Hello, lovelies! (Channeling all of the British pleasantries from shows I’ve been watching on Netflix and YouTube.) In my last entry, I recognized my struggle with control, uncertainty, and fear, and was trying to relinquish it all, because none of those things are positively impactful. I believe that the perspective one puts on something is how enjoyable or unfavorable a situation can really be. But sometimes, it is hard to dig up the right kind of perspective.
And that’s kind of where I was 5 weeks later.
With every passing day of, seemingly, an unchanged scenario, I felt less optimistic and more defeated. Especially, after throwing in some hours spent on job submissions that have not yielded favorable results. I mean, duh… maybe lower your expectations on that one, Kat.
For being such a logical person, I don’t know how I allow my emotions to get the better of me.
I have spent the past week+ with a weight on my shoulders. It’s the same one I had when the quarantine first started: suspended where I don’t feel I’m supposed to be. I know I can’t control the situation, but I feel this discordance nonetheless. To try to remedy the new onslaught of discomfort, I searched for things to make myself feel better.
One day, I drove 20 minutes to a café where I used to hang, got my favorite drink to-go and then spent a few hours at a friend’s house. Another day, I went for a walk at The Menil with the same friend, then picked up a boba tea to-go from a favorite teahouse. Another day, I dragged him to Trader Joe’s where we spent most of our grocery experience waiting in lines for 40 minutes so I could buy cheap wine and beer (worth it). The idea behind all of this was to give myself a taste of my former routine – a little dose of socializing in the flesh and things I hadn’t done since the quarantine began (except for buying beer and wine – definitely had done that a few times). When those didn’t leave lasting impressions, I pulled out an old project I was excited to finish thinking I just needed to focus on creating. The truth is, I quickly became disengaged in my project. I worked on it to the finish line, but I didn’t feel good as I worked or very accomplished when it was done.
And that is just about the worst: feeling crappy while creating.
I’ve been questioning the same things every time I feel shitty, since the reality of the quarantine sunk in, trying to uncover a missing piece. So, that started up again after the project. Why is this happening? Why am I stuck in Houston in my childhood home? Why am I in this uncomfortable situation? Why haven’t I found the job I want? What happened to all of the good vibes and intuition I felt in January? What am I supposed to do with this? What am I gaining from this situation? Stop. The latter, my lovelies, that’s the winning question.
My brain, in its mixed battle of anxiety and resolution-seeking, moves faster than I can blink, and it realized it was onto something. Instantaneously, the revelations piled up.
I suddenly realized I’ve been viewing this inconvenience in my life as a loss.
A loss of things like, money, time and opportunity. And in turn, these losses have made me feel like I’m failing. This perception possibly stands for a lot of people out there, especially, financially. I hope you know that you are not failing, no matter how much it feels like it. Ask yourself to see the other side.
When I asked myself again, what am I gaining from this situation, I thought about my family. I haven’t spent so much consecutive time with them since before I officially left home when I was 20. We aren’t a picture-perfect bunch, and we’ve had our differences, but we take care of each other.
As I dug deeper, I wondered if I what I need in this moment is to be cared for after doing so much independently the past 2 years. I wondered if I’ve gained all of this time with them because it’s the last chance I’ll have it.
With this in mind, it’s easier for me to let go of the perception of defeat and loss, the worry of not having what I desire right now, and to stop resisting the flow of what’s happening around me. I mean, I’m still worried and still feel a bit trapped. I am Kat, afterall. But I feel better. I feel better seeing the gains. And it only took me… 5 weeks… but that’s better than 6, no?
Of all the things I thought about putting in a blog, a virus
wreaking havoc on the world was the furthest from my mind.
It’s been a rather surreal past 2 weeks as I watch the world around me close up shop to lessen the chances of spreading COVID-19. My European friends have informed me what it’s been like for them with a myriad of adjectives, some of which resonate with me, too.
Let me back it up a super long time ago real quick so you have the perspective of, well, my perspective on all of this. Basically, I used to be afraid of people and the world in general. Not in a drastic, agoraphobic way, but definitely in a borderline anxiety attack keeps me from socializing and having a good time in public kind of way.
Fast forward 20 years with a lot of life experiences that helped pull me out of that cocoon little by little to make me feel the way I do now: I can do anything (on my best days).
So, for the person I am today, being more or less forced to shack up at home (with my parents on the east side of the city – please help me), because businesses, social functions, my current employers, and places I enjoy to visit are shutting down, is stirring up a lot of frustration. I am not afraid of what’s happening. Like my European buddies, I am annoyed by the disruption. Seemingly unlike them, I am also angry.
Anger is a really stupid fucking emotion to have. Nonetheless, it’s been rising up in waves as more things I can’t control are changing and impeding my desires to go out, to move forward.
So, the analytical side of me has started to dissect and reflect on what’s really going on, because, in case you didn’t know, psychologists say anger is a mask over a truer emotion. Usually, it’s fear.
But wait, didn’t I say I’m not afraid? Yes, and that’s true. I am not afraid of living with a “virus on the loose.” I am, however, fearful of something else…
My anger is masking feelings of helplessness and uncertainty. I feel like my life is suspended in this strange moment when I so badly want it to keep moving towards where I envision it.
While this isn’t the first time ever I’ve felt helpless in the event of many a natural disaster before, I had things I don’t have right now; a stable career, my own home and a partner (and health insurance). Even though the whole fucking world is dealing with the same thing, I feel a bit like I’m in it alone without a safety net.
With a better idea of my truer emotions, I have been seeking ways to channel and manage them. Writing about all of this has been pretty helpful today. I also recently made a spoof rant video about the virus and hysteria behind it, which I am considering posting on YouTube as another form of expression. (If you can’t fight it, make fun of it.) With YouTube in mind, however, I’ve been struggling with video editing and making art while I don’t feel totally motivated. I am distracted with my suspension and the worldly chaos I’m allowing to invade my brain space.
This past Sunday, though, I found an uplifting message I want to share. I was in Montrose visiting a friend who suggested walking to the bookstore after I said let’s go for a walk. We hit the clearance section, slowly perusing around it before making our way through games and music. After, I wanted to look at graphic novels for a new read since I’m nearing the end of The Walking Dead saga.
You know how sometimes you can feel an energy drawing you towards it? I could feel the section inviting me to look through it as I leisurely picked a handful of books, read the summaries and put them back. Some minutes later, a title caught my eye. It made me feel better. I pulled it and read the summary.
The book has absolutely nothing to do with the current state of affairs, but I think it’s the exact encouragement I needed to see, needed to be reminded of. In similar words, the thing I try to tell myself when I become distraught. The summary also led me to think of a friend I’d made at the La Tomatina festival last year who is navigating a sort of mid-life crisis like myself.
I bought the book.
I want this message to stick in my mind and yours, if you’re feeling like I am. I want this to remind you of everything else in your life that you have survived.
I hope you all remain sane and healthy until doors start opening again.
Hello there! I can’t believe nearly a full month has passed since my last post – oh, wait. Yes, I can…
I spent part of the month tossing around an idea and the
rest of the time implementing it. I
wasn’t too sure what to write about during the in-between. I suppose I didn’t feel like anything
significant enough was happening to compel me to write. Until now!
Someone expanded to YouTube. Indeed, and I think a lot of the foreseeable blog posts will be comprised of crafting videos and of my face. Like, my actual face speaking to you. So, that’s fun, right?! Stay tuned and por favor disfruta:
Ahhh, the time has arrived to tie up the last little bow on my Madrid adventure package. My Holga scans have returned to me just in time, too!
Toledo
This is going to be one of those posts that I personally seek from others when I’m trip planning because I like to have an idea of what shit costs where I’m going. I want to know things like, how much was that excursion, how much did you spend on public transport and how much was that museum? I especially like to know how much people spent on long trips vs short trips. Not only do longer trips showcase the trend of someone’s spending, but I also find those stories more enjoyable to read because those people find the freebies and get pretty creative when they’re on a budget.
Well, side note, I’m being a bit lazy about getting all the monies together by not going through receipts, particularly for my cash only expenses, but I want to get this post up before it loses relevancy. (It’s almost February already, you guys!) I’m going to trust that the recent research I’ve done through my bank statements and what I can remember about spending the cash I had on hand is noted to the best of my fiscally analytical abilities.
So, what is that number? **drumrolllllllll** Approximately $9,500 for 15 weeks abroad – or $2,375 per month. This certainly made a dent in my savings, but if you asked me would you do it all over again pretty much the same way? My answer is going to be a resounding, hell yeah!
Breakdown:
The missing $400 ish dollars from the table above is cash I had on hand that I’m pretty confident I spent mostly on food and drink, but since I can’t more accurately recall that spend allocation, I didn’t include it above.
I’m going to further explain the details of the sort of things I bought and my expenditure preferences. My hope is for you to find something helpful here for your own trip planning.
Airbnb’s and Hotels: $4,075.77 Rent costs are why things like live-in au-pairs and couchsurfing exist. The roofs over my head were my biggest expenses by far, accounting for approximately 45% of my entire spend abroad. It is definitely doable to bring that down closer to $400 a month in Madrid with enough advanced planning and without need for some of the luxuries that were must-haves for me. The uncompromising requirements for my Airbnb apartments were: a private bathroom, washer access, wifi, kitchen access and desired location. When we break down the Madrid rent further, though, it comes down to $34 a day. That’s pretty fucking sweet when I look at all of the amenities that came with it.
Restaurants, Bars and Groceries: $1,763.64 (+ maybe $400) I allotted $900 per month on food and spent waaaay under that. It is ridiculously cheap to eat and drink well in Madrid. I ate out for 1-2 meals every day, but splurged only a handful of times. Breakfast out was typically a muffin or tosta with a fancy coffee that set me back around $7. Lunch was most often slightly cheaper with one beer equaling half the cost of a fancy coffee and the need to order less food since a drink order is automatically served with a plate of olives, cheese, chips or sausages. I rarely had leftovers, so what I paid was perfectly priced for how much I ate. My quick and filling lunch on the go recommendations are the 3 euro calamari bocadillos that can be found near Plaza Mayor, almost anything from Takos Al Pastor and a fat-ass ice cream cone from almost any gelateria. My average grocery store haul was about $10 for a couple days’ worth of meals and snacks. Produce, eggs, soups, meats, certain cheeses and pre-made sushi and pizza prices were pretty similar to what you’d find in the states. Yogurt, bread, pastries, pre-made salads and sandwiches, deli meats and wine were gloriously cheap.
Leaving for Munich
Flights: $1,244.83 This was my third largest expense overall (and includes a super awesome $104 fee from Norwegian Air for being over my weight limit on the flight home). There wasn’t much I could do to save more money on my flights to and from Houston. I used the Norwegian savings trick which saved me about a hundred dollars, but the fact is it just doesn’t get much cheaper to fly overseas from the middle of the US. The European flights I purchased, however, as you may have noticed from the budget table, were incredible values. In fact, the best deal I snagged abroad was a $15.36 red eye flight to London. The thing that will help you most on airfare prices is the ability to be flexible with dates and times. Skyscanner is my go-to for price checking flights and I love their everywhere feature (that’s where the Ibiza trip came from). I also like Expedia because I actually have been able to take advantage of their occasional hotel/flight discounts (and I had a $50 credit I was able to use on my Ibiza hotel, score). The cheapest prices I’ve been able to find for hotels were actually direct from their websites.
Oktoberfest: $Too Much Yes, I wanted to discuss how astronomically more my trip to Munich was next to all of the other 2 night trips I took. Unfortunately, this is one of those things that can’t be avoided. Planning as much in advance will always help you find better rates for things, but Oktoberfest is an expensive time to visit Munich. Having said that, just fucking go anyway. It’s worth it.
Templo de Debod
Education: $757.87 Can’t put a price tag on that! I thought the Spanish classes were very reasonably priced at about $11 per hour for an 8-person classroom setting. I did my intensive courses at Inhispania and my nightly courses at LAE. I liked LAE more because of the pace and the more appropriate age of the classroom. However, Inhispania catered to the students better by offering weekly activities and excursions. The painting classes at Academia de Pintura DeCinti Villalón cost about $13 per hour and that did include the use of a few supplies.
Souvenirs for Myself: $360.09 Half of this expense was the tattoo. The rest was used on books and jewelry.
Miscellaneous: $292.19 This includes really random things like, renting a bike for $22, seeing a podiatrist (yep, that happened) for $40, and a seriously fabulous haircut for $33.
Transportation: $269.15 With the exception of England’s atrocious train fares, I feel like I spent very little on local transportation. This included trains, metro, the one Uber I had to take and out of city buses (that averaged $10 roundtrip, including places like Toledo and Cercedilla). The beautiful thing when you’re living near the city centre of Madrid is you can walk to just about everywhere. But for those times I was a bit tipsy, or I was actually travelling too far to walk, I used my metro card which cost $13.50 per 10 rides and included an unlimited number of free transfers as long as I didn’t exit to the street. I paid the airport surcharge about half a dozen times which added an additional 3 euros per trip. The best deal to get to the airport is to use Bus 200 from the Avenida de America stop. It’s the same price as a single trip metro ride and the first bus leaves for the airport at 5am – this was a godsend when I thought I would have to pay for taxis for those 6:30am flights I booked. If you find yourself in a similar predicament and can’t easily get to Avenida de America, then you can use the Cibeles airport shuttle (from Plaza de Cibeles) which runs all night long and costs 5 euros one way. Still cheaper than a cab. Although the metro lines are closed from 1:30am – 6am, the city is working on implementing a 24-hour service to start this year.
Matadero
Museums and Galleries: $45.80 I spent the least amount of money on museums, which is unbelievable to me. And then I remembered how many amazing free art and cultural things there are all over the city. La Casa Encendida, Retiro Park, Fundación Juan March, Andén 0, Museo Sorrolla (well, 3 euros is basically free), Tabacalera, Matadero, Museo del Romanticismo (free after 2pm on Saturdays or 3 euros which is still basically free), Museo ABC, Museo ICO, Casa Árabe and like, a bajillion more places.
Unaccounted Expenses: $87.91 I have no fucking idea what these credit card transactions were for. There wasn’t enough information in the descriptions to figure them out, but if I have to guess, they’re probably all food related.
Well, you guys, that about wraps it up. I wish some of you out there could have lived this experience with me, but I hope the Madrid chronicles were intriguing enough to invite you to plan your own trip there! Feel free to reach out to me through Instagram or Facebook with any follow up questions about anything! Til the next post!
Still sorting through that last Madrid post… Anyway! When will there ever be a better time than now to write about a new year outlook? Next year is too far away, smarty pants.
I officially started both of my new jobs this past week. I’m not allowed to say much about one, but what I can say is that it’s my first retail gig. None of the office jobs I applied to over the last few weeks got back to me for an interview. Honestly though, this job is exactly what I was hoping to get while I’m temporarily here in Houston. Oh yeah… surprise! I don’t plan on being in the city by year end. Temporary work for a temporary home that pays just well enough to cover my current expenses is plenty fine for now. The other job, because I did say jobs, doesn’t pay anything, but I think it’s going to teach me the most and bring me the most joy. I am volunteering one day a week to lead an art class with toddlers. I actually pictured wanting to try this exact kind of work when I had all that time abroad to think about myself and desires. I mean, I pictured teaching older children and getting paid for it, but I will not dismiss the synchronicities that led me to find this opportunity that is essentially what I thought about as a potential career shift. Besides, the more exposure I get to different jobs, the easier I will find what truly fits me. (Something I highly recommend doing in your 20’s, but later is, of course, better than never.)
The outlook of 2020 feels good, but I’m not positioned in a constant high of empowerment. Since I let go of my apartment last summer, I am staying in my old, childhood home with my folks and baby sis, which is a bit weird. If you’ve ever had to move back in with your folks, then you probably understand what I’m feeling. Besides the strangeness of living with my family as a 34-year-old woman (just had a birthday…), it’s weird living away from the neighborhoods and things I was surrounded by for the last 8 years. I can still get to those places and things, which is great, but it’s not even close to being the same.
A friend of mine asked me if it felt like a step backwards being there, but I completely disagree with that. Honestly, it feels like these life altering decisions I made have brought me back to a kind of ground zero where I probably need to learn some shit and/or release some shit and/or help someone else with some shit before moving to the next platform. Nothing speaks more to that thought than when I came back to the states last month. I spent my first night in Boston to break up the flight time and save a little money on airfare and awoke the next morning to a blanket of snow covering the metropolitan area. It was like, a beautiful, sparkling clean slate welcomed me back home (and I totally frolicked in it).
An old colleague of mine used to say, “this is just a stepping stone,” whenever I became distraught about something I couldn’t change at the office. From where I’m standing, this is a stepping stone on a path leading me somewhere else.
Every day is a chance for change and possibility, but sometimes we need a little encouragement. To kick off the new year, I decided to share a list of articles I found inspirational and supportive since my unravelling in 2018. I hope you, too, find a spark of light from the following:
I often jokingly (yet, seriously) invite people to join me on trips because my sharing an upcoming adventure is typically met with, “oh, wow’s,” and, “I wish I could go’s.” Pues, venga! Life is short and usually more fun with company.
So, guess who visited me abroad?! I planted a seed of interest when I gushed over my Spanish vacation in the spring, and it wasn’t long before my sister and her hubby were shopping for airline deals for a fall getaway. (Convinced my other sister to travel to The Netherlands with me last year.)
They weren’t able to get the time off until my last ten days abroad, but it filled my final week with activities and adventure when I was at a point of, this is almost over and I don’t know what the fuck to do now.
We spent one day walking all around the palace grounds, various plazas and the temple, finishing the afternoon at Casa Mingo with a bottle of cider.
We spent another in Toledo that didn’t give us the sunny skies we had hoped for, but we still walked all over and ticked off the things we wanted to do there like the mirador view and a visit to Mariano Zamorano.
We had a failed wine tour attempt in Navalcarnero, however, the trip was salvaged by the amazing hospitality at Bodegas Andrés Díaz and the cool tunnel system at Las Cuevas del Carnero.
We ate and drank like we had two stomachs and livers and spent afternoons walking off the calories around La Latina, Sol, Malasaña and Chueca. (We were in Chueca visiting my favorite ice cream shop, Labonata, and doing oddball things the day Greta Thunberg had a rally at Atocha.)
I showed them some of my favorite places and discoveries and gave them space to find their own. The week went by incredibly fast. The day their flight took them back to Texas was my last full one in the city.
Bailando en Tabacalera
Caganeres
Toledo
Plaza Mayor en Navidad
Espectáculo Flamenco
Vino Azul
I plan on wrapping up my Madrid chapter on Practically Foreign with one more post. These days I’m on the hunt for the next adventure (which primarily consists of looking for a cool-ass job that is coming together in little, synchronistic bits and making me feel pretty excited about 2020).
As previously mentioned, these next couple of posts are
catch-ups to what happened between Thanksgiving and my last night abroad. It was a lot of stuff crammed into my last 12
days! I didn’t have time to sit down and
write it all out.
Backtracking now: with only a month left in Madrid, I was running out of time to try to squeeze in one more big European excursion. I had 4 must see places noted before I left Houston that I hadn’t finished checking off: Buñol, Munich, Pompeii and Marrakech.
Oh, yes. The African continent spoke to me well before I arrived in Europe. The colors, the exotic cuisine and scents – I could see myself there smelling and tasting the flavors in the air with excited eyes taunted by shop windows. I was a click away – seriously, one little click – from booking Marrakech in October. But in that moment, my gut feeling pulled me away. The timing didn’t feel right, the planning wasn’t good, I didn’t want to take a camel ride in the desert with a bunch of strangers – I decided this will have to wait. The country had called my name, but the feeling wasn’t there anymore. It’s ok! Morocco will happen eventually. (Pinning it right next to seeing Lola Marsh live some day.)
So, it was me and Skyscanner trying to figure out one last cheap getaway. Paris, Porto and Milan were the frontrunners for cheapest flights. Milan was another very close booking. But I stopped myself and thought, Kat, you really want to go to Pompeii – quit fucking around and go there.
√ Check.
The weather was lovely and temperate with peek-a-boo sunshine as I waited at the Naples airport for the Alibus to take me into the city. The drop-off was an 8-minute walk from my bnb and my first impression of the city was… chaos. People were walking in front of cars and mopeds while those same vehicles maneuvered around them and sped off inches away from other people spilling into the streets. Some of the streets looked too seedy and dark to be safe passages. I was a little scared, to be honest.
My bnb host saw me first and yelled for me to cross the street when I glanced in his direction. He was incredibly sweet and fed me a cherry tart and a slice of coffee cake (his wife made) before showing me the room. I knew the bnb had a nice view from somewhere as many of the reviews noted, but I assumed it was from a communal space like a rooftop lounge. I couldn’t believe my eyes when he opened the door. I was 12 stories high with a private balcony facing Mount Vesuvius and the harbor. It was spectacular.
The host left me to settle in and I sat outside nibbling on treats watching clouds follow the wind. I had a short rest while my phone charged up and it wasn’t long before I was on the hunt for pizza. I did a quick search for best pizza around the city and found one just up the road with thousands of positive reviews.
It was only about a 30-minute wait in a much less chaotic street before they called my number. I found an empty seat in the back room at a table with some friendly people from Thailand who had spent the week in Sorrento and Rome. It was another 30 minutes before the pizza came out so I had plenty of time to absorb my surroundings to see what kind of charm this old pizzeria boasted.
Haha! Holy shit, this picture cracks me up. I swear I had no idea beforehand this place was that place! I actually saw Eat Pray Love for the first time just a few months ago while I was in Madrid. So, there I sat in one of the oldest, most famous pizzerias in the birth city of pizzas awaiting the finished product of a recipe that hasn’t changed since its inception in 1870. With Julia watching me.
Was it delicious? Hell yes! Was it my favorite pizza ever? Well, while it was very, very tasty, I definitely prefer a crispy crust and I’m not sure if it beat what I believe to be the best margherita pizza I’ve ever had (from Dough Pizzeria in San Antonio, TX of all places). If you think this Texan is biased, then please send your favorite pizza for judgement to the address at the end of this post.
Eating almost an entire pizza didn’t discourage me from squeezing
some gelato in my belly after walking around the Christmas market. I had 3 days to fit as much authentic Italian
food as I could stomach and I wasn’t wasting a minute!
I stumbled upon a card game on my walk back to the hotel and
lingered in the back of a small crowd of older gentlemen watching. One of the players noticed a pretty lady in
the back and invited me to sit at the table.
We chatted in brief intervals – he was very focused on the game. He was from Naples, but now lives in South
Africa for work. He then told me he wanted
to invite his son to come out and meet me.
Alright, I thought, maybe I should pray on finding love after consuming
my weight in pizza dough.
His son and I went to a bar down the road where we discussed our jobs and travels and *gag* politics. Lots of Europeans have been interested in my viewpoint on American politics and I’m slightly embarrassed (yet, simultaneously, uninterested to do anything about my ignorance on the topic) that they seem to know more than I do. It was a bit of a strange ending – a friend of his working the bar came to tell him some unfortunate news about another friend and he apologized for having to suddenly leave. But I also thought he said he was coming back, so I sat there for a while until I guessed he wasn’t. Hopefully, his friend is ok.
The next day I ate another yummy pastry courtesy of the host’s wife, a few cookies, toast and a coffee to wash it all down while I sat on the balcony blinded by the sun rising above Mount Vesuvius. My host tried to feed me freshly baked croissants on my way out for Pompeii, but I was too full to accept.
It was a short walk to the train and a cheap, comfortable ride to the Pompeii station with nice views of the volcano to the east and the bay to the west. I was a little concerned about the crowd gathering towards the ticket queue upon exiting the train. November is supposed to be a less popular time of year for Pompeii tourists, but it was a Saturday.
The queue, however, was quick and I was soon walking towards the entrance with my cash-only ticket. (Repeat: cash-only.) I didn’t really know what to expect beyond the park entrance platform. Images I’d seen online were mostly of statues, mummies and the same open courtyard facing the volcano.
There is so much more to be found in the enormous excavated city. I walked around with a few crowds of people for an hour until finally I was nearly alone heading north towards the Villa of the Mysteries. The less people, noise and camera flashes around me, the more I could sense what being there felt like. It was peaceful, but a heaviness surrounded me as I walked down the paths of stone and volcanic rock, bits of which undoubtedly were remnants of fallen buildings. I was especially pained by the mummies contorted in anguish. I marveled at what was still standing, so wonderfully preserved and, despite the heaviness, I could envision the life and glory of the city before the eruption.
Something I thought really interesting was the piping system that could be seen peaking through broken walls. I later found articles about the impressive plumbing systems Romans built and the theory of how lead poisoning may have aided in their downfall.
I met someone, when I was somewhere around the House of the Vettii, who was looking for the amphitheater. I was considering leaving soon, but having company sounded nice. We walked in and out of gardens, houses and the like along the way. We chatted about family and work. We finally found the theatre about a mile from where we met. It looked perfectly preserved like so many other things throughout the city. I didn’t know at the time that it’s today’s oldest surviving Roman amphitheater and the oldest known to be built from stone. I was ready to go after we finished walking around it, so we soon said our goodbyes. He wanted to stay a bit longer before his evening departure to Germany and I wanted to watch the sunset from my balcony.
It was a drastically different experience having someone with me to discuss the sights. I enjoyed the company, especially since I wouldn’t have seen the theatre without him. For a place like Pompeii, though, I favored the experience in solitude.
I watched the sun’s lingering rays vanish as the sky transitioned from blue to pink to darkness. It was a bit early for dinner, but all I had for lunch was a small muffin I stowed from breakfast. It felt like a pasta night. L’Antica made selecting pizza easy by offering only two choices. Cala la Pasta had 20 dishes. Some minutes later, I settled on gnocchi and it was another delicious (and filling) plate. I walked around a bit again before heading back to the bnb for the night. No room for gelato that time.
On my last day, I awoke before the sun peeked its bright rays from above the distant mountains. A fog hung low encircling the volcano’s base hiding away part of the city. I sat on the balcony with a cup of coffee and watched it slowly clear away. I couldn’t get enough of this view.
I had a late flight out and wanted to visit at least one museum before
leaving. Of course, I turned my attention
to the nearby contemporary art museum.
As luck would have it, they offered free entrance on the first Sunday of
every month. It was cool. I particularly liked Yeesookyung’s Moonlight
Crown exhibit.
My goal after was to eat at another popular pizza restaurant, but it was located in the thick of the Christmas market area. I found the restaurant swarmed by dozens of people standing in a semi-circle, presumably waiting to order. My anxiety couldn’t handle it so I walked far away from the area before searching for another restaurant. A lot of eateries were closed, but I found a well rated joint, that wasn’t crazy packed, where I got to try a pizza fritta. I had never had anything like it before and really liked the different flavor profile – and the crispy bits!
What other Italian things do I need to do, I thought to myself as I left the restaurant. I still had hours to go before my flight. Derp, coffee! All the coffee I had so far was from the bnb. I needed to experience a coffeeshop. I ordered a cappuccino that was another delicious find and hung out on the patio of this very tiny café where I watched people scurry about (and wished I had booked an earlier flight). I don’t know which is worse; waiting all day for a 7pm flight (plus an extra hour for the guaranteed Iberia Express delay) or barely sleeping the night before a 7am flight.
There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do and I was too full to eat or drink anymore. I walked across the street from the café to wait at a local bus stop that was way cheaper than the Alibus and droped off a mere 15-minute walk away from the airport. I was halfway there when a view opened to the south and I saw the city from a completely new and gorgeous perspective. I hopped off the bus and walked along the road trying to capture the amazing backdrop of Mount Vesuvius to the southeast and the city in the hills to the southwest. The partially covered sun hung low over the hills casting a golden tone across the staggered buildings below. I couldn’t have imagined a better ending.
I’m going a bit out of order with the events that have unfolded since Thanksgiving, but this is the energy I want to acknowledge right now. It’s my last night in Madrid. I’ve eaten the last of my food and am currently drinking the last of my wine and thinking about how I feel in this moment. I feel ready to leave, ready for what’s next. I feel a bit melancholy. And a bit anxious because airports and shit. I spent the day alone, but I think I needed that to really soak up the end of this experience without distraction. The weather was nice today so I walked around outside of the palace grounds and the Templo de Debod. I stopped at a restaurant on my way back to the apartment for one more Mahou Clasica de barril. I watched the sun shine its last rays over Dalieda de San Francisco. There are so many things here I am going to miss. When I started this journey, I was open to opportunities abroad for work. Open to love. Open to finding a home. I was seeking things I haven’t yet discovered. Soulful things. I hoped for a lot of these things to happen, but I realized kind of early on that Madrid isn’t… it. At least, not at this time in my life. Now, I’m ready to see where the next chapter leads.
To the city I fell in love with, to the people who enriched my time here, to the memories – salud.
Thanksgiving was a hodgepodge of emotions for me. I was missing my family and our traditional celebration and, akin to the last post’s theme, I was scared of spending the holiday alone. It was a ridiculous fear that sporadically loomed around me as I cooked for friends who said they were coming to dinner. But the rest of the time I felt eager to share my cooking and the holiday with people I had befriended here. I love cooking almost as much as I love eating.
I chose a simple dinner plan with a little Spanish fusion: mashed sweet potatoes with walnuts (porque aparentemente, en la tierra de españa, las pacanas no existen – a southern girl’s Thanksgiving nightmare), green beans with fried onions and a tapas style deli turkey, cheese and bread plate accompanied with homemade deviled eggs. It was very un-Spanish of me to leave out the jamón for tapas, but no one would have eaten the turkey if I hadn’t. One friend brought some cookies from the Monasterio del Corpus Christi and everyone one else brought Spanish booze.
A couple of friends asked me how Thanksgiving came to be and what exactly is celebrated. I told them bits of the cheery kid story I knew from school, but mentioned it leaves out some darker facts. I told them I cherish the holiday because it’s always such a great celebration with loved ones I don’t regularly see. I didn’t get to see those relatives this year, but this Thanksgiving turned out to be particularly special for a lot of other reasons.
I felt so much gratitude as I looked around the table at these people I hadn’t known for very long -and who were all just meeting each other for the first time- come together to share the unfamiliar occasion with me. Shortly after dinner, my sister Skyped in as a response to the text I forgot I sent her when one friend requested to meet my family. It was such a beautiful thing to see them and sort of combine our celebrations for a moment. Stories and jokes spoken in a mix of Spanish, German and English continued through the evening while my friends nibbled on cookies and worked through a second bottle of wine.
The parting was a little emotional because I knew it was likely the last time I’d see them in the flesh. Luckily, things like Skype make it seem like we aren’t so far away.
Travelling solo can be hard, but with the hardest days come the best ones, too. This was one of the best.
This post was difficult to write because I had to really think about how to articulate my feelings into words and I had to take a lot of pauses after becoming emotional. It’s uncomfortable for me to discuss negative feelings. But this is what real life is – a myriad of emotions. The purpose of my blog isn’t solely to present happiness. It’s about a journey, discovery, interests and it would be unauthentic of me to exclude certain sentiments of my experiences.
Lately, I’ve been feeling extremely exhausted and having more down in the dumps sort of days. I’m burned out from being here and I nearly want to compare it to the last 12 months of living in Houston where I felt unsatisfied with too many aspects of my daily life.
First and foremost, the shittiest thing I am unhappy to report is that I have found myself in a similar predicament as back in Houston that I’m rather tired of: doing things alone. I am tired of eating by myself. I am tired of visiting places by myself. I am tired of making plans with myself. (Where is the Spanish boyfriend I so desperately need?! …I am definitely my father’s daughter trying to interject jokes into serious conversations.)
Alone time is valuable when it’s a choice, not when it isn’t.
The problem isn’t that I haven’t made any meaningful connections this whole time. It’s more like, for every meal I share with someone, I have 20 more by myself. And I can count on both hands how many times someone was able to accompany me or invited me to accompany them to do something that didn’t revolve around late night drinking. My needs for sharing activities, socializing and empathy are not being met here.
Part of that may have to do with the language. There isn’t a fault, it is what it is, but it isn’t from a lack of trying. 3 months of studying the same subject daily e v e r y d a y and really trying to apply it e v e r y d a y has become daunting. It has been more difficult than I expected for me to pick up the language, to hear it and express myself (although, I may be doing better than I think) and I feel the stress and frustration of it consuming me sometimes. So much so, that I dragged myself to my first ever Meetup event a couple of weeks ago solely for conversing in English. Yes, I willingly went to a social function full of strangers to mingle (ew) because I miss feeling understood when I speak to people. It was surprisingly fun and I even met a fellow Texan. And, as you may have guessed, that’s where I also met the Englishman with the unquenchable thirst.
Because I thought the event successful, I went back last weekend. I talked to a couple of people I met at the first one and then some new ones. But there’s a tolerance level for things I don’t like to do and it maxed out after an hour at the second event. I don’t like mingling and realized how little I wanted to keep reintroducing myself or talk about why I’m here. Excuse me, I know we don’t know each other, but can’t we skip all this bullshit and go see a movie?
None of this helps the fact that I miss tangible things that are not here with me (like my sweet cat). But despite my feeling somewhat stifled and stagnant, I am trying to make the most of the time I have left here. I took up some oil painting classes, got a tattoo, I am making one last European excursion that was on my list next to Buñol and Munich, and I am very much looking forward to a visit from my sister (and I guess my brother-in-law, too).
