hello again

Being in Spain for the month of August has been like finding a good spot on the beach on the hottest day of the summer. When you know the beach is going to be packed you can do one of two things: stay home and forget about the beach all together, or get up bright and early like a good rubberneck does, bring shovels and books, playing cards, a ball and racket, bocci, board games, a guitar, maybe a mouth harp, a stereo if you're not musically inclined, extra sunscreen, an unbroken umbrella if you're lucky, and one of those fold-up reclining chairs that has a cup holder for your beverage. In the case that you find yourself accompanied by all of those outlandish pleasantries at once, you'll first have to bring a sizable cooler filled with a substantial amount of ice to last the whole day and fill it with beer and tinto de verano. At that point, you can hang up your pirate flag, and plan on baking in the sun and goobing around until the tide washes you away or your eyeballs roll back into your head and you're dying of heat exhaustion. From that vantage point, I'm pretty certain that you're living something like a modern day Helios would- as long as you don't plan on setting fire to the Earth. Or, you're probably less like a supernatural sun god than a sun worshipper. Well, even in the case that you run out of cold drinks, you might as well have supernatural powers because that coca-cola-fanta-cerveza-goat's milk guy will come skipping along the beach soon enough to replenish your desires. Everything is within reach and you have everything you need, even though it may not seem like much. At 2 o'clock you're probably sweating heaps of sand and salt and could use a nap or a sandwich or something, but you stick it out. Even in the heat of it all, you have the best spot on the whole damn beach, so there's nothing that's going to get you to leave. That's it, through the heat of mid day, and the rip tide, and those annoying children and old people that throw sand or scream at each other. In any event, big or small, you deal with the heat and the headaches because you know you're in the right place, and you don't complain because there's nothing to really complain about, and you live on nothing because nothing is everything, and you entertain yourself on simplicity and laughter and easiness because that's really what's important. So, it's been kind of like that, except for I never woke up early to go to the beach, or had anything more than a towel and maybe some water; but it felt like luxury because the sun was out and good people were around.

So, we just left Cádiz where we spend almost a month getting to know the people that we worked together with in the hostel and then the guests that flew out before you even got a chance to remember their names and where they were from. The latter usually came first, recognizable by sufficient inbreeding of white Europeans, and I would be the asshole who would call out for people according to their respective country. In any case, before anything else they were people, people of all shapes and sizes, they were travelers, musicians, artists, clowns, statues, students, weirdos, goobers, learners, teachers, bums, lovers, alcoholics, orphans, hippies, stoners, writers, legends, bourgeois, gypsies capitalists and anarchists, bosses and workers, they were dancers and cooks, they were bored and excited all at the same time. And following that they were products of the places they came from: they were italians, germans, russians, polish, swedish, israelis, irish, english, australians, spanish, french, canadians, dutch, portuguese, mexicans, chileans, peruvians, argentinians, north carolinians, alaskans... each one their own twisted individual with some soul stricken story to tell. Sometimes they had been gone so long that you could wipe the nation off their face, and not even they knew how to identify themselves. A name will do. Some were quiet and spent time writing and reading on the terrace, others were more talkative and bought beers all around to make friends and ignite conversation. Some played guitar and when they played it would be humble where no one could hear them, while others played loud in the kitchen for people to dance and sing to. Some guests had a tinge in their eye that read they had been traveling for years and years of their life and nothing was the same. It said, "I am a guest here and in my own home. My home is nowhere and that is where I am going." It was hard getting to know those people because just like their home, you were impermanent.

We got to know a friendly few at the hostel who we spent most of our time with. Everyone had their own planless plan and it was nice for once not to be asked what I'm going to do after college. People barely thought to ask you what you were going to do after this. Because this is it. And if you're not a serial traveler, most people plan to stay until they decide to move on. It has made me feel more comfortable about not really knowing, even though things are vaguely planned out. Because even if you do plan, you’ve got to know there's no guarantee. For instance, finding a place in Istanbul has been a combination of friendly people and less friendly people who lie and assimilate (raise) prices for Americans and don’t trust the Spanish to rent a flat because they simply can't be trusted. Then there’s the whole being female thing, which we will see the consequences of soon enough. Despite it all, we’re on our way to eliminating such inequalities as race, class, and gender so that we can have a place to sleep in Turkey.

Accordingly, I have dropped all my expectations of anything happening or not happening just so I can enjoy the ride. I met some really beautiful people in Cadiz from all parts of the world, and when we left we all smiled and said we'd see each other soon. I said it because I believe it, but others may not have. Why put my name in your book? What for? Don't cry, don't be sad. This is life. It is all fleeting. And they were older and wiser and they knew what they were saying. And they were probably right. But I'm still young and vivacious and I'll eat all the positivity that I want so I don't stomp on my own heart all at once. Cadiz is a beautiful place, which I've been in love with for quite some time. This time, we had our own apartment with a pretty magnificent view of a giant fuck-off church. We were also set across an apartment for old folks, a humbling view of walkers and televisions behind curtains too loud for anyone not to go deaf (unless you already are). Well, odd as it seems, it really made a quite peaceful atmosphere for a good night's sleep, or portion of the night if you include time for dancing with mosquitos and bed bugs.

Here's the view from our flat...

Well, since things are cooling off in Spain, I can finally leave my squishy spot on the beach and head for Eurasia or more specifically Byzantium or Constantinople or Istanbul or whatever you fancy. I choose to call it whichever because at this point it's just another spot on the map that I've never seen before. Until next time... signing off with a quote from Jack and some photos from Cadiz.

"What is the feeling when you're driving away from people, and they recede on the plain until you see their specks dispersing? It's the too huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lea forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies." -JK

Love & miss you all,

Jen

Sunset on the beach, still warm enough to swim

Lots of curls (cristy is somewhere in there)

Cristy taking a siesta on the terrace
us outside casa caracol