There was something in the air...

So tomorrow, I turn 31, and quite possibly, it's the first time in my life, that I haven't cared about a birthday.  Having said that, tonight when I was walking home, there was an energy in the air.  You could hear faint cries of protests in the distance, the air was a pleasant but kinda bone chilling one and the hundreds of people walking home after getting kicked off buses which cut service for whatever reason, provided me with a smile and a warmth of being in Barcelona on this birthday.

Today, was one of intensity, coaching my Varsity girls volleyball team but I was proud of them.  They perservered and showed me what they were made of.  They have big hearts and an incredible ability to work together even though they haven't had tons of opportunities with the small group they have become in the last 3 weeks.

There was that energy and the ones from the Jordanian coaches, making me miss the Middle East, casually smoking cigarettes during the lunch break.  I loved that they didn't care, that they were naturally raw people just tending to their habits.  It's something you don't see all the time and it was refreshing and calming.

So, tonight, with something in the air, I will toast my team, my 31st year, this incredible Spanish city and hope that our energy remains fierce for tomorrow and Saturday with a local Spanish red...

Me gusta mi vida ahora...

Being "Somewhere" in Barcelona...

So, as I was walking around tonight and enjoying my reflective Sunday evenings, I realized just how much I love this city.  I go out my door to crisp Autumn sweater weather and smile.  The old lamps lining the darkish cement newly cleaned streets.  The cafe culture still continuing on into fall.  It's such a romantic city.  Last night, I was walking around with a new friend, we'll just call him that for now, Andres, and it was magical.  Of course, the company was great, but running into a spontaneous flamenco performance in an alley while the shopowners served the gathering crowd small cups of vino.  And onwards we walked, and then there was a South American drum circle in Plaza La Merce, followed by a band reminiscent of preludes to Pink Floyd sounds.

Today, I went to meet my friend Analise and we chatted in English and Spanish, and then hit the cloudy beach for an afternoon game of volleyball and tonight, I cooked vegetarian pasta and am having a couple glasses of one of my favorite local reds before the evening ends.

A friend of mine visited last week and it was a treat to have company and be reminded on how magnificent it is where you dwell and well there is always something, the energy and the beauty of this city, weather, people, food, etc. makes everything and something more bearable.

I watched Sofia Coppola's new film "Somewhere" last night and at times, it was slow and painful, but the meaning was there, readily available and hanging out on the surface for anyone who has been bored, for anyone who feels like they could be anywhere and are trying to get to somewhere.

And for me, Barcelona, has become a somewhere in my life, where I want to live, shine, create and participate.  And, I feel like I am giving it my best go, hour commute to work and all, I am getting around.

And being here, and being able to somewhat (because let's face it, really somewhat is realistic) manage all my activities, and work, and still being able to spend some time with me, imperative in this in-between broken heart, moving to another country, stage, I feel well and full of hope and not too worried.  And that's all one can ask for, is some sort of balance.  Of course, there's dancing pantless homeless men who you try to feed, and ATM cards that get demagnetized seconds after you possess them, and of course, the weekly public transportation mishappening, but all of it comes out funnier and like a breath of fresh air.  I am sure it goes back to my tangent about how life is real and not easy here and there is something simply beautiful in that.

So, meanwhile, while I am here somewhere, trying to make sure that I don't float away to just anywhere, I hope to have more visitors, more adventures, more opportunities for love, peace, art, understanding and misunderstanding..

Buenas noches amigos..

Paradise is Lost

Just your average holiday, white pearly beaches, aqua sapphire colored waters, a beach hut straight from the Swiss Family Robinson movie, fresh fish, cheap beer, dances on balconies and love in the sand with  your sexy Venezuelan lover, really?

Yes, the last days of my life went something like that and yesterday as I spent one of my longest days traveling in awhile, I realized that Paradise is often lost.  We really never sit back and soak it all in.  And the craziest thing is that when you are there moments pass effortlessly and with a beer in one hand, wearing a permanent smile you don't realize what you have had and the beauty of it, until you have to spend 6 hours in Miami airport on the way back to Oklahoma.

The last 8 days of my life, with a new beach every day, warm waters, glowing skin, beers at 3 o'clock, looking into wide, brown eyes of a very passionate Socialist, with the heart of a golden retriever and the dance moves of a young MJ.  I couldn't help but tear up as I got through US customs down in Aruba and feel like I had lost Paradise.

Of course I am moving to Barcelona in 4 days, of course, my life hasn't ended, but if it were to right now or tomorrow, I can honestly say for the first time possibly ever, that I would die happily, knowing that love surrounded me from different corners of the world over the last 30 years.  And still, at times, we fought and other times, we sorted through our likenesses and differences over chats on Marx, family heartaches, comparisons to our friends, our families, ourselves and all in Spanglish or English or Spanish, or whatever special language we spoke.

But maybe, maybe this is just the start, maybe it is something completely different then we think.  Maybe this little thing called life, obstacles, nothing, whatever it is and it's constant change and heartache and emotional heartline dashing up and down like the US stock market, maybe it's an indicator.  An indicator that if you still keep going, then it should only get better, in one way or another, and that you must be open to those impossibilities that lie in the shadows.

Maybe, just maybe, Paradise is found because it was lost...  

Writing blues

We all get them, the block, the inability to write, the overflowing of stories told aloud and yet, this withdrawal from doing anything useful with your computer.

It's summer, it's excusable. But, is it really? I mean, me and my current life of yoga, 5-10 km runs, eating amazingly good locally grown food, taking Spanish classes, using overpriced skin products, going on overdue doctor's visits and finally, sleeping; all in all, I have absolutely no reason whatsoever to legitimize my slacking.

There's the overthinking of what I should write about.  I have this strength, particularly wondrous ability to write amazingly strong forewords to stories untold.  Perhaps, it's because the stories are all in my head, or perhaps, it's because I am afraid of letting them erupt onto the paper.  They're lingering mystery tied up in knots in a creative foreword is a safe place for those stories and so, I leave them.

There's the voice in me, that's thinking "that doesn't sound right" or "that's not how it was" or "how on earth do I use words to describe that moment, that joy, that ecstasy, that love?"  There's always that voice.  It sits there next to you creeping up your skin, saying, "You're spending too much money."  "You're not working hard enough on yourself."  "What are you doing with the boy in Venezuela? What is he doing right now?"  It's always there haunting you like your exboyfriends in the start of a new relationship.  But the voice never leaves, it just lurks around and sometimes hides behind the curtain when we can be strong and ignore it and really say inwardly, 'let it go, forget about it, live..'

So my writing blues are just those things: overthinking, voices, lack of dedication,  procrastination, call it what you will, but here I am writing, totally capable of making it all possible, it all a reality, it all beautiful and it all heard.

Sending all my love to the universe and trying not to worry about loved ones around the world.
Xo

Life and Its Curveballs

How life sometimes snuggles up to us and how other times it gives us the cold shoulder.  It can be both a hot lover and a deceptive enemy to us.  This year as of May has revealed that in more than one way.

After all is said and done, I will move to Barcelona, Spain this August.  A place that has been deeply imbedded in my heart since I studied there 2 summers ago.  It wasn't that it was particularly easy, but the mixture of manchego, tapas, markets, language, spirited and yet serious folk, made it seem a desirable location; a place I could inevitably get lost in.  One can walk through the mosaic filled Park Guell or float on top of La Pedrera.  One can feel their feet aching to stomp along with the flamenco dancers.  The magic of the beach, the mountains, the old and the new, hillsides and cobblestone streets.  For some reason, it just felt right.  And I am hoping that the arrows are also pointing in a positive direction, with Gianpaolo at my side, and old friends providing new contacts and other friends preplanning visits.

And yet, tonight, I was also accepted to one of the best programs in the US for my Masters in Arts in International Education Development.  And on one hand, I want it badly and the other hand, the possibility of it happening, means that it could happen again at any point.

And so it is, life and its curveballs every other second they are floating at one pace or another straight at you, like the slight magic of the Chavista, a spoon full of sugar on a cloudy day.  And the opportunity to run my first marathon in a city I love surrounded by people I love..

Let things go and anything is possible...

Beating around Brazil

Brazil, before arriving I thought of Bebel and Astrud Gilberto, beautiful oiled beach bodies, beef skewers of the churrasceria sort and caipirinhas, it was that, but not much more. 

Brazil is a country of old and new with like characteristics of an 80s New York city.  It's diverse, not one Brazilian looks alike, in fact, it was often easy to get lumped into a Brazilian when in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paolo.  It's buildings range from colorful, colonistic houses to steel skyscrapers and the occasional fancy new apartment building.  Even the language, Portuguese, sounds like an eclectic mix of Spanish, Italian, French and perhaps, Russian mixed together in a blend that comes out beautifully but is extremely challenging to understand.  I spoke Spanish to try to get by but that only got me so far, and in reality, it made me realize how much we often don't listen to each other as human beings when we are trying to get our point across. 

Starting with Sao Paolo, Christa and I cruised around with a local middle-upper class engineer named Enrique.  Enrique represents the globalized Brazil in a nutshell.  He has worked in Egypt, Spain and now returned home to Sao Paolo.  He speaks Spanish, English and Portuguese fluently and he was a fan of good food, beautiful sights and surrounded himself with wonderful people.  We ate amazing pizza, drank ridiculously overpriced caipirinhas and cruised through the streets of Sao Paolo.  He took us through markets overflowing with local produce.  Then, through streets lined with pole dance performers and drunken dancing samba-ers. 

2 days later I was off to Salvador, the center of Afro-Brazilian culture with brick layed streets, amazing coconut, African/ Indian influenced shrimp dishes, music that made you think you could change the world by dancing and Cappoeira dancers that put Olympic gymnasts to shame.  Peleurinho was a charming city filled with smiling faces and fun hanging heavy in the air. 

Finally, I made it back down to Rio De Janeiro.  Renowned for it's beautiful beaches and mountains surrounding the city, it fused Capetown, Seoul and Barcelona, in it's character, beach culture and aching to be fun. 

Will I return to Brazil, perhaps, one day, but for now, I think there are different corners to investigate.  Brazil has the reputation of being one of those countries with it all: food, fun, culture, beauty and history.  It is a wonderful place but for me, it was no Morocco or Italy or India, but that could be the bias Asian in my heart. 

Abriggada..

The world is exploding all around me and I feel like I am standing still.

Just over a few weeks ago, Egypt stunned the world in its ability to come together via social media and protest, energize, reunite and bring down a leader that tormented so many of its country's citizens for years. Throughout the course of the 2-week span, I craved to be in the Middle East, as numerous Syrian, Lebanese and Egyptian friends posted facebook updates verbalizing their desire for freedom and cranked out political emails to their friends around the world, so people really understood what this fight was about.  It was all beautifully executed and for the first time, potentially ever, voices were infectious and stories and information exchanged so that multiple perspectives were assessed, evaluated, contemplated and examined.  As international bosses of internet workers, janitors and school teachers, received phone calls "I won't be at work today.  I am protesting!"  Brilliant! I feel like that we should all say that line like that to our bosses in our lives, to remind them and ourselves that we are living.

3 days ago, an earthquake 8.4 on the Richter scale rocked Japan, causing tidal waves to spread across the Pacific Ocean in many different directions. Meanwhile, I sat in a doctor's office for 2 hours as Spanish CNN covered the whole situation.  Japan has leant its hand to help out countries around the world for as long as I can remember, and yet, the country is so isolated and independently quirky.  It will be interesting to see whether the Japanese can bashfully take help from others when they have always been such a strong force internationally.

The question I ask myself and ask my readers, is where were you when this happened? And what was happening around you?  What were you doing to help or hurt the world?  Were you a part of history?

The more I live, the more I crave to be a part of the world's angst and passion, to be caught in these moments and reflect, help and dissect their meanings.  And yet, here I am in Caracas and big dilemmas consist of challenging the Cada managers, deliberating over what fruteria to go to and trying to challenge people to think of how this country could explode magically.  Perhaps, it comes across as threatening.  By no means is this my intention, and I am so immune to attacks on the US now, I probably do it subconsciously.  But, when it comes down to it, I like talking about what makes a country difficult or wonderful because if we don't then we will never be able to improve upon what we are.   I mean I guess it goes back to the discussion I have had with so many friends about is the Western influence necessary, but I think if you have started developing as a country, it's hard to revert back to not developing.  And for me Caracas, I am not sure what's happening here.  There's a lot of running races.  There's a lot of young people my age who are educated trying to leave the country.  There's an opposition party to Chavez found on little less than the fact that they don't like Chavez.. There's some cool markets, bubble wars and excessive amounts of big boobs.  There are some charming cabs sporting Virgin Mary stickers wallpapering the ceilings or Andy Warhol positive negative Jesus decals.  There's some mountains that circle the city lined with colorful brick houses stacked on top of each other that seem to create an invisible blanket of energy warming the city.  There are positives, there are negatives but for me it is so hard to live in a city that aches with potential and yet I am not really be able to fully articulate or exchange ideas with the locals at the level I desire to try and plant the seeds of transformative change.  I don't think it needs to be more western, I just want to the people to have the same energy as the city that surrounds them and I want to feel magic and not feel like I am standing still.

I remember being in Madrid and wandering down the streets and people walking up to Kristen and I yelling, cheering, dancing around us, it was like we were drowning in people's energy that surrounded us.  And here, you walk around at 9 o' clock at night and there's hardly anyone outside in particular parts of the city because it's rumored to be too dangerous...

Stand up, get out and live, damn it!