The Scavenger Hunt

I am all packed, so I suppose there is some finality in that, eh? Or at least enough for me to take the time to reasses and see where my head and heart are as of now with eyes cast backwards.


Well, I came here with quite possibly the most romanticized image of Europe/Spain ever. Which is wonderful. I often find and found myself lugging a skillfully packed suitcase, confidently eyeing over a map unafraid reflecting on the image of me in September, shaking I was so nervous, praying more fervently than I ever had, constantly checking for my wallet and barely holding the reins on my nerves. I think about the wide-eyed, untraveled excitement that flew out the train window and brought tears to my eyes riding through Southern France and how I touristed and was enchanted by Paris (love at first sight). I will never have her back.


I know that through this trip, I have gained so much. I am much more confident and competent. God and I communicate and I trust in what He says. I am beginning a life-time journey of exploring the parts of the world, of individuals, of culture that are so small, and so intricate, and attempting to understand what makes all it click together perfectly. I realise much more of who I am, what I want and where I come from, but have more drive and fire than ever to pursue my individual path inextricably woven with the lives and world's of others. I am on a search for home in a million places and am un-daunted by the thought of traversing the globe with a passport and youth to find it everywhere in little ways and construct or discover the secrets of my own soul.


I keep finding parts of myself in these places, I know, ridiculous - she spends a few days in Paris/Amsterdam and she is enlightened. But hear me out...


I did not like Barcelona as a whole. I love a lot about the city and have been beyond blessed to be here, but the city itself never got comfortable for me, it was always a bit on the itchy side and in many ways I felt out of place. Especially in my dorm, none of these faces became friends here. Outside of my relationship with Laura, Najeda and a few others, I kept my ties to Barcelona pretty minimal.


The scenery, yes I was moved by art and archictecture, but honestly, I never felt the warmth from people or a connection to them which I believe is absolutely central to loving a place past the first few honeymoon weeks of glee with the new. I never got over feeling shaky and helpless every time I saw a beggar. I never could get into the late night life and the proper eating times. Barcelona stayed on the surface of my skin.


But. Without a shadow of a doubt, my confidence was here. My independence. The fuel to my fire for what sort of life I want to lead. Never did I imagine that I would fall so in love with travel. That I would meet people from 10 different countries and sleep in their beds and eat their foods and share their lives.


Never ever ever did I imagine that I would spend ANOTHER semester abroad, that I would write a million letters and e-mails to make it possible. That I would be planning to travel to East Africa this summer. That the thought wouldn't daunt me to the point of meekness. My confidence, my globality was waiting here in Barcelona for me to come and pick it up. No where to be seen is the meek little girl who was terrified to walk to a store by herself, anxiously looking for Kapy and lost without a mobile phone. I am not the woman who came here. Fact.


I like to think of things like this. I like the thought that I am on a life long scavengar hunt to uncover aspects of my soul and to serve God. I like that I realise more about Love, that I was able to see His spirit embodied in so many ways I never would have predicted or imagined. I like that I want things I never thought I would and understand things that I never even considered before.



I like that I had time to rest (truly, completely, physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally), that I saw beauty like I never imagined. I like that I learned to budget (I have an entirely new view on money and necessity and waste) and learned a lot more empathy. I like that I learned to appreciate little things and quiet space and let go (even more) of my emphasis on the unimportant (grade point average?)



I like that I saw new sides of people I loved. That I lost some of my closest bonds and was emotionally ravaged by it. I like that I had the chance to breathe Barcelona's air with The One I Love Most in the World and give him context for the stories I will tell and hopefully add another beautiful, perfect memory to our growing collection for years to come. I like that I spent more time speaking to myself and to Him than any individual. I like that.


So in the end, my eyes have been opened. And I have successfully retrieved an aspect of myself from Barcelona and I will keep going, keep searching and keep exploring (hopefully) until I die. The possibilities are endless. I do not want this trip to be something I file like a scrapbook as the memories and pictures become dimmer and dimmer. I want it to be the beginning of a sentece that will never be ...


Thanks for Tuning In.

With Love,


Jza

I am In-Between.

Currently I am inbetween, in this partly cloudy state of mind. Rays of sunshine though. I'm also inbetweensies even further because right now I am recovering from a weekend of breath and relaxation with the One I Love Most in the World, and as all things have an equal and opposite reaction -- I have quite a bit of work to catch up on. Essays. Life. Whatnot. Blargh.

But you're not interested in that are you? Wouldn't you much prefer to hear from the moment he stepped of the plane and my stomach was in nervous little knots of joy. And I spotted him across the room and almost, slightly didn't recognize him with the mess of blonde hair he now has that is quite long. And I ran over, and my heart leapt and I kissed him all over his exhausted face?



And then, he got very sick for the first night, and was a little bundle of fever but a trooper none the less. We got to spend so much time talking, and holding and kissing and it felt like wholeness.

Then, we did some exploring and eating and more cuddling that I won't make you suffer through. Suffice to say having my heart back is a beautiful thing. And the lovely lights throughout the city danced inside my head and soul promising me that forever would come and go and I would never forget being with the man of my dreams at 20 and in love.

Thanksgiving was a fiasco! Let me tell you about it. If you know JT you know he doesn't own many dress clothes, but I convinced him to bring some because Kapy's mom actually got a letter of recommendation in order for us to have a gorgeous dinner at the Yale Club here in Barcelona. So JT brings his version of dress clothes (no tie, shortsleeved dress shirt under a floppy brown blazer and some tan curdorys and vans) They didn't let him in. So there we are, in the poshest place in Barcelona (which is deserted but huge and Versaille like with tapestries and thick carpets and huge paintings and jeesh -- the nicest place I've ever eaten by far.)

So in a slightly flustered state, after the woman in true Catalan fashion, coldly lays down the rule in a cruel tone, we don't know what to do. To the rescue, Max (Kapy's s-dad) pulls out a wad of cash like a superhero and despite our protest, insists that we go and buy some shoes for my 6'2" 12 year old.

So we run outside, and I'm near tears, and it starts to rain. When we finally make it to the only open place in Barcelona at that hour for shoes in the swankest area: Corte Ingles (ew.) In we go -- and run up 2 of the million escalators in the labryinth of a department hellhole. More unhelpfulness from the staff and when we do find shoes -- they are all designer and way beyond the price range. So we finally find the cheapest pair and they eye JT's size 13.5 with a kinda scoff -- no one is that big in Spain I'm convinved -- and they convert it to something ridiculous like 50 in European sizes and all the while Just Tranquil JT is softly rubbing my back and telling me not to worry.

The man comes back and we slip into the shoes and run out the door as the place is closing.

We take a taxi back and walk in the door where we are shown upstairs to the bar/smoking room where the group is waiting (Max, Pam, Kapy and Stewart). They were all absolute brilliantly kind and patient throughout, Max and Stew even banded together saying they would take their pants off if JT wasn't allowed in. For the sake of the Catalan stuck-ups own good manners and decency, I'm glad they let my boy in.

Max was even sweet enough to lend JT a tie Kapy's mom insisted (intelligently) on bringing. We had a delicious dinner, here's the kicker, with ONE other family. The place was pretty much just us, which made them being difficult even more irritating, despite the fact that I know they have to maintain standards of decency and selectiveness and all of that.

We ended up eating so so so so well and after a few delicous bottles of red wine, a dancing turkey was pulled out of Pam's wonderful purse of dreams and it began to dance and sing on the center of the table much to the chagrin of the staff.

We also were each given chocolate turkeys and Kapy and I got matching necklaces. We went up to the gorgeous bar to smoke hang out more and it was just a delectable experience altogether.

It really was great.

It's so weird because I am in this weird inbetweeny point. I absolutely loved the experience of JT here and I am ready to come home and trying to organize New Zealand all at the same time.

It's life, man.

It's so so so big.
And so so so much less complicated and more complicate and intricate and easy as breathing.

Going to Quatre Gats with JT and seeing the look in his eye.
Holding him close and hearing his heart.
Laughing out loud at dinner.
Great conversation.
Doggy bag of paella.
Making dinner.
JT's body hot as a furnace with fever.
Crying and sending him off to the plane.
Praying for all things good and all things wonderful and all things bright and beautiful.