter rest in peace. Within a flash of an instant I'm now a civilian disguised in a Wellington's uniform.

In the sixteen months of working for this establishment I had never asked a person to leave the bar. 

It's only fitting that the first guest to be escorted out should be myself.

The lights are fully dimmed and this is my last call. Thank you for everything Wellington's Wine Bar, you will never be forgotten. Locking the door behind me I exit the bar the same way entered on my first day over a year ago, with my head held high.

Cheers.

Weddings & Reunions

Note: Written yesterday 

Today is Thursday and currently I am taking in various shapes and arrangements of clouds via a window-side seat from a Sun Country airlines plane. The sun is initializing its final dissent towards other sides of the world, leg room is quite spacious, and the relaxing sea of hovering grey spherical mist engulfing each corner of the visible horizon makes napping sound like a pretty decent idea.

Within two hours I will be in Minneapolis and shortly afterwards a final landing will guide me into the city of Boston. The purpose of this trip is to see two very close friends, Chris Williams & Caitlin Schwinden, get married in a small beach town outside of Plymouth. Ryan Day, Kyle Spurr, Charlie Brown, and Chris Griel who are also some really great people, will also be in attendance which makes this weekend special for numerous reasons besides a wedding. 

It's been close to two years since all of us have been together in the same place which makes me feel extremely excited yet fairly sorry for the town of Plymouth. One can only guess knowing our track record what can unfold in the span of a weekend with all of us together again. It hasn't been until this exact moment that the reality for the events of this weekend have felt like they are actually going to happen. Until typing fingers starting constructing words upon the shining screen in front of me the notions of "wedding" and "reunion" felt like abstract concepts from a class missing it's lecture notes. 

All of us have been friends since the beginning of our collegiate career at the Unversity of Montana in Missoula and at some point have mostly all been roommates either in dorms or off campus. As if through the lense of a projector a dense book of memories flip tirelessly through the back of my mind. Flashes of garage parties during the freeze of winter, bicycle adventures through downtown allyways, beers shared on linked innertubes, frisbie on the Oval & fateful Luao parties immediately replay like a dusty home movie. I feel blessed to have wandered, made mistakes, laughed, grown up (sort of), and simply lived with the people whom I'm about to see in a matter of hours. They have been some of the biggest influences in my life and I will always be proud to be their friend.

Sitting in this airplane it's becoming apparent that the light outside is dimming and the clouds are losing visibility. Despite everything in front of me getting swept away into blackness of a sinking sun I know in my heart that the future is only shining for Chris and Caitlin. Thank you guys for inviting me to celebrate the beginnings of something truly special. 

Best of luck to you both, I didn't buy you guys a gift so hopefully this makes up for it even though I know a waffle maker would have been really awesome ;)

Epilogue

Pressing the index finger and thumb of my right hand along the cylinder shaped plastic of a black inked pen I pause to stare at the blank page glancing back at me. Like an impatient dance partner the thin pre-traced lines await the initial steps of a soon-to-be word inspired tango.

In this particular moment I know exactly what I want to write but feel a block of uncertainty towards the correct way of expressing it officially on paper. There was a reason for my sitting down in the common area of my families' house and to take a short break from daily obligations and events. As I sit slightly confused yet increasingly frustrated the primary solution to this first world problem is simply to grant the writing utensil a green light and let it accelerate freely within the book's boundaries. 

Both sides of this newly purchased moleskin notebook have been pinned to the coffee table for what feels like a lifetime and still the message I want to document fails to leave it's final mark. For me the first page of a newly bought moleskin is like an epilogue of a story that has yet to be read. One mishap from the opening phrase could prove disastrous for the remaining hundred and something pages.

In the past I had purchased notebooks as a means of recording previous wanderings in other parts of the world and the item reflecting back at me has been commissioned precisely for the same role. I bought this book because a change is approaching. For over a year I have been working, saving, and preparing for an unknown new chapter in life but it wasn't until a handful of weeks ago that a light finally presented itself with a specific direction. The muscles in my hand have the forthcoming words already memorized yet a cloud of mixed emotions keeps raining drops of forgetfulness. 

I soon realize that fear is holding the pen back from completing it's natural task because once the message tattoos itself along the opening canvas of blank page it makes official in my heart the future events about to unfold. Life in California has become increasingly comfortable and as each day passes it's easier to picture myself developing a rooted life in this part of the world for a long time, quite possibly forever. I love and have a strong respect for everyone who has entered and played a part of my life since returning home from South America back last Spring. The friendships gained and maintained from a year at home are gifts that I am truly thankful to have received thus generating an powerful internal brake of literary restraint. However the rhythm of my heart is signaling for a time to explore, a call to wandering arms, and a tying of traveling shoelaces towards a sphere of completely unknown. 

I'm terrified. One word releases itself onto the page, followed by one more, then another and soon another. 

"Today is Thursday June 5th and on September 15th 2014 I will be moving to Murcia, Spain to work as an English teacher for a year."

Without breathing I silence the screaming pages by closing the book and hastily place it down along the coffee table. Standing up I sense the desire to flee what at first appears like the scene of a crime. Turning around I take a long look at the moleskin, bring it back into palm of the guilty hand that heaved the imaginary window shattering stone, and placed it softly within the sleeve of my back pocket. 

I have no idea what the next sentence will look like but this reminds me that life is too short to not do what you love. A lot of blank pages are waiting to be filled. 

Thank you for reading this blog, it means more than you will ever know, and be ready for updates because it's official: 

I'm moving to Murcia, Spain :)

Footprints

Last Thursday started like any other. A snooze button was pressed several times before getting out of bed, a small steaming cup of coffee was purchased from a corner cafe, errands were initiated, and a normal shift behind the bar where I work was completed.

However one week ago on this very day something wasn't the same. A spring to each step was lacking energy, drowsiness from the night before lingered a few hours longer than normal, and at the bar a series of spills left bandaged fingers as the victim of personal clumsiness. Besides the sharp sting from broken glass the only distinguishable feeling once last call was reached was that of slight internal vacancy. Something inside wasn't fully present.

An evening breeze swiped against my face a with slightly dissimilar velocity from nights prior as I hiked with heavy feet up the street to my house where my parents were also winding down from their own series of daily happenings.

Normally we would sit together and chat but tonight there only sat an urge to climb upstairs to my room and simply sleep away the oddness of the day's rhythm.

As I slowly climbed up into the blackness of my room a clanging of intense rattles from the blinds of a distant open window gave notice that the wind outside wasn't ceasing its rolling relentlessness. Instinctively reaching for the light-switch at the doorway to my room the attic style living quarters instantly illuminated and tints of soft yellows projected themselves along each corner. A slow sigh of relaxation whispered calmness into the room however within instants an eruption of hisses from the disturbed window shades brought an undesired liveliness.

The commotion was coming from an enclosed walk-in storage space to the side of my dresser that rarely was used. Stomping with urgency to shut the window I caught sight of something that brought a wave of nostalgia to my eyelids.

Buried beneath a bag of saved childhood mementos sat something that I laid to rest a long time ago. An item that shamefully had been left forgotten and grown dormant through lack of proper attention. It was the travel backpack that had served as my companion in last year's trip to South America and instantly a date in time rushed to the front of my recollections. March 27, 2013. This day in history marked a final series of tracks down south, a return home, and pivotal footprints forward towards a different chapter in life. That was precisely one year ago last Thursday.

One year ago on this day I promised this grey oversized partner of adventure, and myself for that matter, that there would soon arrive a day when we would ride again. The "see-you-soons" of last year now stung like fateful "good-byes" and "never-agains."

For 365 days a close friend had been left behind and merely glancing at a mirror could determine who was truly responsible. Reaching out to feel the scarred canvas of the backpack I slung it over my shoulders just to see if it still remembered who I was, to once again reminisce of how it felt to have it close again.

Standing in the blackness of this concealed storage room desperate murmurs from gusts of invisible air collided against the now fully locked window.

Tugging the harnesses closer together I could feel the rustling of a soup kitchen in Bogota, slightly releasing one cord the sensation of a Spanish classroom in Quito flickered then evaporated, bending slightly forward I caught a quick glimpse of a hiking shoe disappearing from a Peruvian collectivo, shaking both straps the sounds of cumbia music echoed from some unknown origin. The contents within this travel sack didn't feel like anything that important but then again they felt like everything that truly mattered.

The soles of my feet began to shudder and knees buckled like a horse taking on an obese rider. The travel pack was beginning to gain weight over my shoulders and it was practically unbearable. Hastily dropping it to the floor I curiously unzipped it's main compartment to see what was making it so dense.

Reaching my hand through its main compartment there was absolutely nothing inside. Not a single relic remained in its confines after a year in exile.

The wind outside vanished. The only disruption to this now ghostly silent room was the sound of my parent's downstairs television and a sinking from my heart. The internal off-beat flow of today matched the state of how I had left this once loyal companion: Utterly hollow.

In my heart I knew that foreign sunsets, unfrequented pathways, fine-printed passport stamps, and endless potential firsts and lasts awaited out in the world. It couldn't be done alone.

I extended an apologetic hand in greeting down to one of the shoulder straps and tugged the clumsy over sized backpack once again upon my shoulders. I didn't know if it would ever forgive me and be open to getting lost with me again but with a gentle nod I re-positioned it where it should have been all along: Next to my bed.

Before going to sleep a single piece of paper was torn out of a nearby notebook, a quick note was written, folded gently, then climactically tucked inside a compartment that had for 365 days grown withered with neglect. A ripped sheet of paper isn't much, but I swore to myself that my partner in wanderings would never sit empty again.

Turning off the lights to my bedroom the note read:

"September 2014, with Love and Footprints"

One week ago on a Thursday I received the best sleep I had gotten in a very long time, quite possibly a year.

The Sound of Silence

I found myself sitting within the confines of a heavily windowed bakery in the midst of an afternoon lunch rush. Beigely tinted walls displaying paintings from various local artists and aromas of freshly created bread products accompanied a room buzzing with patrons. I had just received a generously portioned green salad and taken a corner seat along a community bar-style table looking outward into a patio dining area. Tall canvas umbrellas stood guard against bright curtans of yellow sunlight as diners enjoyed their meals.

Not quite knowing the exact reason, possibly out of forgetfulness or maybe out of a desire to be disconnected for a few moments, I had left my cell phone inside my car while taking in the flavors of the food in front of me. The immediate sensation was that of nakedness or slight self consciousness since this pocket-sized social crutch was rarely out of personal reach. There wasn´t even a book or piece of paper in my possession to serve as a slight layer of distracting comfort. Looking around to make sure the internal uncertainness was just an false element of imagination rather than an increasing reality, a calming fan of relaxation sprinkled the salad with a slightly more enjoyable taste. Rearranging the entrapped assortment of vegetables with the fork in my hand I found myself delaying the final bites of a now decreasing portion of lunch. 

A few millimeters of glass from the window directly in front of me was all that separated my presence from the wheel of people entering, exiting, and congregating within the outdoor patio. My attention became absorbed in the casual sites outside the window as an elderly woman stationed herself three seats to my left along the bar-style table. At first her presence wasn´t something that warranted much notice since the room was already filled with dozens of other feasting customers. However as time dwindled forward it became evident that oddly within this precise moment we by coincidence were sharing a great deal in common. She too was without a cell phone or book in hand and was simply watching the scores of tables filled with people through the looking window. She was silently observing the crowds with curious intent and I too was silent doing the exact same thing. The views were nothing special but the feeling of being fully present made them seem increasingly pleasant, even freeing.

I couldn´t remember the last time being physically next someone who was equally as concentrated on their surroundings without the influence of personal distractions nearby. This realization gave me an urge to get this random woman´s attention, to ask her questions about her life, to know what she was thinking, to even know how her meal was tasting. I simply wanted to know who she was. Yet at the same time the quietness was satisfyingly melodic, like a painting that didn´t warrant a further brush stroke, and despite the internal debating I let the moment ride itself to an abrupt conclusion when finally the woman stood up, left her empty plate on the table, and continued living the rest of her life. 

I looked up immediately and for a flicker of a second our eyes locked entirely, however within the same eclipsing of time our paths grew increasingly distant. Maybe similar thoughts were pacing through her mind but this is something I'll never know. 

The aftertaste of the green salad lingered as I stood up, folded napkin upon plate, and like the elderly woman before me, continued with the rest of my life.