Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody...

Ok, I guess I'm really doing this.

An innocent question from my friend Paige, if I was up for a race, actually became a "Thing-to-do". Be careful what you ask your friends, they might actually take you up on it...

Sometimes I feel like doing things that other people would never expect from me. Maybe it's that restless nature I was talking about. I've also been known to be stubborn (thanks dad!). My first thought was: "Yeah, right", the second was: "Actually, why not?", my third thought became: "Oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into now?"

But I'm actually determined to do this. Running a marathon.

The more I say it, the more I get freaked out, because it's becoming more true. The reason why I'm scared is the mere fact that I've never ran in my life. It's not in my nature. Ever since I was a kid, I'd avoided running. Whether it be sports, games or just plain necessity.

Ofcourse, I want to keep the goal reasonable. Since attempting to run a marathon within 3 1/2 months is just unrealistic, I'm aiming for half a marathon in February 2010 (Sevilla) and the full one in November 2010 (NYC).
And I kind of getting used to this idea. Like I'm going to be a part of something big. It's exciting, it's scary and most of all, it's painfull.

As I said, I've never run before. After 2 days attempting to jog, all I feel are my sore upperlegs. I'm better at swimming, cycling, long-distance walking, that kind of stuff. Even basketball I'm good at, thanks to my height, but running?

Nevertheless, I really really want to do this, and I have lots of stuff to figure out. Like: are you supposed to keep going eventhough your legs aren't yours anymore? Do I take a 1 day break or is it better to continue? What is the best technique to track your milage or times? How to build up your endurance? So much to find out yet... And internet will be my best friend for this.. hip hip hooraaaay for advanced technologaaay.

But I'm terribly excited and the fact that Miguel will be training with me is a huge support. To make sure I don't just quit, I will keep a blogdiary of my daily progressions:

http://eline-runathon.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00%2B01%3A00&updated-max=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00%2B01%3A00&max-results=9

Happy Halloween!

I like Halloween!
I've never celebrated it.
...?

This year will be the first time, and I'm überexcited about the menu I've put together. Basically, I want to start on it already, although I should wait one more day to keep things fresh.
I feel like a little kid, waiting on her birthday. The fact that (maybe) only 2 people will be joining the party doesn't spoil the fun. Or that I got an email from an ex-boyfriend saying he doesn't like Halloween because of what it stands for (-partypooper-). It doesn't matter.

The quest for a pumpkin to carve has also ended, and it's waiting for me on the kitchen counter with more patience than me.

I've even bought candy for the neighbourhood kids, so I won't feel like an idioot like last year, frantically searching for left-over chocolate and anything else remotely sweet (My sweet tooth has been kidnapped by the Toothfairy, some years ago...). This year I'm armed with a dish full of sweets!

The scary movies have been collected too. I am a big fan of psychological thrillers or paranormal movies. They really scare the crap out of me. After seeing the Curse, I couldn't sleep for days without the light on. Yet I come back for more and watched the Curse 2, plus both Japanese versions...

Anyway, all food is bought, I only have to put it together. Somewhere between the Ghostbrie, Mummified hotdogs and Gravedigging cake we will drink our Chopped hand sangria, watching very scary movies and waiting for the Trick or Treaters to knock on our door.

Yeay! So much fun! Maybe I'm a virgin at this stuff, but it takes practice, practice, practice to get good at something, right?

Settled in Spain

Living in Andalucía for 2 1/2 years now, I couldn't think of another place to call home. This is my home now and I'm used to the way of life here.

Missing Holland is more about missing my family and friends, but I don't want to go back to the lifestyle I had. Sure I made more money and things seem to have more structure. Sure I had coffee with friends, late night chats with my brohter and fun dates. I couldn't forget the last few months of living in Holland and the lifestyle I was creating around me. But I felt everything was changing as my friends started families, what could lead to me living the crazy single life alone. I knew I didn't want that forever, as it could also not satisfy me enough. I needed something more...

Other things that I do miss, is the timeframe of getting things done. It's absolutely no lie that everything in Spain is mañana, mañana. But then, once you are used to that, you neither feel the pressure of doing things asap yourself. What cannot be done today, will be left for tomorrow. It does add an calmness to things.

I don't envy the stories about how cold and rainy it is in Holland. People forget that the southern heat here has its ups and downs too. A tropical climate is wonderful when you are on holiday and don't have to wake up after a(nother) night of heavy partying, but sleep your hangover off on the beach. Or when you don't have to work day after day in a sufficating little room, where you virtually cannot think while sweat makes you stick to your chair. Or the choice of trying to fall asleep with a buzzing airco vs. an airless bedroom...
Yet, I wouldn't change it for the world. I love the free feeling of the beachtown that I live in, the Spanish openness and fiery temperament. After all... negative things only stay that way until you decide to flip your frown upside down.

Living here does make me less undertaking at times. I don't go out as easily or get things sorted by phone. It's still hard to give a witty reply to the girl next to me in the supermarket complaining about the length of the queue.
I reckon it's just time. It took time for me to learn English and feel comfortable enough to do such things... it's only time before it'll be the same in Spanish. And I know I need the challenge. Without it, I'd get bored. As a restless soul, I need changes in my life, big enough to reach goals that take time to accomplish...

I know now, that giving yourself a wake-up call from time to time, isn't always such a bad thing. You never know which roads lies ahead of you or where you might end up...

What's up, little babies?

After rain comes sunshine... and what could bring more sun than the arrival of baby Ethan!! My dear sis give birth to him on Friday the 17th of October. Such a proud auntie I am! Although I have 3 nieces, this is the first nephew and I can't wait to see him when Miguel and I will visit him in December.

It's weird, I am so much closer with my sister than my older brother, and for some reason this baby feels more closer too.
And as I tell the news to friends or family here in Spain, along comes always the question... what about you? Like when you pass a 'certain' age, or you are in a longterm relationship, you should suddenly have the urge to start a family too?

I do, sometimes. Have that urge, I mean. Other times I don't. The point is yes ofcourse I would like to have a family of my own and I also know I cannot wait around for ever to let it 'happen'. I enjoyed it a lot when one of my best friends were here for a week with her family. I do tend to be tolerant of babies that are close to me, which sounds worse than I mean, but I generally don't have a lot with little babies that I don't know.
-- Can I please stress that this non-tolerance feeling does NOT count for that best friend's kid, and ofcourse my nieces and nephew, because they are the only ones so far that make me feel motherly and überpatient!!! --

Ok, so to continue, I like kids when they can talk, reason, play, are polite and generally take care of themselves. I could not wait for my dogs to get out of the puppy thing. Sure it's supercute, but I am not a very patient person that tends to fuss a lot. Which doesn't mean I don't worry when I picked up a little chick that fell from the tree and nursed it for 6 weeks, from being totally hairless and having to learn how to eat, fly and basically live, untill the moment it flies out. I did keep 'Tio Pio' beside my bed and wake up every 2 hours because I worry that it's not moving anymore.

But the strong urge of wanting to be a mother, I don't have it all the time and I never had it (all the time). I do know I could handle it, and I will be very happy if and when it does happen. I mean, new parents in general keep saying that it changes your life completely, which makes sense. It's not about you anymore (which also makes sense). But if people really thought it was that bad, why do they keep having kids? Exactly...

Oooh but I'm sure these moments uncertainty will totally dissapear when it comes to my kids... We will see...

Tic-tac-tic-tac!

Losing a Loved One

My dear Grandmother of 86 years old, died last week on 4th of September 2009.

She was one of the people I admired most, aways strong, loved being the centre of attention and was proud of everyone in her family.

I know she was old, I know some things weren't quite right. Yet it completely surprised me, as she was supposed to have a routine procedure in the hospital. Unfortunately, mistakes where made. I don't want to go into details here, because I want to remember how she lived, not how she died.

My mother told me a few years ago, how my grandma was proud of my decision to put an end to my marriage, when things just couldn't be fixed anymore. How she probably would have done the same, if she had the courage, lived in a different age and didn't have the children to worry about. She was always strong, work always had to be done and you had to take care of yourself. She liked when people dressed smartly and looked slim. Men were viewed as caretakers, and decisionmakers. Women as obedient and hardworking, non-complaining. Basically a typical view of how things were when one is born in 1923.

My mom also told me how my grandma once said that I was the most special grandchild for her. And when she asked why, she simply answered: because she made me a grandmother. I hope that is something that my sister's first born can give to my mom and feel special like that. My grandmother looked forward to my sister's baby, and somehow I know that child will carry something of her inside.

During WWII, as a 17 year old girl, her family and many others were ordered to leave their houses and go to safer areas. The government stated that all farmers in the north of the country - the part least populated - must take people into their homes and provide work and food. To get there, these families had to cross German borders and were taken in trains on German grounds to travel up north, because railways in The Netherlands were destroyed so no-one could flie. They were shoved together in carriertrains, with no seats, no air and no light. People were sick, filthy and had all kinds of diseases due to bad hygiene and lack of soap. During the travel, American and English allies thought their train was a German train and attacked. You can only imagine how scary that was. Luckily, the train wasn't hit and they arrived safely. Only to be seperated from her family, my grandmother went to work on a farm for the rest of the duration of the war. Hers were the only people who obviously were angry to take in people, and she had a horrible time, doing slave work for very little food and bathing priviledges. She never kept in touch with them after that, unlike many other families who always held tight connections with the farms where they stayed.

She got married with my grandfather at 27. He was often quite sick, due to captivity in WWII and having to work for the Germans in a factory. So she made a little extra money cooking. She catered for weddings, communions, funerals and other occasions where food might be needed. Taking care of the children during the day, working until 4 at night.
My mum, sis and I definitely inherited her love (and skills) for cooking.

I know life continues, the circle of life works that way. We have to pass on what we were tought. And that... we will do to honour our loved ones who sadly passed on.

Thank you Oma, You will Never be Forgotten, You will Always be Loved. You are the Root of Our Excistence. I Love You.

Things that I know about me

With finding your talent, comes a lot of soulsearching too. About what are you really good at, what are your weaknesses, what are facts and whether you are just completely in denial. (Not to be mistaken with the one flowing through Egypt.)

# I don't like it when people critizise me. Period. I might stay calm on the outside, but you should see the vulcano that rises inside me. I usually get really defensive and start to make up stuff or try to turn the 'blame' around. Or I just huf and shut up.

# I don't like to know I made a mistake. After all, I'm perfect, right?

# I'm not a busisnesswoman. I try to be, but I'm not. When it comes to handling clients, I'm very polite and correct, but I just cannot market myself well. And I need too, I'm a freelancer after all.

# I'm very true to my starsign; Pisces. I adapt like water to every shape and form, about how I believe people of what like me to be. Astrologists claim it's because as the Pisces is the twelfth and last sign, I carry a little bit of every starsign. It's explained as you shouldn't see me as someone who isn't herself, but I'm a little bit of everything. Hey, works for me!

# I'm not good at fighting. Sometimes I have to be. It's not the fighting I have to work on, it's getting to understand what the other tries to tell me. Sometimes that takes a while.

# I'm really really bad at sending birthday cards on time. 9 out of 10 times I'm just late. It's not because I don't care, it's because I somehow think that I have more days left to send a card, then I have in reality. If you're lucky, the occasional card will land on your doormat in time. Sometimes, you just won't get any. (After 2 weeks it's ridiculous to send one, right?)

# I'm very tall. Most of you know this. Well, I hate it. Actually, I used to do so more than I do now. It made me more insecure than I should have been throughout my youth and teens. When you are tall, you cannot hide. When you are a teenager, you don't want to stand out. People notice you whether you want it or not. People think you are older when you are young.

# People estimate me younger than I'm really am. Exactly the opposite of when I was younger. I am definitely NOT complaining about this one!

Positively I could come up with more things, and possibly nicer things, but I'm happy so far.

Me Llaman Calle

They call me Street...
It's a song about one of my favorite Spanish movies called 'Princesas'. The movie is about 2 prostitutes who become friends against all odds.

I listen to the song a lot and sometimes I compare it to the work I'm doing. No, I'm certainly not a prostitute, in case you were wondering...

I refer to the competitive business that online freelancing has. Most of the joboffers that I find are about you having to be a multi-year highly professional certificated translator who knows about every topic like travel, legal, finance, marketing, medical, science and preferably know all translation tools there are, but please only human translations, maybe also some writing, editing, SEO, webbuilding etc... But for free. Well, as close to free as possible. It feels like exploiting.

Sometimes it's overwhelming about what you need to know, certainly as I'm quite new in the business. But more and more I get to learn that it's impossible to know everything. It takes time, it takes patience and sometimes you get lucky and a client who has selected you is willing to lend a hand. That's how I learn; sometimes thanks to a lucky break, sometimes because I see I need to know about a certain translating tool. I learn bit by bit. And hey, everyone had to start at the beginning, so why should I be the exception of the rule?

I'm getting streetwise in the world of online translation.

Feng Shui Fun

Yesterday, I was restless. I needed a change. Pronto!

So I turned my bedroom upside down once again. Ever since I moved here, 2 years ago, I have not been satisfied with the position of the bed. I always wake up during the night and the fact that I keep staring at the door drives me nuts.

Now I'm almost happy. I've tried following some Feng Shui rules, so I got distracted reading about that on the internet. Leaving the whole house in a state of unruly mess. When I need a change, I mean it! Apparently, according to Feng Shui, your bed is not supposed to be aligned with the door as it represents the dead leaving the house feet first, therefore taking a lot of your energy. You bed cannot be under a window and also needs a headboard (the latter we don't have), both for security. The bed cannot be positioned so that a mirror is reflecting you. This is like a third person coming into your relationship. Which means problems.

The room makes all of these options impossible to change, because we have a huge closet with mirrordoors, and either a window or door on impossible sides of the room. Now I've shoved the bed next under the window, somewhat awkward. The bed is half reflected by the mirrordoors, but you can only see my legs and the best thing is: I'm not looking into the doorway anymore.
Let's see how this works out.

While I read the Feng Shui rules, I also learned about no mirrors in your entrance door, at least not when it's directly opposite the front door. A mirror pushes back the new and positive energies that need to flow into your home. Which we had...
So, change the hallway also. The mirror now hangs into the living room and the hallway is made into a little Japanese shrine. It's a small but effective difference. Later, when I turned to read my email, I had good news from an excisting client, and an inquery from a potentially new client. Maybe it really does work?

Mad in Morocco

One of the countries that was high on my list of visiting, was Morocco.

I somehow did know what to expect, in terms of cultural differences, way of trading, food, etc.
Still, it was a cultural shock. I didn't expect the old centre to be so poor. Just sandroads; trash everywhere, horrid smells, people walking bare foot or barely on foot, donkeys, mopeds, you name it. Quite the opposite from the new area, where you'd find luxurious hotels, Gucci and Prada stores, beautiful clean streets and buildings. The only thing being odd where the Peugot 305 cabs, which all seemed to have a dirty camel color (sure that's no coincidence?)

Another contradiction was our Riad downtown Marrakesh which is called a Medina. A Raid is similair to an hotel, the difference is that it's usually a typical Moroccan house, which has appr. 4 floors. The entrance floor, the bedroom floor and the rooftop being the terrace. Ours also had a basement where the owners lived. The Riad was beautifully decorated, with everything Middle Eastern style. Just like you see in the magazines.
The rooms aren't locked. Ofcourse, keys are provided when asked, but as our group of friends occupied 4 out of 5 rooms, we didn't feel it was necessary.

It truly felt like an oasis, a centre of peace in the middle of the crazy Medina. The road to it was a tunnellike street, seemingly leading nowhere. Just a door on the left which you'd knock and hello! Paradise!

The owners and their staff where amazing and even provided beer for us when we'd be so desperate to find a nice cold can of beer, but can be quite impossible in a Muslim country. Only at evening meals in expensive restaurants we'd be lucky enough to get a 28 euro bottle of wine or a 6 euro bottle of Heineken. Ouch! Having said that, it was worth it every little cent.

I've had cuisines I've never tasted before, like lamb with cinnamon, or chicken pastries with sugar or beef with dates. It truly was a mindblowing experience. If it was up to me, I'd spent all day eating!

What I didn't expect to be so exhausting was the haggling. Seriously. You could be spending half an hour trying to pay 4 euros less. First it's fun, later you just want to pay whatever and get out.

The Medina has Souks right of the big square Jemaa el Fna. Each Souks has it's area and are usually divided by trade. One area has only leather, the other wood, cotton, shoes, jewelry andsofort. Jemaa el Fna has a lot of stands where you can find freshly squeezed OJ or you can have your body decorated with henna. The favorites are the snakecharmers and the monkeys. Moroccans see a great deal of humor in it to chase after tourist with these animals. I however, was not so amused...

The Moroccans can be quite friendly. Most of them will come up and talk to you, just to know where you're from. Others use this as a way to lure you into their shop. Truth is, you can not walk around having thoughts to yourself for more then 2 minutes. Someone WILL interupt them.

The real challenge was not to get overrun by a bicicle, moped or donkey. They don't stop. Period.

And they don't go slow neither. They just dodge you...well...sort of. You learn fast enough though. You keep to the walls and hang on to your bag. Watch where you step in front of you (mind the holes, puddles, mudd, poo, kittens, peoples feet) and look left, right and backworths. It's a skill you master with time.

I think we had such a great time, because we where with many friends. 12 people. So you'd always had someone to talk to or you'd go and visit the same places of interest. If you don't go with a plan you will be a little lost in the madness of it all.

If you asked me would I go back to Morocco? I honestly don't know. It's definitely something you should do at least once in your life, but I find so many other things interesting aswell. And frankly... more alluring.

Nevertheless, I'll re-consider it when my upset stomach and yes... the runs have dissapeared.

Attitude

While I was writing an old friend about my life here, I told her about the job I had last summer:

Waitressing in a 4 star hotel.

I hated it. I was nervous going to work and felt sick almost everytime. But I went. It was difficult, I didn't understand the language perfect and I had to understand a lot of new phrases and words having to do with tourism and hospitality.

The first two month I worked nightshift, starting at 8 or 9 pm -officially untill 1am- but always ended up around 2, 3 or even 4 am. I had to wear an outfit containing blue pants, white shirt and ochre vest. Yes, wonderful. It was vinyl of polyester, so very sweaty for the summers. Yuk.

I could never be fast enough and the maître d' would always seem to pick on me (that wasn't true at all, we got on great after work) which made me more nervous. I know he was just being hard on me for my potential. HA!
The last month they asked if I wanted to substitude a colleague who worked mornings. That suited me fine as I would have to do overtime and close everything up. Again, I had to try and fit into this new group of people, but they seemed a lot nicer than the previous. I started to enjoy it a little more and felt more comfortable with my language and could make jokes with them.

The relationship between co-workers is very different than what I'm used to. Eventhough there are bosses and subbosses and vicebosses and second waiter and first waiter, it all seemed like one family. Ofcourse, when clients are there, you are not allowed to talk too much with colleagues, but the atmosfere always seemed airy and not to serious (unless the Hotel Director entered....) The relationship with clients was always professional yet personal.
The Spanish temperament clearly showed in correlation with the clients. There was a slight kind of indiference when it came to complaints. They simply shrugged it off after providing the client with what they wanted, usually combined with a joke. It did make me understand the Spanish mentality a little better.

Nevertheless I was counting the days untill the end of my contract. They wanted to renew it, but I kindly declined. I couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to persue my translating career. Through this job I also learned that I enjoyed helping tourists finding their way around the area. I was mostly send to the foreigners tables, since I can speak English, Dutch and some German apart from Spanish. It did give me an edge, I guess.

What I really would like to do is have a little of both. I want to use my knowledge of languages and interact with people at the same time. Who knows what lies ahead of me?

Girlfriends

As I'm loving living in Rota, I'm also in between 'here' and 'there'. 'There' being what I used to call home. Holland.

It doesn't mean that I want to live back there again. But I do miss my family and my friends. Especially now I recently got back in touch with several old friends. How funny they all choose the same month and year to get back in touch with me, has it anything to do with some star alignment?

I miss that I don't really have any girlfriends here. Sure I know plenty of girls, but cannot express myself in Spanish as I can in my own language, or in English.
The thought of seeing my friend Daphne soon, who is coming for a week visit with boyfriend and baby, is very exciting. Then I also have my friend Paige, who is coming for a short visit in September, and it looks like she's really making her dream happen to come and live in Sevilla. For sure she'll be in Europe, hopefully meaning more visits and a more similar time-zone.

It's funny how friends fade in and out of my life, sometimes the contact very heavy, and other times we seem to be more absent. But never distant.
I don't have many good friends, and I prefer it that way, so I can invest in people who are truly worth it. That also goes for the recently new contacts. Girls who maybe left my life but never my heart. And it proves that recent emails or conversation felt like we only saw eachother yesterday. The trust never really left. And I don't hold grudges. You lose touch because life takes you on different roads. Nobody is to blame, life just happens.

Thanks to all of you, who made an effort to get back in touch with me. You have no idea how I loved hearing from you again!

Praia das Furnas

I'm back from Portugal!

Boy, how I notice I'm getting older. I don't enjoy big crazy parties anymore. I enjoy quiet time with a few friends.

How excited I was to get out of the car after 5 hours driving and finally see the beautiful Portuguese beach. That is something that Spain cannot compare with, no matter how much I love 'my' beach in Rota. The ocean in the Algarves is cristalclear, even when you are standing waist-deep. So blue, so quiet and soo cold! A good wake-up shower, especially with a hangover!

Friday was our day of arrival, Saturday would be the party. Fridaynight meant a get-together with our friends from Sevilla. As we waited on Nacho, Saber and Antonio, who would supply us the BBQ (we had the meat) it was just sitting in the cool sand, sipping on our Cruzcampo Beers. Good thing we came prepared with a whole loaf of bread and some coldcuts, otherwise we wouldn't have survived the wait. Our dear friends finally showed up at around midnight, totally wasted. They managed to spend 100 euros each on the way from Seville to Portugal - barhopping!

Nevertheless, the BBQ was on. As we sat in a circle, around two little fires, Nacho passing out our grilled meat sandwiches, Cesar playing his Spanish guitar, I felt happy. It takes a few things to feel total happiness, and I usually find them in small things. When I looked up at the nightsky, I could see the milky-way. So far away from everything, yet cosy surrounded by this small circle of friends, I forgot all the worries I had in this world for a moment.

For the next day, the big party was planned. I was less excited about that for some reason...maybe I'm psychic or supersensitive to feeling bad vibes in the air. Everything was fine during the morning and early afternoon. Miguel, Nacho, Saber and me spend all day together, going into the neighbouring village of Figueira, enjoying the scenes, beautiful streets and the Portuguese Sagres beer. That was all we need, just the four of us.

Although I hung out with 3 boys that were talking amongst them most of the time, I never felt leftout and frankly, I enjoyed having my thoughts to myself. After a phonecall, Nacho tells us we should lunch at this amazing restaurant, where we'll be meeting up with other friends and party-goers. I think he was the only one really up for it as the rest of us couldn't care less about meeting up. Saber did want to taste some local cuisine, as he said it's normally impossible doing such thing with Nacho, usually ending up having a BBQ. So we decided to go ahead with it.

Arriving at the scene, the restaurant is situated on a clif at the most beautiful beach that Carrapateira has. I'm a big fan of this beach, and it's surfnirvana. Candy for the eye, I'd say! We go to the back and find all of our friends already seated at a table that takes up the full length of the patio. They insist making another row of tables, but we prefer to stay seated at a table for the four of us. We can decide about our own dishes, without having to share it with 20 other people.

Then, out of nowhere, we see the DJ and host of the party getting upset about something. We look back and to eachother, slightly bewildered at what is going on. Somebody is trying to calm him down. Then the DJ rises up from the table and flies over to the end of the row, shouting at a girl. Our bewilderment grows and the whole crowd silences. Nobody dares to say anything. The DJ goes to sit down, the girl quietly leaves from the table walking alone down the road to the beach. Nobody follows her.

The food arrives but the silence is unbearing. Slowly people start to chatter and laugh again, but the awkwardness of it all doesn't leave the air. Right now, I couldn't care less about the party and rather get up and leave... But I don't, and we quietly whisper about what the hell was going on? I think it's rude and disrespectfull to everyone to let yourself go this way, especially with so many people witnessing the incident. Later, we find out that the DJ was shouting to his sister, and that she wasn't welcome at the party because of a current breakup with her and the DJ's best friend that was very painfull. She was told not to come but did anyway and the friend was shaken up with this. I don't get it, choosing your friend over family, but whatever, we don't know what more really is going on. It doesn't hide the fact that we are all 30-something and things could be handled in a more mature way.

We finish our delicious food, a fish-stew with a tomato sauce, and we head back to Figueira village to our now favorite bar. After all this, we don't feel like the party and rather stay there as long as possible. But after time, we start forgetting about the ordeal and we continue meeting up with another 2 friends that will be arriving from Seville; Jaime and Rafa. We do this in Carrapateira town, were we sit at yet another bar, while Nacho and Saber head on looking for somewhere to shower. I know already I won't last long for the party and don't care for having a shower myself.

And that's the second time this day that my 'psychic' ability comes forward. When we arrive at the beach where we left our tents, we are told to pack up and leave by the local police. After a lot of hesitating, talking and negociations, we go. With a police escort. They block off the road from the beach to the highway so our 'caravan' of cars can safely pass and we are guided to an open field full of windmills. We are to have our party here. The police joins for a bit, then leaving honking the carhorns after singing happy birthday in Spanish over the intercom. No joke. They probably had the day of their lives. I however, am fed up with it all, as the location sucks and I'm annoyed with the younger kids who think they are alone in this party. I hold on for maybe another hour and another rum/coke before turning into bed.

I had a good time, but next year I'm planning to do it different. But hey, who's complaining?

Quillo and Amorcita

When I stayed at my parents after my divorce, I also needed some me-time. My sister introduced me into this game called 'Second Life'. I didn't understand it at first and left it for a couple of months only to try again. Since my sis lived in England, and still does, it was a fun discovery for us to do the same things online as we would in real life. Shopping, dancing, swimming, talking, anything you can basically think of doing in real life.

So anyway, I started get into it, and we particularly liked dancing at an online 'rave'. Not for the music at all, but simply because of how many people it attracted. My online name was in Spanish, and I called myself 'Amorcita', meaning little love. That seemed to attract quite a few Spanish guys, although conversation quickly stopped since I knew exactly 5 words Spanish. But not for Quillo. He was interested in teaching me some Spanish and we conversed in English. He thought it was funny I used a Spanish name and not speaking Spanish. I thought it was funny he addressed me because he really wanted to get to know Englishspeakers, and since my name didn't have anything English... Well, it was a funny coincidence.



We started to see eachother a few times online, usually by chance, untill I noticed I started looking out for him. I did have other 'playdates' but none of them seem to be that interested in talking alone. So I lost my interest in them quickly. Not Quillo. I laughed constantly with him and soon we'd started online 'dating'. I remember the first set date was to a chapel in Las Vegas, and we got married. It's something I would definitly do, and I think that made me fall for him. I laughed as he accidently ended up in a gays night club and we lost eachother. I laughed because he couldn't figure out how to quit his red luminary crown of light around his head.

I had so much fun with him. Later we started to call eachother, or talk with eachother through webcam and msn. Things went fast.

Then I knew I had to make a decision. I could stay with my secure, but slightly becoming monotone job as an officemanager. OR, I could start again, as I would have to do anyway. I would have to leave my parents house at some stage, right? With the job they couldn't offer me more hours, so that made it easier for me.... I'd quit my job, I had a one-way ticket booked and I was off to Spain with one overpacked suitcase. I had everything I needed.

The hardest part was leaving my dog Farran behind. He'd stay with my parents untill my ex would pick him up from Ireland in the new year. So I left... and only my best friend Daphne was allowed to take me to the airport, otherwise, I'd much rather go alone. I'm not good at goodbyes.

On the plane, I remembered being more calm than standing in the check-in line, which was humongous. More time to doubt my decision. Thank god for Daphne being there, she'd kept me sane. The flight was agonizingly long, slightly under 3 hours, but still. There were a lot of young people on this late flight, probably having spend a weekend smoking pot in Amsterdam. They were noisy, which for once, I didn't mind. It was a welcome distraction to my thoughts. Getting off the plane I felt the pressing heat of the Spanish Summer in Sevilla covering me like a blanket. That instantly made my mouth dry. We had to take a bus towards the baggage claim and I remember a group of guys inviting me to a party that night. I laughed shyly and said I'm meeting someone.

That someone I saw peeping out of the sliding doors, looking particularly nervous. There he was...Quillo, my online hero. And the beginning of a new episode...Miguel and Eline.

Portugal and the Party

So this weekend we will go the biggest rave between friends. Yes, rave. It does still exist.
I have to say that a small group of friends organize this every year, and the DJ and his wife are somewhat elderly. With that I mean in their early forties. Hence the rave-music. I don't care for the music itself, and is certainly not the reason why I went the past 2 years.

But every year around this time, I get butterflies again, because for me, this party was kind of the whole thing that started my online relationship with Miguel.
When we were just talking friendly, he would always invite my to the party in Portugal and he would set me up with his friends. Little did he know, that I wasn't really looking to be with his friends, but more interested in meeting him. Little did I know, that indeed 2 months later, I would be joining him for real!

The best part is when we all meet up on Carrapateira beach on fridaynight. It's a casual get-together of our closest friends, and usually people I haven't seen for months. When it's dark, we start with a BBQ, which is no more than a piece of meat with a slice of roasted bread. But it's yummy after being 4-5 hours on the road. We eat, talk, drink and laugh untill we're too drunk, too tired and find our way to our (if lucky, previously put up and organized) tent.

We sleep untill sunrise, go for a dip in the sea and collect our collectables to head of to the party. This is usually on another beach, as it is set up illegal. Camping on the beaches in Portugal is not allowed, neither in Spain, but in Portugal, the police don't tend to control that much. They only give a warning and saying you have to move your stuff in a rather scary fashion, but no more.
That's why we pick remote beaches in Portugal for the party. The more difficult to reach, the less likelier it is that police will show up.

What I love the most about the party, apart from seeing long lost friends, is that fact that The Algarve of South Portugal is so beautiful. The landscape is rough, the ocean is blue, the beaches are untouched by humans. At night, you feel so small, with those million starts in the sky, covering the world like a dreamy blanket. I feel more one with nature, and it puts a lot of things in perspective. Daily stupid worries dissapear for a while, home doesn't exist for a while, only the here and now.

The tent is standing at the front door, the sleeping bags are washed, the cooling box has been dusted off. Sandwiches are to be made, water is needed. Will it get cold? Where is my flashlight? We are going tomorrow!!

Tio Pio

A few weeks ago, I found a little sparrow in our garden. It was bald, apart from a few tufts of feather on his tail and wings. As Miguel always tried to rescue them, and we had a few over the past years, I felt like I should too do a good deed.

The problem as is with all little birds, they need a lot of attention and I wasn't so sure we would do the right thing. Normally they say to leave them alone, but this one obviously would die if not rescued and was covered by ants. Close call...

Also, so far our attempts to rescue little birds were unsuccesful. One died of hunger when we couldn't come home on time from a wedding. Another died of sleeping in a drafty place. But, confident we could do it this time, I decided to rescue the little one.

As far as the name, we each name all them Tio Pio, what kind of translates as Uncle Chirp. We stopped counting, however...

It is a lot of hassle, they need food every 1-2 hours. Luckily, it sleeps through the night, but as birds do...rise early.
It did cost me a lot of sleep, since I had it close to my bedside and could feed him with my eyes closed if necessary.
With Miguel's mom babysitting at times to give us a night off, we were relieved for not having to wake up at dawn after a night on the town.

Now, about 5 weeks later it has grown and with a few attempts to let him fly in the meantime, we felt yesterday that it was time to practise the big flight. We went outside for the last time, lured him out of the cage and off he went. Over the neighbour's wall into their garden. I haven't seen him since, but like any good 'parent' I left the cage outside with food and water if necessary.

I am not sad, it is not like when those others had died due to our lack of knowledge. Now, I think we did a good deed and helped another living creature to a second chance in life.

Torn between two cities

When I visited Sevilla for the first time, now around 2 1/2 years ago, I was with my parents for a mini break, while I was going through my divorce. They had planned a trip to Spain for ages with a friend of my dad and I decided last minute that I wanted to tag along. So we had travelled by car with said friend from Holland all the way through boring France and I was super excited to be in Spain for the first time in my life. We had visited several places along the way and the plan was to spend 5 nights in Sevilla. Wow, what a city. I remembered getting out of the car and smelling oranges! Sadly, over time I have gotten used to the scent, so I don't notice it anymore.

I loved being there more than anything, and after the 5 day visit I told my parents that I will come back to this city, no matter what. That I didn't know how, when or with who, but I would.
Little did I know that I would meet Miguel, love of my life, 7 months later. Little did I know that he lived close to Sevilla and that I would come to visit him, landing in Sevilla, never to return again.

Still I experience that magic that Sevilla has, when I visit. I get all tingly inside when I see the bridge, later followed by the wide open streets with the palmtrees on the side. Part of me doesn't want to live IN the city, maybe afraid of losing that magic. I love the place where I live now, a little coast-town named Rota and I only have to walk my street to see the beach. I love it too, because I brought my dog to Spain, and I feel that in Sevilla we cannot live comfortable with two big dogs. That means going to a house in the suburbs, which kinda looses the idea of living in the city itself.

The deal is quite good though, we visit Sevilla and friends more during spring, autumn and winter, and our friends visit us in spring, summer and autumn. In Sevilla, it's ridiculously hot in the summer, with temperatures reaching 50ºC, and the town where I live, it's windy, cold and boring in winter.

When spring arrives, Rota comes to life. Kids on bikes and scooters, usually in shorts or bikini's, depending on gender ofcourse. People are outside, usually eating in bars, the chiringuito's open, which could be compared to Tiki-bars, where food and cocktails are served. Parties happen everywhere, beaches become crowded by tourist, I start to hear English, German and Dutch and I laugh because the people have no idea how stereotype they are for their countries.
It makes my feel like I have a secret. That I know something noboday knows, because I get to live here all year round, whereas most come to visit for 2 weeks holiday.

Cleaning me this, cleaning me that

As I know have experienced several visits from family and friends, there is one thing I never do:
Ask them for help.

So far most people have been fairly good about it-my favorite being my friend Tori and sis Mara, who are both neurotic cleaners, such as I am, but only when having friends over.

I can be sloppy, at times, mostly when I simply don't have the time. Other times, when I'm deliberately selfish I want to spend time reading in the sun.

So my new motivation is to make people join the cleaning activities more. I know they are on holiday, but, hey-it's free boarding, and I'm not an hotel. Nor get I paid for hosting. I, however think, paying me off with goodies is a legal currency ;)

Seriously, it's not only about preparing food, it's keeping your stuff to yourself, or at the guestroom as much as possible, not taking up the hangmat when specified I want to use it, or clearing up dishes after yourself. It's not that bad usually. It's just after a while, people start to feel relaxed about being here and I end up cleaning for twice as much people and having to work and entertain in between.

I'm not gonna let that happen. I hope. I'm just not good at asking for help. As I said. I just end up feeling guilty.... oh boy....

Memoires of a Roteña

So much can happen in such a short time.

A few days ago, we waved my dear friend Paige goodbye, as her Spanish adventures are over, having spend nearly 3 months in the mediterranean. We've spend Semana Santa and Feria together, 2 of the most important holidays after Christmas, and tons of other city and/or beachtrips. It was a time full of tapas, rioja and laughter. The happy memories will always stay with me and cannot wait for her return.

With her moving towards a new era in her life, so do we. Tomorrow we'll be leaving for a 6 day visit to my parents, to celebrate my grandmothers 86th birthday. As we planned, my sister and her boyfriend are also coming over from England, since we haven't seen eachother in over a year now, seemed like the perfect oportunity to have the whole family together.

After that, who knows. I know summer is starting. I've already spend numerous days in the sun, when work permits it. That usually means a time full of hot, sweaty days, chilling at the beach, drinking cocktails in Chiringuito's, weekends with friends. Just delightful.
I also know that my other dear friend Daphne, is coming to us for a week with her long-term boyfriend Roel, and baby Keane. I'm very much looking forward to that.

In life, I find a few things that are important to me. Apart from the obvious- my boyfriend, our families, dogs and our friends. I also know that spending time with either of them are just as important. You know, not taking granted for what you have, but appreciate it. Time comes and always goes, the memories won't.
If you don't put yourself out there, making life happen, than life happens to you. You'll meet people, but not taking an interest will never lead you to a new friendship, a potential workoportunity, and so on.

I know of people that never travel anywhere, don't even leave town, don't like to socialise, just don't like spending money. What good is money going to do, when you are 85, with nobody to share it with? Never enjoying life, not having great memories of stupid things you've done.

That's why I love travelling, meeting new people, having new experiences. Sometimes things don't work out the way you wanted, but at least you tried. It does make you richer. Not in money, but as a person. Which is the most important in life? That's for each to decide.

Night for Me

As today is a relatively normal day - apart from the fact that it's Miguel's birthday (!) - I wanted to give you an insight of what I do on such a day.

As the alarm goes at 08.00 am, I hit the shower and get ready to go to town, as I need to get some stuff for my folks (their be-lated momsday gift and early dadsday gift). Miguel drops me off at the postoffice as he goes on to the cityhall to get his unemployment check-up. I do my rounds, find out that; Oh yes, the shops don't open untill 10.00am and end up walking in circles doing nothing. Miguel calls me and ask to meet him at his mom's so we can get some breakfast. I do that, in the meantime meeting Miguel's uncle on the street and go to the house.

I have some coffee, Mig and his mum also have some toast with butter/Jamon and oil and while she is getting ready to go to meet his sister in Cádiz, we head out to town again and I finally get what I need. We also buy some lottery tickets - a weekly ritual that usually earns us back some 10 euro's. I've already won 2000 euro's last spring and another 70 euro's in the fall, plus a whole lot of 10 euro's - Yeay!

When we head back to home, I get ready to work on my translations and Miguel hits the studybooks. He's studying for prisonguard and wants to make the exam this year October.
At around 02.00pm, we get our lunch ready - a healthy lettuce, pepper and cucumber salad with some grilled chicken. Yums!
Back to our work and at 05.00pm we take a little siësta, which is quite normal here, but we only rarely do, unless we really are tired.
Feeling fit after an hours sleep, we continue working and at 07.00, Miguel gets ready for his class, which he goes to twice a week, given by a prisonguard to help others preparing for the big exam.

Which means, I have me-time! I clean the garden a little bit, organise the house and go to my laptop to write my blog.
Since it will take around 3 1/2 hours to see Miguel again, I will probably just relax, watch some tv, maybe call my mom. Miguel's birthday will be celebrated another day, probably with some friends and a BBQ this weekend. Ah...the shear bliss of it all....

Feria, La-La-La!!

How awesome is Feria? Just a week full of holiday, sun, drinking, eating, dancing and you get to spend it with all of your friends.


The girls get to wear the prettiest dresses, the boys looking smart in their suits. I just love people-watching during Feria (EN: Fair; NL: Kermis) I stopped loving Feria in my country since I was 14 and at that time it was the 'cool' thing to just stand at the bumbercars, riding them once in a while. Turns out that never changes, neither here in Spain.
They split Feria up in two parts; one for the grown-ups, the other for the youth. The youth is mainly at the fairrides, and so is grandmother and their grandchildren. However the grown-up part isn't shy of having their fair share of grandma's and kids too. We all hang out in big plastic stands called "caseta's", standing shoulder to shoulder, and each with their own name or number. Usually colorfully designed with red and white stripes.

In Sevilla, each familia or group of amigo's have their caseta rented, so you are assured of a spot to hang out in. Their is a bar, loads of uncomfortable tables and chairs and a podium where the dancing and performing happens. The floor is mud or sand if your lucky which btw ruined the bottom of my dress -thank you very much-!
And really all you do is hang out, eat, drink, dance and converse. It's just a great excuse to go crazy, I guess.






I had the best time, we were so fortunate to stay at a friends house, that only lived a metro-ride away from the Feria, but since the WHOLE of Spain decided to go, ended up more in taxi's than the subway. Gosh, I never saw people getting so crazy, not even in NYC, so you can imagen. There was just no room to fit everybody in, but still we stopped at every stop and people yelling there was just no room for more travellers. Aahh the horror!

Feria is like Disney World (I even saw something that resembled Winnie the Pooh!) and you are in a magical place, just ignoring the real world for a few days. No wonder everyone wants to come! I just loved wearing my wonderful dress, that happened to be incredible heavy and the ruffles hurting my shins while walking, but it was worth it. You feel like you are contributing to the magic.


The magic also included that my American friend Paige -who came back for the event- and I got so happy with our Rebujito, a mix drink of Manzanilla (applewine) and Sprite, that we got seperated from the group. My boyfriend Miguel came to find me, got very angry about this, me not understanding the big deal. Things ofcourse worked out quickly, because we were drunk and your personality changes with it. Other things like our friend Jaime falling down the subway stairs, breaking his shoe and him not remembering it with, but being angry that his shoe fell apart for no reason.
Paige got kinda lost on the last day, running off with our friend Saber, and Miguel and I waiting for her, catching a cold. We found her again, being semi-annoyed with the semi-abduction and we all got to go home again. I think there was even some falling to the floor involved and misterious bruises showing up the day after.
Just the usual.



But that's what I love of having friends and doing stuff together. You get to experience so much; you laugh, you cry, you get over it. These are the memories you will never forget. And when you are 80, you won't ever regret these great times you had. The only regrets you will have is the things you never got to do.

Happy Lazyness

It's one of these perfect lazy Sundays. I don't feel like I have to do anything I don't feel like doing. I slept in until 11. I ran on the tredmill for 3 kms. I cleaned the house a little. Miguel was studying all morning and now feeling ready for a break and something to eat.

We knew that today was 'Romaria' in Rota. I'm still not sure what it is, but it's a left over from Semana Santa. Anyway, we decided to walk to 'Los Pinos' the area just in front of our cul-de-sac, where a forest full of pinetrees divide the road and the beach. There was where heaps of people were gathering to eat the tipical foods and drinks during festivals. We walked around a bit, but feeling left out and not in the mood for partying, we headed back home, bought ourselves 2 liters of beer (Cruzcampo, ofcourse) and some firestarters for the BBQ-for-two-party we wanted to make.

Realizing we didn't have enough charcoal, we hopped in our car and headed out for the gasstation to buy some more. Halfway down the road I opted the use the electric grill instead and we both agreed that would save us the hassle of lighting a BBQ while our hunger grew.
Back at home, all the usual preparing went on. Defrosting the meat, the bread. Heating up the grill that we had put outside on the gardentable with an extension cable. Making a salad. Ow, music, we need music. While figuring out how to use my Ipod on the surround system, my meat got a little burned. You know, the usual stuff.

Once organized, we sat in the sun, eating our grilled meat sandwiches and looking at the dogs happily enjoying the fact of spending time with us at this side of the garden. We recently fenced off some part of the garden as the dog make huge holes and pee everywhere and we wanted to be able to have a BBQ or a lie in the sun without smelling a whiff or dogpee.

As Miguel is studying hard to become a prison guard and he wants to get on the same level as the rest of the (advanced) class, he soon decided it was time for him to go back to studying and I stayed behind in the garden reading an english novel that my friend left behind, acompanied by Gacho, our male dobermann.

After my tanning spot hit the shades, I decided it was time to go inside and leave the dishes for what they are and continue to read my book inside on our new and ever so comfortable sofa.

So now it is almost 9 and time to think about dinner. Miguel has already opted for another BBQ tonight, and we have still one liter of beer left. As I'm writing this blog, drinking a coffee, he comes to see me and ask if I want to go for a walk to the beach. We do this very often and it is very relaxing. When you come home from a small walk you just feel so happy and slightly tired and cosy and all you want is cuddle up on the sofa watching an episode of Gossip Girls or House.

And this is exactly what we'll be doing tonight!

Holy Week, the Whole Week

Semana Santa in Spain.
It's crazy. I mean, they have loads of big celebrations, but this is a really big one. From the beginning of the week there are these huge processions with holy statues which are carried around the city. It's hard to explain, you'd have to see it for yourself to see the scale of it.
The biggest day is the Thursday before Easter, which in Holland it's called 'White Thursday'. My friend Antonio walks in the most important procession starting from 0.00 until 14.00 the next day!



All in all, it was great fun, we hopped from bar to bar and house to house to follow some. My friend Paula invited us over to her flat and we had a great view plus she made the best food ever! I think we ate all before 11 and she was still expecting people to come over. Shame on us...

We spend all night awake. Barely. At 2 o'clock in the night we went to a friends office and were offered some snacks. At 6 we went to Nacho's house to watch the big one, the brotherhood of the Macarena (were my friend Antonio was walking in) and at 8 she finally passed as we received some coffee and breakfast. At 11 o'clock I finally layed in my bed and I never thought I could be sooo tired. At 5 the next day we all went for 'breakfast' with sleepy faces.



I'm glad I did it, I'm glad I survived it too. I don't think I will be doing this every year. Watch some, perfect. But not staying up all night. I need sleep. A lot. I am not ashamed of it. It's just who I am. I like sleeping. And I can sleep anywhere at any time.

So that's the short story about Semana Santa. Hasta la proxima!

A Girly Day

So after a week of intense partying, as it was Semana Santa in Sevilla, I was looking forward to a quiet weekend and as dessert... a Girly Day with Paige in Sevilla.

As I realised I just have been to Sevilla 5 times within 3 weeks, I was still happy (and needless to say somewhat exhausted) to go again. My friend was leaving for Italy the next day and we needed to get her dress fitted before Feria (surprise, surprise, another party in Spain!). After that, I'd go back home and she would spend the night there to catch an early flight.

The night before we left, my friend had dyed some of her clothes pink and was in a slight state of panic as she had to get her stuff packed - and dry. Nevertheless, the morning we were heading out to Sevilla, she was ready and we showed up early to find the bus with the engine on public display. Meaning...we wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

Unfazed, we decided to get some coffee and wait for whatever would happen. A point of view I seemed to have come to adopt while living in Spain. 'See what happens'.
An American older man addresses us, saying we would have plenty of time to take a coffee, as it was obvious the bus wouldn't leave anytime soon. Turns out, he is my neighbour. He lives only 5 houses away. It also turned out he's extremely talkative to a point were both Paige and me wanted some quiet time as she turned to her laptop and me to my book. He didn't seem to notice.
After arriving in Sevilla and saying goodbye to Sam the Fireman (no joke) we got on to grab a cab and to our appointment with our diseñadora (designer).

Paiges dress is simply stunning. It is not a traditional flamenco dress, but it has most of it's features. However, you can both wear it for Feria as for weddings or other special occasions. She fell in love with in the first time she saw it and it's absolutely perfect on her.
When I talked to my mum today she mentioned that my dad was concerned about the dress I had bought. "Does it really has all the ruffles and colours and what not more?" Yes it really has. And it's gorgeous. I have designed it myself, and with some suggestions of the designer, made it to a traditional yet modern flamenco dress. White, black and yellow are the colours. I just love it. It's heavy, but it fits like a glove! I'll have to send a picture of the dress to my dad, and see what he says then.



By the time we were done, and absolutely starving, we went for a fantastic lunch and quite a bit healthier than the previous meals we devoured during Semana Santa.
Simply a lovely day, including a frantic hair-flower search and an impossible to localize El Corte Inglés. It's official...I'm the worlds worst city tourguide!

Soon it was time to say goodbye and got a cab to her hotel. I had until then not yet decided if it was better to stay for another 20 minutes or just continue with the cab. I ended up deciding the last. The cab driver, however, wasn´t pleased as there is some stop and pay thing happening where it is appearantly custom to inform him about a drop-off and go-further drive. How the heck should I know these things? I don't get cabs everyday. He starts complaining about that, explaining me he'd have to charge me the starting fee, while stopping the car and turn the meter on and off again. I make a joke about the economic crisis, which he didn't take that well. Hey I really don't care about paying an Euro more! But...we end up chatting quite pleasantly about Semana Santa, La Feria, Americans, and the fact that he spend his summers in Rota, where I live. That seemed to create a bond and he offers a truce by giving me a discount. (I REALLY don't fret about paying the goddam extra euro). We end up at the station as I need to take the bus back home. Another problem...He cannot change from 50 euro. God...at this point I just want to be home, because I'm just really tired and he asks me if I could be so kind to change it somewhere. I do, but not before making clear that I AM taking my Feria dress with me. Absolutely NO WAY I'm leaving that behind. I get the note changed, everybody is happy and I wait for the bus clutching my beloved dress.

When I get off the bus, Miguel hasn't arrived and a man comes up to me asking for a sigaret. I don't smoke (anymore). He realises quickly I'm not from here and tries to confuse me by asking fast questions and repeating them (maybe a demented ex-cop). Lucky for me, I answer all of them just as fast and in perfect good Spanish and am not fazed by his attitude. He gives up and I wish him good night.
Why do (older) men in Spain treat women this way? That's how I feel when I am alone. Like I am a target or something. Maybe I look too sweet and easy to take advantage off. Or maybe I was just too tired.

I secretly curse Miguel for not showing up earlier, but it's not his fault and when he arrives we go to his mum for diner. Two glasses of wine later, I'm happy as Larry and dog-tired. I thank her from the bottom of my heart for the beautifull dress she sponsored and it almost makes her cry. I just love her.

The day is over and I can finally, finally spend some quality time alone with my guy. We played the X-box untill 2 in the morning.

First wind, second time around.

So this is the Story of My Life.

The Spanish Chronicles I've called it. The titel is inspired by a book that my best friend Daphne and I loved, about a girl named Alison. It was sharp and funny and I guess it was the kind of life we might have had if we were more brave and lived in a more exciting place during our teens. But I'm kinda glad we didn't as there were heaps of drugs involved. I always say I don't have the discipline to get addicted (to drugs).

Although I already live in Spain for nearly two years now, I decided I'd put my thoughts down about my life here and on a regular basis. In English. Not my mothertongue, but I chose to do this, so my English speaking friends can follow my blog and I get to keep up with the language.
Maybe I wasn't really ready before, but needed this time so far to order my thoughts and recover from a truly bumpy ride to were I am right now. Those of you who know me, understand what I'm talking about.

I started blogging about a year ago, with exactly the same goal, but thanks to a friend, I felt inspired to write more about my life, the thoughts and feelings I have in specific times of my life and not just let it pass by without remembering more than just the exciting stuff.
And right here, right now seems the best way to go about it.

Right now I am writing on a Friday evening, feeling relaxed about the work that I did this week and looking forward to a new weekend. As it is Semana Santa coming up here in Spain next week, I'm kinda glad it's gonna be a quiet weekend. My friend Paige will join us again after spending a few days in Tenerife and will stay another week with us in Seville to get the most out of spending time here in Spain before she leaves to persue her adventure around the Mediterrenean.

Spending time with her made me miss my friends even more. The friends I left behind at home in Holland and a friend I made while here in Spain who is currently finishing her studies in England. I'm sure sooner or later you will meet them throught my stories and get to know them through my eyes. Sometimes you meet people in your life, who you know will always be a big part in your life. You just click.

So, here we are. Let's hope I keep up with my promise and hopefully you will enjoy my stories.