In case you were wondering… – Portals Nous, Spain and Canary Islands

This morning I went to the Sweet Fair with Romy and her friend Antonia. We picked up a lost puppy that was in the middle of the road and spent the next hour looking for a police or someone who would take him. Finally, we parked and made our way to the very busy fair which was full of stalls of pastries, meats, cheese, handmade clothes, jewelry, and even a bonsai tree exhibition. There was a street lined with hot cars proudly booming their stereo systems. I made a comment that there was where all the “chicos” would be noticing a few cuties huddled around the open hood of the fire engine red car.

We battled the crowd for as long as we could then made out way out and back to the car. I was feeling a little low today and I ended up just coming back to the house and crashing in the hammock. And I mean, I really crashed taking a 4 hour nap. I have a lot of stuff going on in my head right now. I was half in dreams and half thinking and I don`t know what that place is called. But it`s ok I suppose except for I feel a little suspended in time.

I suppose coming to Spain for me was like a last test that I am over the whole Argentina fiasco. I know you don`t want to hear about this anymore but whatever. This is my blog. The whole thing was tremendously traumatic and made a huge dent in my life. When I was home for the summer mom said she thought something was probably not right because I never talked about it. I guess I just chalked it up to just another part of my trip. And to be honest, I didn`t really talk about my trip either. No one really asked.

The other day I was talking about my volunteer work in Africa and I got all choked up about it. That hasn`t really happened before (to that extent) so I guess it was a sign. I haven`t even finished writing and posting about my time at the orphanage in Nairobi. There is a rough outline stuff but I haven`t gone through it.

I don`t watch the news usually but they had it on here in the kitchen one day and I oversaw (like overhear) some of the problems with the poverty in Africa. I got really overwhelmed with emotion and my eyes welled up with tears which actually really surprised me. Why does it seem to affect me so much more when I see it on TV than when I was there? Is it because I am watching it from a first world environment with access to everything I need and more? Or is it that while I was there, I was in survival mode and almost numb to it?

So I guess being immersed in the Spanish culture has been a bit difficult as it reminds me of a very recent wound. I have moments when I am really happy and feel like that life (or shall I say near death) was a million years ago. The times that I really understand the language, only asking for clarification every 50 words rather than 10, I feel good. Proud that I am not language retarded after all. I know that I am in a better place and that in that, I have progressed. It doesn`t sting anymore when thoughts of Max (there are lots of look a likes here) pass through my head. I have actually talked to him since and we are “friends” now (from a distance of course). Determined not to let a negative experience turn me off an entire culture, I made many new memories of my own with all things Spanish.

But every now and then, there is a cloud that passes overhead and darkens the space around me. I know its not about `him` or any of the many boys I have kissed. It`s about my belief in love. It is about what I think it means and how it should feel. It`s about how important it is (as the air we breathe) and yet how elusive (as a butterfly in a rainstorm) it can be. It is how people can use and misuse it and how so many don`t respect it. It is about why I see so many good people with good hearts…alone.

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