The Final Post

Hey Blogspot,

How are you? Can you believe it’s been almost a month since we last spoke? What’s been going on since the last time I published a piece with you? Oh wow nice, I’m really glad to hear that everything has been going well. Things on this side of the computer are going pretty well too, thanks for asking.

Look, I know that it’s raining outside and that I have a warm cup of home-brewed coffee sitting next to me, which usually means that I am thinking of writing something with you. As these words flash in front of me on laptop screen I can remember the first post we finished together on August 3rd, 2012 called “Last Missoula Days.” I was 24 years old and you were only about 24 minutes old. On that day in Missoula, Montana I thought we were only about to have a small summer romance that wouldn’t last longer than the duration of a trip down to South America. However, when I returned to home to the Bay Area, it didn’t feel right to walk away from something that had only just started to blossom.

Now, after nearly 80 posts, we are sitting here together in what has been a four year relationship that has survived time and patches of severe writer’s block. It’s been an amazing journey. Honestly without you, and support of friends who have read you, I wouldn’t be the person I who am today. 

However, after having said all this, I have to tell you something that might make you upset. 

I’ve starting seeing someone else. 

Look, please don’t turn off and log me out of Blogger just yet. Before you say anything I want you to know that it’s not because you aren’t incredible or because I don’t love writing with you. I think you’re great. We have posted a lot of experiences together, and they are things that I will never forget. Each post that we have started and finished were important for the both of us, but inside I can sense that something is growing distant between us. I’m now almost 30 years old and not the same person who you met at an online chatroom back in Missoula.

I’ve changed since then, and I hate to say this but you haven’t at all. We don't connect as frequently as we used to, you give me a hard time whenever I try to ad some photos to our posts, and you never like it when I try to change your font. Sorry for venting, it’s just that I have to be honest. You have always been there as a writing companion, and for that reason it’s really hard to say these words to you. 

I truly will always love and care about you, but it’s time for something new. 

Who is my new writing companion? Well, this is a little awkward but she has the same name as you. Gosh I feel bad about that. Her name is So There I Was except that she is a Wordpress site. Look, please don't give me that look. She knows all about you and thinks that you are cool, so how about the three of us be friends? We can get a coffee together and reminisce of about the 70 something posts that we have accomplished in cafe’s, busses, planes, benches, and under the shade of ficus trees. 

You aren’t mad at me? Oh wow, ok well that is good news. Thank you for understanding. 

Well Blogspot, it’s been an wonderful four years. A winter breeze is telling me that it’s time to go. There’s a lot of world yet to be explored and lot of inspiration waiting to be discovered. I sincerely apologize that the next random passage of life wanderings won’t be written with you but we will always be together in spirit. Thank you for everything. You look just like you did when we first met, a little plain but still stunning. 

I’m just kidding, you aren’t plain. You’re perfect.

With all my love, 

Daniel B Catena

P.S. Just in case you want to send a postcard....Here is where you can say hello to me from time to time :)

Aloha's

As I walked in search of an Internet cafe two hours ago the sun began it's routine decent towards the visible horizon and eventually as I crossed between streets the only thing keeping me from complete darkness were overhead street lamps. The sky became completely black as I exited the building and paced alongside palm tree laced sidewalks towards the city center. 

Currently I find myself in Malaga, a medium sized Spanish city that hugs the often sunny Andalucian coastline. Famous for its beaches and as the birthplace of Pablo Picasso, I arrived here last night after a brief twenty four hour visit of Amsterdam. The daylight that escaped a few hours ago was the last sunset that I will see in Spain for possibly a long time because tomorrow morning before it rises again I will already be flying home. 

In less than ten hours I will be on a Norweigan Airlines flight destined for Los Angeles and a second plane will eventually send me to San Francisco. A trip that started with wandering New York City with one of my best friends Jack Colombo is now coming to a close in Malaga, Spain. A lot of different feelings have arisen since saying goodbye to close friends and former co-workers in Murcia. Sadness, happiness, readiness, and curiousness are all ingredients of a current smoothie of change. I feel sad parting ways yet again with a life that was created last school year but at the same time I feel ready to start progressing towards a new set of goals that have blueprinted in my mind during the course of this trip. Inside I know it's time to come back, to be with family, to see friends from home, and also to start working again. A big thank you to my bosses Julie and Kamran at Cellar Door is necessary because they were generous in letting me keep my job for when I came back. 

After visiting Nuestra Señora de Los Angeles in El Esparragal one last time on Friday and saying "hasta pronto" to my friend/mentor Ascen, the students, and the rest of the teaching staff, a farewell dinner was hosted at Lola's house. Food, laughs, and goodbyes were shared between myself and some really great people. Early the next morning I left my set of house keys on Lola's, my host in Murcia, desk and walked with a full backpack to the cities' bus terminal. The sun was beginning to lift it's head above morning clouds as I headed via an ALSA bus to the Alicante airport and flew to Amsterdam. 

The reason for a single night in Amsterdam was to meet up with a longtime friend Jow Gallardo. We met when I was traveling in Quito, Ecuador over three years ago and the last time we hung out was during a night of dancing with Nick Holmberg at Bungalow 6 in March 2013. She currently is studying German in Düsseldorf and by luck we were able to arrange a time to see each other before both of our Europe experiences drew to a close. In spirit with us were Nick and John Beswick, the other two members of our "Wolfpack" who weren't able to make the journey. Jow, her friend Adriana, and myself met in the lobby of the Hans Brinker Hotel yesterday afternoon. From there we took advantage of our single day in the city by going to the Anne Frank House, the Sex Museum, Red Light District, Kebabs, dancing at the Remember Cafe, and more dancing at Smokey's Bar. After multiple attempts we were unable to get a DJ to play the original version of "Light it Up" by Mazor Lazor however we did hear a few interesting remixes.

After taking pictures on Sunday morning in front of the "I Amsterdam" sign it started to snow. This was a cold signal that it was time to leave the city, and a short while afterwards the three of us parted ways. It was truly great to see Jow again, and like I've written in previous posts I absolutely know that we will see each other again in someplace in the world. 

Jow and Adriana took a bus back to Düsseldorf as I boarded a plane to Malaga. The main reason for me coming here was to visit the small white painted Andalucian town of Ronda. I saw a picture this place for a brief instant last year in a magazine I can't remember and from that moment I wanted to witness it with my own eyes. With an unreal mountainous cliff passageway that guides visitors to a monumental stone bridge the town of Ronda has statues dedicated to Orson Wells and my personal favorite Ernest Hemingway. The views of Ronda are hard to capture with words but as I crossed Puente Nuevo which was constructed in the 1700's inside it felt fitting to have waited to see this place during my last day of the journey. 

It's been nearly seven weeks since seeing family and good friends in the United States. I feel lucky to have had the opportunity to do this trip, and I feel equally fortunate to have people like you to share it with. Writing about things like this are for me a way to remember because my memory is mediocre at best, but also because even though traveling is a major passion of mine, maintaining bonds with people who are important to me is also a life passion. Thank you for reading, for being my friend, and for being truly awesome. 

Tomorrow I'll be home in California. As one journey ends another one continues where it was last put on temporary pause. 

This isn't goodbye, Spain. After leaving and coming back I know that will share a tapa together again. Take care of yourself and save a seat at the dinner table because you will see me again soon :)

This isn't goodbye, 

this is Aloha.

The Best House in Limerick

Today is Thursday and currently I am drinking a Roobois tea in Cafe Haskell, my favorite cafe in Murcia. With 80's music playing from a white ceiling speaker this Italian owned hangout is half full with university students and families chatting about things I can't understand. 

It's been a while since writing and the past two weeks have been mainly filled with sharing time between visiting my old primary schools from last year, Vicente Medina in Azarbe and Nuestra Señora de Los Angeles in El Esparragal. Despite a seven month gap since last working as an English Language Assistent the friendships and bonds created between myself and the people in those schools haven't felt the strain of long distance. It's been uplifting to be back in the classroom, and after only revisiting each primary school a handful of times during this vacation a strong desire to return to Murcia has started to circulate in my mind. Seeing kids wanting to learn English and more importantly being excited to have their old teacher back has given me inspiration to pursue this route further. 

Outside of school I've been reconnecting with friends from last year. Going on a "Ruta de Tapa," having coffee at Ficciones, catching a show at Revolver, walks along the Segura River, and trying out previously unfrequented bars like Tremolo, Cafe Zalacaín, and El Ahorcado Feliz have been some of the activities undertaken since coming back to Murcia. A large number of English teacher friends from last year didn't come back for a second contract in Murcia. Despite a lack of familiar faces, some really great people are still here and it's been truly great to spend at least a little bit of time with them again. More friends gained through intercambios are still either in Murcia or in El Esparragal which has been nice as well. Lieven and Claudia, Lola, Jesus, Lorena, Laura, Zaimi, Charo, David, Sarah, Gretchen and Lindsey are a few close friends who are fortunately still here and I feel very luckily to have seen them.

One of the biggest highlights of this trip was a reunion of what a select few used to call "The Best House in Murcia." This group consisted of Lola, myself, and our friend Lucia who is currently working in Limerick, Ireland. The three of us lived together most of last year and we hadn't been in the same place since parting ways at a bus station in June. We gave our house that unofficial title and maintained contact through a whatsapp group with the same name. Last weekend Lola, her friend Manuela, and myself booked a plane to Dublin, Ireland then rented a car to go visit Lucia in Limerick. 

The time together was for only three days, however we managed to visit some really interesting places like the Cliffs of Moher, Lahinch Beach, Galway's Latin Quarter for seafood, Gleudalough, a roadside cabin-style restaurant for Irish Coffees, listened to Celtic music at pubs while have some necessary Guinness', and exploring Limerick's dance scene at Nancy's during a causally rain soaked evening. 

It was great to see Lucia and having "The Best House" together in a different place outside of Murcia was special. This world we live in is huge, yet at the same time it can feel ever so small. I don't know when we will all be together again, perhaps in Lola's house or maybe in a pub drinking a dark tinted beer at a still completely unknown location. I'm not worried about it because deep down I know we will meet again, someway and somewhere. 

This blog post started with tea at Haskell and it's about to end with an Alhambra beer at Cafe Ficciones. In a few minutes I'm about to meet up with some friends to get tapas in a nearby plaza, chat in English, then give a round of hugs...of farewell. 

In two days I'm leaving Murcia and in less than a week I'll be back home. The trip that started on December 29th, 2015 is about be given a toast of completion on February 16th, 2016. I'm grateful for this experience but equally as excited to be making a return to the Bay Area. To anyone from home who is reading this we should definitely make plans to hang out!

More updates are coming soon, enjoy your day and more importantly enjoy being you. 

Cheers.

Lost & Found in Girona

Today is Saturday and in this moment I am drinking an afternoon black coffee, eating "un trozo de pulpo" aka a piece of cooked squid, and slowly waking up for the start of the weekend. I'm seated at the bar of a cafeteria style restaurant called Confiteria which is  a neighborhood eating spot for Murcian locals who live in the area of Vista Alegre. Vista Alegre is where my friend Lola's house is located and this has been my temporary residence since coming back to Murcia. 

Over a week ago I was watching the sunrise in an ALSA bus, writing in this blog, preparing to meet up with a waiting BlaBla driver in Alicante, then share a ride up along the coast. Originally the idea was to head north and spend two nights in Girona, a couple more in Barcelona, and a few days reserved for a flight to Portugal with Lisbon being the destination. Upon returning back to Murcia this past Wednesday I ended up spending an extra day in both Girona and Barcelona, then electing to come back early in order to spend time at the elementary school Vicente Medina instead of visiting Portugal. Vicente Medina was a second school where I worked last year and it was the first time seeing everyone there in over seven months. 

Laura was the main reason for me making the trip to Girona because she is a good friend from Couchsurfing. This was the first time that we had actually "met" each other because we had for the past few years only been long distance language exchange pen-pals. She is currently studying abroad in Girona and this was the only window of free time that she had from studying to meet up. It was great seeing her and she did an awesome job of playing the role of tour guide. 

Girona is a small city that sits about an hour north of Barcelona. The primary language spoken there is Catalan and the only time I heard people speaking Spanish was when they were directly speaking to me or Laura. Catalan is the first language spoken for people of Cataluña, the autonomous region in Spain where Girona is located. It is famous for their heavy desire to gain independence from the rest of the country. Red, yellow and blue banners hung from countless narrow balconies in support of their region and people greeted each other with "Bon Dia" or "Merci."  

Despite bring considerably smaller than Murcia, Girona boasts some spectacular views and offers a great deal of sites for travelers to visit. I stayed at Room in Girona Backpackers which sits along the waterfront of the Oñar River. The historical part of the city is disected by the Oñar and some beautiful pictures can be taken along any of the numerous bridges that serve as walkways for a consistent flow of foot traffic. Two bridges that are really interesting are Stone Bridge (Puente de Piedra) and Eiffel Bridge (Puente de Hierro) which was built by the same company that constructed Paris' Eiffel Tower. Girona also has a very beautiful cathedral, gardens, lion monuments, restaurant scene around Plaza de la Libertad, and a fortified wall passageway along it's Barri Vell also known as historical district. Girona doesn't have as active a nightlife as Murcia, however a few places like Solero or König are good for a evening out in the town. Girona is also nice due to its easy access to small yet very interesting cities such as Figueras or Besalú. 

I didn't expect to have such a good time in Girona, and I also didn't expect to lose my travel journal during the journey north before arriving there. Somewhere between Alicante and Barcelona a thin grey journal is resting in peace, possibly at a gas station or in the beak of a majestic Spanish seagull as it soars through the sky. One month of writing, lists of places, and lists of names from experiences in New York, Barcelona, and Murcia has been lost due to personal clumsiness. Recounting and relogging them in my backup journal has been like retracing phases of life after waking up from a coma. Names of some people or places have now been rewritten based on the details I remember. Waspy guy, New York jazz bar,  tall black French girl, French 75 bar owner, booger girl, BlaBla guy,  language exchange Barcelonan, and Chinese exchange student are some of the titles that have taken the place of actual names. These people and places have all played a role in this trip, so not remembering names makes me feel like a jerk. Hopefully they will pop back up into the leaky balloon of my mind during a spontaneous moment in the future. Luckily pictures have been backed up so not everything has been erased. 

After filling a handful of pages in my new journal about Girona I returned to Barcelona for a second time during this trip. The majority of time spent there was dedicated towards hanging out with friends from Hostel One Backpackers, drinking Nømad coffee, having Chen Ji Chinese food, El Dorado Chicken for a second time, hanging out in a couple plazas, and seeing a few people who were met during the first trip a few weeks ago. A separate blog post about Barcelona will be coming at some point in the future :)

Due to an extended stay in Girona and Barcelona, Portugal for the time being will continue to sit in an internal travel "to-do" list. Inside it feels ok to have not gone there this time around, and it will be simply serve as another excuse to come back to Europe sometime in the not so distant future :)

This blog post is once again very lengthy so I think you deserve to treat yourself to a beer or chilled non alcholihic beverage if you have made it this far! More updates are coming soon and I hope that you are having a wonderful day or evening.

Cheers!

Girona vía Murcia

Typing on white and off grey smartphone keyboard the humming of a speeding ALSA bus engine is the only thing I can hear. It's about seven in the morning and looking out the window of this moving vehicle I can only see blackness and an occasional white freckle of unnamed stars in a predawn sky. 

Having just left Murcia in a transit bus I am making my way towards neighboring city Alicante and from there I will connect with a BlaBla car that is destined for Barcelona. From Barcelona I will take a train or bus to Girona, which is about an hour northeast. Today is the the beginning of what will be about an eight day mini trip consisting of two days in Girona, about three more in Barcelona, and probably three nights in Lisbon, Portugal. 

The last blog post was written in Babelia Books & Coffee, a very relaxed place to drink a caffeinated beverage in Barcelona. Upon walking out of the coffee shop that day I spent the majority of The next handful of days walking around, drinking more coffee at a whim, and taking in the atmosphere of various neighborhoods in this very explore friendly city. Since I came to Barcelona alone I decided to not be a loner the entire time and attended various language exchange Meetups at different bars where I was fortunate in meeting some really cool people from different parts of the world. I didn't visit La Sagrada familia but some of my favorite places in Barcelona included parts of Park Güel, the neighborhood La Gracia, Mirador de Midgita, and Gypsy Lou's for nightlife. The Sunday before leaving I was able to meet up with a girl named Jessica who is a former neighbor of my good buddy Sebastian and her expat lifestyle left me inspired to follow in her footsteps. A failed BlaBla car attempt the following day had me spending an extra night in the city and by coincidence I found myself staying at an unmarked residential hostel that turned out to be Hostel One Backpackers in upper La Gracia. Some really nice people were met there and I might be booking a few nights again this weekend when I revisit the city. 

Barcelona might be my favorite city and having an opportunity to come back this weekend makes me feel very lucky. 

A second and this time successful BalBla car attempt had me sharing a ride with a couple Catalonians, Jaime and his wife/girlfriend Pilar, down to the city where last year I taught English: Murcia. 

For the past eight days I have been crashing at my friend and former landlord Lola's house. We made a deal where this time she should wouldn't charge rent in exchange for me painting various rooms in her house. It's been great staying there again and the only part missing is Lucia, who is currently working in Ireland. 

Coming back to Murcia has been overwhelming and nothing less than joyful. The majority of the last eight days since coming back has been spent reconnecting with some close friends from last school year and also volunteering at the primary school Nuestra Señora de los Angeles where I once was an English language assistant. 

This current bus ride where the sky is starting to turn orange and red along the horizon will serve as the opening page of a temporary break from seeing friends in Murcia because next weekend I'll be returning to Lola's. 

I plan on visiting in Girona my friend Laura who I met through a Couchsurfing language exchange three years ago. We have only been friends via Skype so it should be fun meeting her in person for the first time. In Barcelona no plans have been made except for a cup of coffee, and in Lisbon no plans have been made except for a day trip to a small Portguese city called Cascais. Cascais is a sister city to my hometown, Sausalito in California, and I am going to see if the government there will give me some free stuff :)

This blog post is overdue and over filled with words. I hope that whoever is reading this is having a great day and is happy. I can't see you but I think you're beautiful.

Updates are coming soon :)

Sincerely,

Daniel Catena 

When in San Antoni

I can hear mid conversations of people from unseen tables behind me as I sit with a gradually sipped cup of espresso and water. I find myself starting the day at Babelia Books & Coffee and glancing at a food menu that is typed in Spanish, Catalan, and English. This is my second time coming here in as many days because its laid back atmosphere and rows of used books lining one of its peach colored walls gives me a false sense of productivity. For the last four days I've been in Barcelona, currently winning the race as my favorite city in Spain.

The last time I wrote in this blog I was waiting to leave the Bay Area with one of my best friends Jack Colombo. This was about twelve days ago and our destination in that moment was New York City. Jack hosted me at his Williamserg apartment and did a really good job of making me want to move East sometime maybe in the forseable future. The main plan for NYC was to see one of our favorite French DJ duos Justice do a New Years Eve show in Red Hook which was really fun. We also tapped into the cities' pizza scene by trying Joe's and NY Pizza Suprema. These places mixed with Paris style jazz bars, ice-less whiskey with a waspy Vail guy, a Halal Guys recovery day, Kava buzzes, double dipping on juice, Momofuku ramen, Caracus Arepas with friends Josh & Danielle, Ippudo noodles with our buddy Mike, catching a Cate Blanchet lesbian movie at Nitehawk, and a reunion with former Missoula roommate Mark Balcerak, made this trip one that I am truly fortunate to have experienced. It was great reconnecting with long time friends and look forward to the next get together. 

The temperature in New York got progressively colder and by the time it was time for me to pack my things it was hard to stand outside without fantasizing about the next time you'll be warm. After some goodbyes I took a couple trains to JFK airport. From New York I hopped a flight to Stockholm where I had a layover for a few hours the boarded a last plane down to Barcelona. Arriving into this coastal Catalonian capital I reserved two nights at the Be Mar Hostel located in El Raval, a neighborhood that borders the bohemian city center. After two nights with Chilean bunk mates I decided to change living arrangements and now find myself staying in an AirBnb in the neighborhood of San Antoni. 

There is very little that I don't want to say about Barcelona. Since arriving here I've been intentionally trying to get myself lost, whether it be in some narrow alley, staring at a piece of curious urban art, in the reflection of a beautifully dark cup of coffee, or in conversation with someone who has enough patience to listen to my gringo Spanish. 

I'll be wandering here until Tuesday and from there I will book a bus or a BlaBla car down to a place that I used to call home, Murcia. 

More updates are coming soon ;)

If you're reading this far, once again thank you! Take good care of yourself, brush your teeth before bedtime, and Happy New Year. I feel honored to be a part of your life, even if it just started at the top if this page and only lasts until this unavoidable yet necessary final period mark.

Spanish Handshakes

In this exact instant I find myself in the center seat of the 23rd row of a Virgin America airplane. Besides the constant humming of jet engine combined with random soft jolts of slight turbulence the cabin is completely silent. Takeoff was only thirty minutes ago and as music is  playing in my white earbuds my good friend Jack Colombo is in the chair next to me. 

It's been six months since riding in an airplane and despite the limited leg space and lack of free movies it feels good to be on the move towards somewhere again. The last time I looked out the window of a moving plane it was to return home from teaching English in Murcia, Spain at the beginning of the summer. Our landing destination will be New York, Jack's current stomping grounds. The plan is to celebrate New Years in Brooklyn this upcoming Thursday, mix in some random exploring around the Big Apple, hopefully catch up with a few other longtime friends who are living in this part of the East Coast, then leaving the city on January 4th.

Upon arriving home last June I didn't know what the future would look like. I didn't know that I'd be going to New York for New Years. It was vastly uncertain if I'd be teaching English in Spain for a consecutive school year. It was unknown that I'd land a pretty fun wine bar job in San Francisco and meet a lot of interesting people there. I didn't know how fortunate I'd be to have reconnected with close friends and family since coming back to the Bay Area.

I also didn't know that on January 4th, 2016 I would book a one way ticket back to Spain.

After hanging out with Jack in New York the plane that will send me away from the city won't travel back towards California, it will head accross the Atlantic for a layover in Copenhagen then finally touching ground in Barcelona. 

In this exact moment there isn't a single day of accommodation booked, nor is there an official itinerary once in Spain. The first goal for this trip is first take some time to simply "be" in Barcelona, to drink a black coffee in an open plaza somewhere or possibly try to learn some Catalan words in dim lit bar. The most important and possibly only "real" reason for being back in Spain is to return to Murcia to see my former housemates, English teacher friends, the staff of Nuestra Señora de los Angeles and Vicente Medina, and to see the kids who I once helped teach last school year. 

Being home has been great but I really miss the people who were an important part of the experience that was living in Murcia. Seeing some of them again will be a blessing and I'm not sure how it will feel beyond absolute joy. 

After revisiting, sharing hugs and then handshakes with friends of last year the rest of this trip will be guided by chance and a desire to let Spanish breeze decide.

I don't know how long this will all last, maybe a few weeks or possibly a couple months. I don't know where buses and BlaBla cars will end up taking me. Sunrises and sunsets are the only things I know will happen once Jack and I starting walking towards the exit of the New York airport.

The other only thing I do know is that I'm sitting in an airplane, the leg room is ample, and there is a smile on my face. It's time to enjoy the ride. 

If you've read this far, thank you! Have a great New Year and keep doing what makes you happy :)

 

Those Days in December

On August 13th, 2015 I opened up a newly purchased black moleskin journal and started writing about my day.

It was a Thursday evening and I don't remember my mood or why I decided to scribble in it's first lines during that particular moment.

"Today is Thursday and in this exact moment there is only an hour left in my day at work." 

Nothing more and nothing less was written. For the past few years I have been slowly filling black journals in hopes of remembering small moments, names of people, dates, ideas, and things that have been happening around me. Inside I want my future self to read about these mostly random accounts in order to not forget about experiences.

The moleskin that was started for no real reason on August 13th, 2015 is currently sitting opened faced in front of me atop the faded wood of my families' coffee table located centrally within the breakfast nook of our house.

I find myself seated and a semi-fresh cup of kind-of hot coffee is being guarded by one hand while a black inked pen is in marching formation within a tangle of right hand fingers.

After nearly four months of traveling between my hands and pockets, my backpack, forgotten at work, the backseat of my car and countless coffee shop tables, I find myself looking at a blank page within the now faded in color journal.

The last page.

A single sheet of paper is the last line of defense before purchasing another 190 something page directory of wanderings and going from prologue to epilogue.

It was hard to know that four months would go by before finding myself here in this moment, sitting above this book like a human balloon, looking for a way to properly end a chapter of personal accounts.

I didn't know back in August that I'd writing about being a year older, about attending my high school's ten year reunion, celebrating Thanksgiving in addition to Halloween before reaching the end of this moleskin booklet. Those events mixed with scribbles about meeting up with friends, going to work, being with my parents and describing various surroundings have filled most of this leather companion's contents.  Reflecting on four months of writing has made me grateful for friends and family and they have been a great source of inspiration not only in writing but also to be a better person. I feel blessed to have them in my life, and to you who is reading this I also feel honored that you have taken time to read this blog post.

With one sheet left I don't really know what to write. Some notes about how the current December day has progressed would be appropriate. I ate some really good breakfast tacos earlier today, maybe that would be worth remembering. Or possibly a random thought that just popped into my mind might seem interesting the next time the booklet finds itself fully opened between the palms of an older self's hands.

With pen tip slightly angled and pressed upon the top left corner of the very last page I feel joyed to be at this point, to have gone this far not only in this particular notebook but in life.

Looking back, the past four months are something I would never elect to replace and it's great to have experienced them. In an instant everything can change, and it's impossible to know what December 11th, 2015 will look like. It feels good to simply be here now.

Gazing to the side window my attention is temporarily distracted by a passing car.  I press firmly with the black inked pen between the grey lines of the very last page.

It's just a day in December, but this time I know what mood I'm in.

"If you've made it this far, don't stop, keep going."

Outside it's raining. I can sense that it's almost time to get ready for work.

If I hurry maybe I can swing by the bookstore.

So There I Am

Inside my mind there sits a medley of words floating through a dark void, with no actual direction in which to go. Once a sentence begins to form or take shape it quickly gets scattered like pool balls within an invisible green canvas. Each building block falls apart as more letters circle within my head and no combination seems to take form. Letters begin meeting letters but soon they disappear into a blackness that doesn't want to spit them back out.

For months I have logged into this page, stared at the header, and looked blankly at the black button keyboard of my computer as if waiting for a chess match to begin. A desire to write has sent me back to this blog, ready to take lead in a keyboard tapping partner dance, with hopes of inspiration rising inside like the gradual smoking of an active volcanic mountain. One spark of a free flowing sentence might be the turning point towards a vertical eruption of fiery wordplay lava. One sentence or partial phrase would take temporary haven along a seemingly secure first line but soon would be washed away by a fierce wall of erase button.

Since September this blog has gone through more drafts than a group of friends in an affordable happy hour. Half a page here, a paragraph there, and the only thing keeping me from completely deleting them is that I want my future self to look back and recall how blocked from writing I currently find myself. Glancing at the wreckage of semi constructed posts I feel like a general feeling nothing but pain for his poorly equipped army. The only person to blame is myself, and a flatline of inspiration.

Closing my eyes I can see myself seated uncomfortably in a wooden sail boat, waiting for a gust of wind to take me somewhere, anywhere. The rickety boat, along with this blog, hasn't been moving in any one direction and now the question of dropping anchor and swimming to shore is becoming a higher possibility.

If I made an escape towards land will I ever step foot again on the dock that sent that boat out there in the first place? I slice the tips of my fingers through the chilly liquid surface and upon retracting my hand out of wetness my shoulders send a slight shiver of cold discontent. I chill of memories from prior posts leaves me staring out towards what looks like absolutely nothing.

In a breath I turn my head and look out towards the horizon, towards a completely still field of blue water. Trying to search for the exact line separating sky from sea not a single sensation of natural breeze can be felt. As time continues I soon begin forgetting why I want wind to continue guiding the boat forward, and also don't really see a destination for which to captain it. It's becoming increasingly hard to gaze outward, maybe out of brightness from a now slowly dropping sun as it reflects off of the watery panel in front of me or possibly out of internal fatigue from trying to focus for so long. Before the sun fully sets I want to try and make at least a little progress towards somewhere, however when I try to paddle with my hands the boat simply rotates in an awkward splashing fashion.

I've been waiting for too long for that wind to take me away. Who knows when or if it will ever show it's blustery face again.

It's almost completely dark. Looking out one more time I don't even know if it's the horizon that I'm staring at. I turn towards the back end of the boat, hanging my legs over the side, contemplating a possible goodbye to this old yet loyal wooden partner in wanders that has been a part of me since the days of Missoula, since echoes of dogs barking on rooftops, since looking for shade in El Esparragal, and then..

....open my eyes.



So there I am.

Somewheres and Other Wheres

Three months ago today I was still an English language assistant living in a Murcia, Spain. The eight month teaching contract was nearing a close, the emotional last days of class at Nuestra Señora de los Angeles and Vicente Medina were sneaking closer into sight, and a plane destined for home was already booked. On June 1st, 2015 I can't remember what exactly I was doing, maybe waiting for a bus or possibly having a beer with friends in a shady plaza somewhere. The only thing I can remember from this day in time is what was on my mind. 

Will I come back to Murcia?

In early June I was offered a new contract to return to Murcia for the 2015-2016 school year. I remember telling myself that by September 1st (Today) a final decision will need to be made as to whether a return to teaching in Murcia will be happening next school year. 

Upon returning home, reuniting with family and friends, two lists were made. One was titled "Why I will come back to Murcia" and the other "Why I will stay home." Within minutes the list for why I would come back to Murcia grew quite long. I was fortunate in meeting some incredible people, many of whom I now consider to be lifelong friends. The schools in Azarbe and El Esparragal were incredible, the children were wonderful, and thinking of them makes me feel nothing but absolute joy. Coming to Murcia I wasn't just visiting, I truly felt like I was a citizen of this hardly visited yet vastly underrated city. 

It's been almost three months since writing that first initial list. Like a race between hares and tortoises the list for "Why I will stay home" has slowly been catching up. I forgot how much I missed my family. I forgot how relaxed I felt after watching the sun reflect across the icy blue of the Sausalito bay. Seeing a favorite band with friends who have been there since days of homeroom is something irreplaceable. Mexican food still tastes amazing, and through two jobs I have met some really cool people. 

Three months later I found myself last night at 11:29pm with a list completely tied. Less than thirty minutes remained in what was my personal deadline for coming to internal terms with a plan. With both sides completely equal and still not a clue as to what seemed like a better decision I came to the conclusion that I really want to do both. I deeply want to be in Murcia, to continue with what was started there and see where life goes, but I also really want to be here in the Bay Area because there is nothing love for this place. 

If I chose Murcia I would have to leave in about three weeks from today, tell the bosses of my two jobs that I'm leaving, and say bye again to a lot of people who I had only recently reconnected with. If I chose home I wouldn't be experiencing a new school, new travel destinations, and wouldn't be building on the friendships that were birthed only almost a year ago. 

Blankly staring at the list last night at 11:29pm I sat up from the couch where I was seated, got up, brushed my teeth then washed my face because it was almost time for bed. I walked up the stairs to my room and instead of directly turning off the lights before sleep I grabbed a coin. 

For three months I had been racking my brain, driving myself slightly mad with uncertainty like an unsettled white capped sea, and thinking about where, where, and where. Holding a dollar coin with James Garfield's golden face on it I was sick asking myself questions and ready to move forward towards somewhere or other wheres. 

It was now time for chance to decide. I flipped the coin and closed my eyes. 

If it landed "heads" I would go back to Murcia, if it landed "tails" I would stay home, continue saving up, and continue towards something else.

The coin, along with my stomach, spun for probably two seconds before it connected with fuzzy blue carpet.

I opened my eyes and searched for a shiny golden circle in a sea of faded blue. 

Tails.

With a handful of minutes to spare before midnight I officially decided to turn down a teaching position in Murcia, Spain. I deeply apologize to the school in El Infante where I was assigned for this upcoming year but know that whoever is coming in my place will do an amazing job, probably better than what I would do. Thank you to La Consejeria for the consideration and support. 

With only a handful of minutes before midnight I made a new deadline. December 1st, 2015. 

On December 1st, 2015 I don't know what I'll be doing or what I'll be thinking about. Maybe I'll be waiting for a bus or having a beer with friends. The only thing I do know is where I'll be. 

I'm going to be in Murcia, Spain. This time not as an English teacher but as wanderer with dusty shoes, and more importantly as a friend.  

The coin that's now in my hand bares the image of the Statue of Liberty with the inscription "United States of America." This is where I'll be staying...for now :)

To whoever has taken time out of there day to read this I really appreciate your time, and I also really appreciate you :) 

Sincerely,

Daniel Catena 

In Between American Dreams

Note: Written last night, finished in this exact moment :)

Currently as I write this post there is only one hour left in what was a Monday in late July. The room where I'm seated is completely quiet except for a barely recognizable chatter between unknown people on a random television program.

Sitting on a soft white couch in my living room, my fingers as they tap keyboard are the creating the largest disturbance to the otherwise tranquil house. 

Somewhere else my two new roommates are sleeping so this post is being written as silently as possible. The people sleeping in the house where I'm currently living aren't Lola or Lucia, the people who I lived with for nine months in Murcia: They are my parents, and this "current" place of residence is the house where I grew up in Sausalito, California. Being the last one awake in the house is a tradition we have been keeping for many years now so it feels comfortably familiar to be keeping it going :)

Since returning home from Spain practically a month ago life has changed, in some aspects instantaneously and others quite gradually. 

People walk differently, traffic flows a little differently, conversations between people flow at different paces, and simply the wind hits your face differently. Some friends are now engaged, some have kids, some have new jobs, some are newly single, and some haven't been in touch at all. It's been nice catching up with important people after nine months of temporary absence and refreshing to feel a part of their lives once again.

Slang words that had previously been left in the mental attic have now been opened up like last year's Christmas present. People expect tips, expect you to wait in line, don't get upset if you to pay with credit or debit cards, and it's common to experience good restaurant service. Instead of walking or checking tranvia/bus schedules between places there now exists my own car. It's horribly great how easy I can have access to Goldfish Crackers, Mexican food, and mouth inferno hot sauces again. I can go into a public bathroom and expect there to be soap and hand towels not just one or the other. You can catch people mid conversation about the 49ers rather than debating about who will play against Real Madrid. The scorching white Murcian sun has been replaced by the marshmallow fog of the Bay Area. It's been odd being home but at the same time it's been like a breathe of fresh California air. I don't have to worry about being hot, translating verbs inside my head, or sounding like an American speaking horrible Spanish.

Despite being home from Spain for a month now, the rhythm of home has taken slower to readjust. The first time going grocery shopping in America I accidentally walked into a woman with her food cart, cut off an elderly man between checkout stands, and had absolutely no idea where salad dressing was located. Looking around the store I felt lost with how many options there existed and found myself blocking the flow of store traffic. Like common household items, future plans beyond living with my parents is completely hidden somewhere between unseen store aisles, possibly between the bread and organic hand soap.

Outside of seeing friends, being with family, and taking in the much desired local flavors of home there has been one major goal since returning to the United States: Get a job, save money, decide on the next life step. I'm hoping that achieving one goal will be a gateway towards the others.

So far I have been lucky in landing a part time wine bar job in San Francisco where three nights a week I pretend to know the difference between Merlot and Syrah. After sending dozens of resumes and savaging Craigslist, Monster, and Indeed like that was my second occupation there are some promising opportunities that could surface within the next couple weeks.

One month since between stateside there exists a good chance I will go back to Murcia at the end of September to start a second school year teaching English. However there is a chance I will try to save some money and teach somewhere else, potentially Colombia. There is also a chance that I will land a "career" job and stay stateside for a long time. At this point there is a really good chance of anything happening and it's vastly uncertain where the next steps in life direct themselves. The one thing that has surfaced through the internal lake of life decisions is that one more year of teaching English is something that I really want to accomplish. 

Despite not knowing what exactly the next clear decision will be, having more experiences with good friends and family has been like a resurgence of vitamins missing from a daily diet. Doing brunches, seeing concerts, grabbing a quick beer or simply watching a quick inning of a baseball game on television have been simple experiences that I have greatly missed during my time in Spain. I've missed seeing close friends from home and I also sincerely missed being a close friend. Being back home I feel blessed to have the friends I grew up with and seeing them again, family included, has had more importance than passport stamps. 

As these final words flash along the whiteness of computer screen I don't know what time I'll wake up tomorrow, or even know what the next fifteen minutes post overdo blog posting will look like. The unknown is a little terrifying, yet silently like this house it's something I want to hold onto because I know that soon there will be concrete plans and a definite direction towards something. Having no idea keeps life interesting and forces you to be more "here" than "everywhere else."

The only thing I want to do is embrace not having a clue, being in between jobs, in between plans, and in between dreams.

Cheers for now, you look beautiful, have a nice day :)

Blowing Out the Candles

Today is Tuesday and this blogpost marks my last day in Spain. I find myself drinking a recently brewed cup of coffee in Cafe Haskell, the home away from home that happens to remind me of being home. With quotes from Oscar Wilde about San Francisco painted on its faded blue walls and vintage photos of the Golden Gate Bridge the mental preparation for the upcoming change of scenery is progressing with calmness.

While enjoying what could be my last cup of brew in Murcia I am waiting for pictures to upload onto my computer. The photos being saved are those from a six day trip taken last week to Denmark and Sweden. Knowing that my days in Europe were reaching an end I wanted to say hello to some longtime friends who I haven't seen in quite a while.

After initially flying into Copenhagen I took a Danish version of BlaBla Car to Aarhus, the second largest city Denmark, to see Lonnie and Mia. We met traveling two years ago and the last memory  had of them was seeing them board a passenger bus going towards a destination that I cannot remember. During our two day reunion we visited the ARoS Art Museum, wandered through a sculpture exhibit along the sea, went to an Irish pub trivia, visited the Old Town Museum, and had some amazing homemade Stegt flæsk (sounds like Stick Flisk) which is mostly made with savory bacon. Seeing them again was a truly wonderful experience and I'm looking forward to our next reunion.

The visit in Aarhus was short lived and quickly I boarded a train destined to Copenhagen airport where I would go north into Sweden. After landing in the Stockholm Arlanda airport I booked a bus to Uppsala, a university city that sits within lushly green Swedish countryside. A beautiful and massive brick cathedral overlooks the seemingly tranquil student atmosphere. After a forty minute ride a familiar face was waiting for me at the bus stop. Five years ago Malin, one of my best friends, and I said goodbye to each other in an airport without knowing when we would meet again. We kept in touch and seeing her was truly a surreal experience. Currently living in Uppsala, Malin showed me around her city for a day and we also spent a full day in Stockholm, Sweden's capital. Between salsa dancing in Uppsala, ferry rides through the capital's harbor, and wandering around Stockholm's Gamla Stan, seeing her again was something that will forever keep me in a good mood. We ended our time together similar to how we said farewell five years ago, with backpacks on our shoulders and smiles on our faces. She left for her hometown to see family, and I returned to Stockholm Arlanda airport in order to bounce back down to Copenhagen. 

At eleven in the evening I found myself back in Denmark's largest city, and this time the plan was to stay here for a couple days. A second familiar face greeted me at the airport's large exit terminal. Five years ago, in the same exact hostel where I first met Malin, I met another really great person. Cille, who is from a smaller city in Denmark, is someone who I only spoke with for about an hour in person. The theme of our conversation is something that I truly don't remember but we decided to share emails and planned to keep in touch. For five years we maintained contact and now we were finally going to meet up again. We spent just one full day together with her brother Niles but it was a day that I will remember for the rest of my life. We walked through Copenhagen Park, around the original Carlsberg Brewery, wandered along the colorful Nyhan district waterfront, took a ferry tour, explored the bohemian Christiania, and climbed the tower of The Church of Our Saviour. This was all accomplished before five in the afternoon when Cille and her brother had to hop a train for their hometown. After saying farewell for the first time in five years I spent the rest of the day with Severin, Cille and Nile's older brother, where we relaxed and had pizza while watching some movies. The next morning I left Copenhagen via plane and was greeted by the unforgettable high temperatures of Murcia. 

Sitting here in Cafe Haskell there is steaming cup of emotions swirling in front of me, more intense than the nearly pitch black espresso and water resting next to my computer. I feel completely thankful to have had the opportunity to see Lonnie, Mia, Malin, Cille, Niles, and Severin. Encounters like these really make me believe that life is a gift and I feel grateful to have an experience like this. This was special and I know that the next time we all meet again will be memorable as well. 

The time for reminiscing on the previous week will have to be short lived because once I finish my coffee a lot of packing will have to take place. With only a handful of hours remaining in Spain I still haven't done laundry nor have I packed my bag.

To be honest I'm not sure how it feels to be leaving Murcia. I'm ready to see family and friends from home again, ready to eat Mexican food, ready to watch baseball games and ready to hopefully get a job for the summer. I'm ready to be a more present son and better friend to the people I grew up with again. However despite all the "readiness" there is a great deal of sadness. This small, almost completely overlooked Spanish city is now a home rather than travel destination and to walk away leaves a sour taste in my mouth, possibly influenced by the sugarless coffee now in my hand.

Thanks to reunions of last week I know deep down that the friendships made here in Spain will not be forgotten. We will see each other again, get tapas in a plaza somewhere, and share more memories somewhere in life. 

There is one sip left in my drink, the equivalent of few more moments of candlelight here in Murcia before this life chapter becomes darkened by period marks and departing flights. 

Take good care of yourself Murcia, thank you for accepting me, for sharing your culture, and for all of the wonderful memories. I love you.

Blowing out the candle I can hear winds coming up from the Sahara as they flow nothing but fiery invisible waves through the city streets.  

The brightness of the sun blinds me for a quick moment as I send a silent step outside the cafe. The winds are calling. 

They say it's time to go home. 

Counting Days like Turtles

It's only eight o'clock in the morning and already the piercing white orb of Murcian sunrise is sending a slight sting along the side of my face.

I find myself sitting in a cruising ALSA bus as it escapes the cities' urban horizon and destined towards the airport in nearby Alicante. As of a few days ago my Student Visa for Spain expired and now I am officially a Tourist looking out the window of this progressing form of transport. Teaching contract officially completed I am celebrating by leaving the country for a short while. 

Today marks the beginning of what will be a six to seven day trip in Northern Europe in order to visit friends in Denmark and Sweden. Within the span of about six hours I will be seeing Lonnie and Mia, two girls who live in Aarhus, Denmark. We haven't seen one another since the spring of 2013 so this reunion is coming with much anticipation. After seeing them I plan on hopping a second plane to Stockholm Sweden in order to see Malin, a close friend who I haven't seen in five years. After Stockholm there will be a return to Denmark wiith at least two days spent in Copenhagen doing some wandering with Cecillia, a girl who I haven't also seen in five years.

The timing of this trip couldn't be better. With only two weeks left before flying home to the United States it is essential to see these really great people before the time zones between us grow larger. It's also nice to get out of Murcia because currently the vast majority of American English teachers (Auxiliares de Conversacion) have already left the city. Saying farewell to close friends such as Susana, Tom, Alvin, and Cynthia, mixed with giving final presentations at both primary schools where I was contracted makes the reality of change feel like the vacant seat to my left is occupied with an overly emotional invisible passenger.

Seeing the massive exodus of friends from Murcia brings back flashes of the pivotal first days after moving to Spain. I didn't know where I was going, what the next day was good to look like, or even how to ask for directions. This time around I know how to ask for directions but still have no idea where I'm going. In two weeks the world is going to change yet again and it's something that leaves me excited yet increasingly vague like the changing of wind patterns.

A few days ago Lucia, Lola, and myself went to Puerto de Lumbreras near Lorca to work alongside a volunteer project that was gathering to count Tortugas Moras (a kind of land based turtle). Despite finding very few turtles we had a fun time, met some really nice people, and got free paella. This might have been the last trip the three of us will do together for a while because it's hard to say if Lucia will be in Madrid or Murcia when I get back from Denmark. 

This bus is punctual and I can see signs indicating that Alicante is fairly close. Despite the echoes of goodbyes still vibrating within my consciousness the desire to say "hello" again is rapidly elevating in priority. I feel absolutely blessed to have the opportunity to see Lonnie, Mia, Malin, and Cecillia again after such a long gap of living. The last time we all saw one another could have been the final moments of our friendship but we kept in touch and now here we are :) This trip is inspiration to keep in contact with the amazing people who I met in Murcia because if we want to see one another agiain, it surely will happen. 

The number of turtles we found near Lorca matches how much time is left before starting a new chapter in life, not a lot. The only thing I can do is be present in the moment and more importantly be thankful. 

Peace, love, and hold the biscuits. I'll eat them later. 

Daniel Anetac (Catena)

Spanish for Farewell

Today is Thursday and the feint echo of conversation between my housemate Lola and her friend can be heard from our house's patio as I relax in our living room. Melodic Murcian Spanish mixed with the soft passing of the occasional unseen car are making the afternoon pass with much desired calmness.

Life in Murcia has maintained this rhythm for quite some time now. Relaxed. The weather forecast each day has been hot with  zero chance of chilliness for what seems like a few consecutive weeks. The lingering swoosh of a nearby tranvia (tram line) gives the false hope of possible breeze as I take in a quick view of a cloudless blue sky.

Sitting here, taking in the afternoon hours of the day, there exists a creeping internal storm that is due to hit the shores of my attention in exactly one week:

The completion of my English Language Assistant Contract. 

The realization of this unavoidable event has been something that I have been trying to ignore since returning home for a few weeks in early April. Despite numerous attempts in trying to swat away it's untimely arrival it can still be heard like the chirping of birds hidden within nearby ficus trees.

June 5th is the official last day of my teaching contract but half the classes in one school will be leaving for a field trip to Asturias on Monday, meaning that goodbyes with a lot of kids had take place this week. Saying farewell to close to seventy children, most of whom I will probably never see again, might have been one of the difficult moments of my life. After hugs mixed with the shaking of hands, I closed the door to classrooms being sadly aware that I would never open them ever again.  

In one week the high fives, the calling of volunteers, the writing on chalkboards, and the constant horsing around will stop. Deep down I want to make sure that each student lives a good life, stays in school, and becomes the best person they can possibly be but I know that my role in their world was only meant to go this far. Somewhere within the warmth of Murcian air the melody of beautifully sounding music has just been given its warning to stop due to noise complaints.

It's hard to physically put into words how it has felt to be a part of both Vicente Medina and Nuestra Señora de los Angelés but two descriptions that keep finding their way back into the forefront of my mind are challengingly incredible and incredibly challenging.

With no prior experience at managing or even talking to children in a classroom setting, nine months of working as a teacher in Murcia started very difficultly. However one month guided into another and a bond between myself and the students began to take foundation. Physically witnessing children learning makes me truly grateful for the professors that I once had in school and there exists inspiration to keep working with kids in the future.

Deep down I know that there are people, a great number of people as a matter of fact, who could have done a better job and who would have been more qualified to teach the children English than myself. At the same time I feel humbled, honored, and nothing short of proud to have had the opportunity to try my absolute best. Walking away I feel safe knowing that everyone, the students and myself included, has learned something from this experience.

Ascen, Rosa, Sarafina, David, and Señora Carmen all deserve great amounts of credit for showing me how to be an effective teacher and also for trusting me to serve as their assistant.

Despite June 5th being the final day of work, my last day in Spain won't be until Wednesday, June 24th. The remaining few weeks will be shared with Lola and Lucia, my two housemates and close friends, plus a week long trip outside of the country. On June 10th I will fly to Aarhus, Denmark to visit Lonnie and Mia, two really good friends who were met a few years ago in prior travels. From there a second plane will send me to Sweden to visit Malin, a close friend who I haven't seen in five years, then come back to Denmark to visit Cille, another friend who hasn't been seen for five years as well. These are all people that are very important to visit, especially if a return to Spain doesn't happen next school year.

A second stint in Murcia is very possible because I have been awarded a placement for next year at an still unknown school, however a final decision about whether to come back won't take place until later in the summer.

This post, like the past nine months of living in Murcia, is about to reach it's timely expiration. I may never buy colored dice, foamy bouncing balls, or Despicable Me stickers ever again but where there once was room in my backpack to store such items, there now sits nine months worth of wonderful memories.

Its now time to soak up some Murcian sun before it dips downward and out of site...

...towards Home.

Thank you for taking time out your day to read this blog, you are a very beautiful person.

Take care & stay in school :)

Daniel Anetac (Catena)

On Being a Nomad

Note: Started roughly two weeks ago. Finished somewhere around three minutes ago. 


The conversation lasted probably about two minutes. Like most interactions between people who haven't seen one another for quite some time the order of salutations went like this:

We walked towards one another. We gave a hug mixed with a pat on the back, then proceeded with general questions like,"What's new with you?" or "How is your family doing?"

The person greeting me was the father of one of my best friends and it had been more than half a year since seeing him, not since before leaving to teach English in Spain. I was visiting him and looking to see the rest of his family because during this brief moment in time I had returned home for a few weeks to see friends and my parents.

"How is Spain?" 

"It's going really well so far."

Had I been meeting some interesting people? Yes. Was he, along with my best friend, and the rest of their family doing well. Thankfully yes as well. Were we both happy to see one another? Most definitely.

"What are you going to do when you come back?"

"Well...I guess I haven't thought about that part yet." 

Maybe the mood shifted or it was a token of imagination.

With a silently serious look on his face, "I'm glad your getting this out of your system." I didn't quite register everything. "You know, so you can eventually get a real job, and start making some real money. Eventually you have to start being responsible." 

As I stood in front of my friend's father I didn't really know how to respond. Due to my lack of proper words he continued about how my best friend was moving up in his job and my friend's sister was working towards a promotion in the company she worked for. The person who was looking at me had also worked really hard in his life and now had a nice house, been running a successful business for many years, and had a beautiful family.

As we made conversation I took mental note that most of the money I had to my name had been spent on flying home and the current pair of dusty walking shoes I had on also doubled as those used for running. Trying to focus my attention on anything other than my lack of self accomplishment it became increasingly heavy standing next to this man without feeling like I wasn't doing anything useful with my life.

Should I be out in the working world trying to make lots of money? Was this current life choice of exploring different places, meeting odd cultures, and trying to learn about other people's way of life something that was simply in my system? Is teaching English not a responsible thing?

Looking blankly at this man whom I hold a great deal of respect, the only real answer that made sense is to agree with him.

"Yeah, your probably right. It's something I'm probably going to look into pretty soon."

I was hoping to catch my close friend at home but it looks like he was away and the only thing caught was a piece of unexpected self-deprivation. Shaking hands with his dad we parted ways. Him shutting the front door of his house and me taking stride down the street back to where my parents' home was located.

As I found myself strolling downwards around a gradually winding street, many questions started knocking at the door of my consciousness.

Should I start making some real money? Do I want to work towards buying a house, saving towards retirement, planning for a family?Do I need to start being successful?

The sun had been shining and somewhere a bird or two was probably chirping. Due to the gradual decline of the street's asphalt passageway I was forced to keep my attention focused on its cement foundation in order to not suddenly trip forward.

My eyes were looking downward in order to keep me upright. The path began to flatten towards normalcy. Despite the change in terrain a gaze continued it's focus along the black tar that smoothly tucked itself below each step because inside there existed a feeling that I had already fallen.

The street was now fully flat. Taking a quick breath to scan the immediate surroundings of the tree covered neighborhood I felt like the dumbest person on the block. Nice houses. Nicer looking cars. People who were making money.

Living day to day. Moment for moment. Experience for experience. All of a sudden this personal manifesto that I had invisibly tattooed along my heart years ago seemed like a waste of time and energy.

Should I start looking for a REAL job? Was a nice house like these on both sides of me something I should be working towards?

Looking down I saw that one of the shoelaces of the increasingly warn out pair of sneakers was close to needing a retie. The seams along the sides were starting to tear. It was getting to be almost that time to regretfully pay for a new pair of wandering foot companions.

Before continuing along the solidly molded passageway towards home I remembered why they got so dirty; because I decided to make them that way. I wanted to take them to Morocco to share some cus cus. They were itching to go hiking near Cartagena, Spain. We went half ways on a day trip through Toledo. They wanted to feel on their souls the beauty of the Love Lock bridge in Paris. They wanted to go to sleep in one hemisphere then wake up groggily in a new one. They wanted to get lost and find a way to communicate in a foreign language for help. They wanted to make friends in places that used to be just dots on a map.

I looked up. It was time to keep going. The shoes on my feet didn't look dirty enough.

Maybe I'll get a real job one day. Maybe one of the nice houses passing me on both sides will become mine eventually.

Or possibly I'm going to move to South America or find a gig somewhere in Asia, live off of very little money, and love every second of it.

Walking down the street towards my parent's house I could literally feel the very little loose change I had in my pocket hopping about.

Taking one last look up the hill towards my friend's families' house, I knew I was the smartest person on the block.