Ronda: Rejuvenation

Just a quick post for now -- I´m sure I´ll have more to say later -- but I left Granada this afternoon feeling dispirited. I´d been robbed, I was tired, I´d gone on a fruitless cave people search in the morning. Mostly, I really just wanted to go home.

Then, we boarded the train for Ronda, and I thought for sure I´d sleep the entire way. Instead, I gazed at the countryside and this strange feeling descended on me. It was a feeling of peace and certainty. Suddenly, I felt like myself -- more myself than I´d felt in a long time.

Lately, I´ve been trying to live this philosophy of ¨why¨(instead of ¨why not¨), mostly because ¨why not¨has gotten me nowhere ... in fact, led me to Hurt Feelings-ville. But as our train sped through the mountains and olive fields, I couldn´t help but think of a line from one of my favorite movies of all time:

Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias

See if you can guess where that´s from!

For now, adios ....

P.S. Pictures to come. Have no way of uploading them now.

Granada: The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

Let´s start with the bad: I was robbed.

In eight years of living in New York City, I´ve never been mugged or even close to it (knock on wood). Three days into our trip to Spain -- purse stolen.

It happened in a dark, empty street. We were stupid, naive, overly confident, dressed in short skirts. I was carrying a tiny purse in my right hand. It was a situation perfect for two teenage punks to attack us. Luckily, Jen managed to fight off her thief, but I´m out over a hundred euros, my driver´s license and my pride.

Lesson learned: This isn´t New York; we´re tourists and need to be extra careful. And even at home, I probably let my guard down too much. Vigilance.

But now, the good ... no, the great. This morning, we headed out to the Alhambra, where we spent several wonderful hours exploring the Moorish fort, palaces and gardens. I´ve been dreaming about this place for over half my life, and it was as close to heaven that you could possibly get to on Earth. The air in the neverending lush gardens was heavy with the perfume of lilacs and roses. It´s an intoxicating place. I could ramble through the Generalife all my life. And I hope to return there some day.

Tambien:
- We visited the cathedral this afternoon and wow ... what excess. The giant organs, the gold leaf statues, the immense domes, the vivid paintings all reminded me that this (religion) is what people kill each other over. The church didn´t produce awe or wonder, just disgust.
- I´m starting to think first in Spanish, but my vocabulary (spoken) still sucks. But I could read back my police report, no problem.
- Tomorrow evening ... off to Ronda.

Barcelona: Eat, Sleep, Eat Some More

You know that phrase "work hard, play hard"?

Well, in Barcelona, it's "play hard, play harder."

I knew the lifestyle and culture in Spain would be quite different, but it's amazing how anything gets done in this country. A typical day's schedule seems to be: work in the morning; eat lunch at 2PM and then take a siesta; go back to work until 8PM; dinner at 10; bars and clubs from midnight until you pass out around 5AM.

And the eating ... ! My mom would be happy that Spain might fatten me up. We're eating more meals, though just little bites at each one. And the pace is much slower; everyone takes their time, enjoying their tapas and pinxtos and vasos de vino. There's no rush to be anywhere or do anything.

Yesterday, Jen and I took the train down to the beach at Sitges and it felt wonderful to relax, close my eyes, float in the Mediterranean's clear water. And there, I did think: could I live here?

It's certainly tempting, but I know that this is just vacation. Here and now, I have no work, responsibilities, no bills to pay. This isn't real life. But perhaps I can take a little bit of Barcelona philosophy back with me to New York, and slow down just a little bit.

Vicky and Cristina Are Going to Barcelona

I'm heading to Spain in about seven hours, and even now, the idea of it hasn't sunk in.

As (many) people have pointed out, my traveling companion, Jen, and I bear a resemblance to the ladies in Woody Allen's movie 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona.' Me = Vicky. Jen = Cristina. And at this time tomorrow, we'll be strolling down Las Ramblas in Barcelona. Unreal. And if we meet Javier Bardem? He's mine!

I'll try to post a few missives over the 10-day trip, so ... hasta luego.

Come On Over

[photo via Patricia]

I threw my very first party in my own apartment, ever. And people actually showed up! Success!

Adding "host a party" to the 30 list was a bit of a cheat since I knew it was going to happen. But this was a somewhat major feat, as I've never lived anywhere big enough to hold more than, oh, four people (maybe). Anyway, it seemed like people had a good time, so I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.

22. Host a party

Indecisions, Indecisions

I told you I'd try to write more frequently. Hah! And you didn't believe me (though, with good reason).

Here I am, sitting on the patio, composing this missive, drinking a glass of white wine, listening to Patsy Cline and Liz Phair, watching the cloudy night sky for a glimpse of a shooting star. Simply sublime.

I was IMing with a friend of mine today, and it was particularly memorable because he doesn't IM. Seriously, he isn't on Facebook, he doesn't Twitter, he would never blog like this. Hell, we all feel special when he e-mails us back.

So, color me surprised when he pings me today, partly in response to a very long, detailed, angsty e-mail I'd written him. And the contents of the conversation were quite disturbing. It was ... uh ... eye-opening, to say the least. Here's the gist:

Friend: And how do you feel about that?
Me: I don't know.
Friend: You seem to say that a lot lately.
Me: Hmm.

Later ...

Friend: Why don't you do something about it?
Me: I guess ... that's just not the kind of thing I do. That's not who I am.
Friend: Why not?
Me: I don't know.
Friend: Is that your answer for everything?
Me: Um ... I guess so

And even later ...

Friend: So, do you really not know, like you have no clue whatsoever? Or, do you really not want to find out?
Me: I liked it better when you didn't use the interwebs.

I have been saying "I don't know" too often of late. And I wish it were because I genuinely didn't have a clue; I'd rather be stupid than scared.

But this reminds me of a quote from 'Deadwood' (of course), when Alma Garrett is about to marry a man she doesn't love: "I am afraid. I am so afraid that my life is living me and that it will soon be over and that not a moment of it will be my own."

Oh, David Milch, I can't say it any better than that: My life is living me.

I just need to remember my motto for the year: Man up. Or as Al Swearengen would say, "Stand it like a man -- and give some back."

Amen.

30.5

Long time no write.

It's been over six months since I started this blog, and I haven't kept up with it nearly as much as originally planned. And with Year 30 half over, I haven't even filled out The List, much less made much headway on it.

I will try to do better, dear readers (all five of you).

Since last I wrote, I moved to a spacious apartment in lovely Carroll Gardens. I bought a bike. I've consumed excellent Italian food. I've used my power drill. I'm hosting my first cookout this weekend.

And the change in scenery is wonderful and exciting ... Still, I find myself yearning for even greater change. Of course, the 30 List was a way to try new things and I haven't been able to accomplish that either, so maybe I shouldn't bite off more than I can chew. But I'm feeling restless and a bit aimless, and I'm not sure what to do with myself next.

As I ruminate on that great mystery, some updates on that 30 List:
19. Ride the Coney Island Cyclone

adding
22. Host a party
23. Go sailing/canoeing/kayaking/rafting
24. Watch five unseen movies from IMDB's Top 250