Halloween: A Hoot of a Tale

Posted on January 24, 2021 by heykat

It seems as though Halloween was a very long time ago, doesn’t it?
(12 weeks?!)
Notorious events in the world have taken place and so many things in my own life have changed since then. The most welcoming of which was ringing in a new year and it’s something I’d like to toast to you all before I jump into this post.

We did it, you guys! We made it out of 2020!

Of course, the slate wasn’t wiped clean coming into 2021, but any chance for something new feels promising and I think we are all very past due for something promising.

I wish you all the best this year and always. <3

Although so much time has passed since that most beloved night of mischief, the days revolving around my Halloween night are a grand tale that couldn’t be passed over. I wish I had gotten around to posting this sooner, but as many of us are already privy to, it’s hard finding time for extracurricular activities when there’s a full-time job to manage. Speaking of which, I might like to write more about how that’s going for me (in the next post) since re-entering the working world last July.

Without further ado, I present a spooktacular story that occurred many moons ago.

I spent the weekend before Halloween face-painting in front of the camera with the hope of uploading a few different how-to faces on YouTube. I managed to upload 1 of the 3 attempted. I elected to post this video solely because it was well executed and not as common as a mermaid face (which I didn’t do as well as other videos already online).
I painted a nifty barn owl face that I wore to work some years ago.
That following Monday, my coworker arrived to work showing off a brand-new owl purse her Nana had gotten her. She proclaimed how much she loved owls and I wondered if I had been oblivious to that knowledge for the past 2 months I worked with her. I didn’t dwell much on the double dose of owl, however, until a couple of days later when a friend casually asked about my Halloween plans and then suggested I dress up as an owl.

Surely, he saw the video I just uploaded.

He hadn’t, he said.
I thought that really, really weird, but dismissed the possibility of a synchronicity as a jest. He had to have seen the video and was totally screwing with me, no?

Well, the next day I went out with my good friend and her husband to celebrate her birthday. Courtesy of the restaurant, our meal wrapped up with a sweet treat to share, but we all agreed that more was to be had after that teasing slice of cake. I suggested a bakery up the road I’d been meaning to try and discovered they had not been either.
We popped over and had a look around, goggling over which delectable sweets to choose. I was eyeing a shelf of cookies when my friend mentioned some cute mugs for sale. I turned towards her and saw owl mugs.
Like, carved-in-the-shape-and-painted-like-an-owl mugs (available in 2 colors).

Ok.

My heart skipped and my shoulders and insides tensed as I kind of felt a bit frightened in that moment. I stared at the mugs wondering what the fuck as I cooed at her, oooh, yeah, they’re cute. I didn’t say anything more as we moved on to order a sampler of miniature pies and tarts. I transferred my focus back to the evening, tucking away what I perceived to be something auspicious occurring around me.

The crazy owl business, however, was long forgotten by the next day; Halloween preparations for my eventful evening took immediate precedence. I had scored a ticket to an improv comedy show and was invited to a small get-together for afterwards (of which I was particularly ecstatic for because parties were forbidden in the year of 2020).

I had costume ideas for the evening but questioned how much effort to put into them when half of my face had to be covered at the comedy show. Last minute, I decidedly threw together a kind of pop art skeleton look to accompany my glow-in-the-dark skeletal shirt.

The outdoor event was the perfect setup for a spooky show where organizers had grouped seats of 2 and 4 dotted around their dimly lit parking lot and filled each chair with candy and glow sticks. To the backs of the audience, a full moon further set the stage for a night of tricks, treats and laughs. To the left was a beer tent and a merchandise table. I helped myself to a drink and took a seat dead front of the audience.
I love when people are afraid to be in the front because I always get a great seat.

The hour not only was a much needed comic relief, but I felt extremely honored when the host announced that it was their first night open since doors had closed to the public in March.
I’ve missed live improv comedy.
I left feeling light-hearted and in reminisce of Station Theatre, a comedy club I frequented before leaving behind my Houston Heights apartment and venturing off for Spain.

I was last to arrive at the Halloween party, but no one minded as everyone was full and merry from an evening feast of grilled meats and liquor. I helped myself to a plate and a drink and joined the outdoor festivities around a fire pit.
It was late for a typical evening out for me, but I remained alert with excitement, not retreating back home until half past midnight. I proceeded to stay up for another hour (or 2) to watch an episode of The Queen’s Gambit. Daylight savings was sparing me an extra hour for a frightfully good night and I was glad to stay up late and still get up early.

The following morning, a faint and seemingly distant alarm stirred my senses from a dead-ass sleep. It’s faintness penetrated my dream until I groggily awakened to consciousness. This was not the sound of my phone alarm.
I sat up in bed to a dark apartment and pulled out my earplugs. The beeping continued. The sound was close, but it wasn’t coming from within my home. Fully alert, I cautiously approached the front door and tapped the knob to check for heat before slowly opening it. I didn’t see smoke nor smelled it, but the fire alarms in the hallway were ringing and blinking and I watched my neighbors sleepily vacate their apartments.

I closed my door. I didn’t feel immediate danger, but just as well hurried to grab my phone, a jacket, shoes and keys. Any actual signs of a fire and I would have snatched up my cat, stuffed her in the nearest bag and run out without a thought for anything else. Under these less threatening circumstances, I felt her safer and less traumatized left untouched on my bed.

Upon leaving, my neighbor across from me and I opened and closed our doors in unison. We smiled, said hello and followed everyone else down the hall to the main stairs.

It was dark outside.
We stood safely away from the building with our fellow residents awaiting the fire department before I checked the time on my phone. Ahh, the best Halloween-daylight savings prank ever; I had been asleep for all of 4 hours.

My neighbor and I chatted through the wait for firefighters, through their inspection and the ok to re-enter the building.
We got on so well that we exchanged phone numbers.
I went back to bed and managed to kind of sleep another couple of hours. I later awoke to sunlight, feeling tired and lazy, yet amused with the eventful holiday weekend.

My neighbor and I met up a few days later at a brewery. In the wee hours of the past Sunday morning, we had discovered we were both from Houston and chatted a little about things to do in Dallas. During the more relaxed meetup at the brewery, we covered backgrounds, careers, likes and education. It turns out that my neighbor is a graduate from Rice University.
For those of you who don’t know, the mascot for Rice University is:

An owl.

You may be thinking, oh, woooow – that’s not very strange, Kat.
Maybe, but let me just sum up the whole spookiness of my Halloween story real quick; the fire alarm in my apartment building went off when I met this person, who I had lived across from for 2 months, and there were owl omens attached to myself and 3 other people I know in the week leading up to that moment.

There’s also something else that I hadn’t realized until after our meetup, which I’ll get into shortly.

We spoke for a while over a beer and a bite before she had to leave for an evening work meeting. The company and conversation were nice, but oddly, the original vibe we had shared was off. She wasn’t the same kind of bubbly and friendly as when we met and I felt ridiculously nervous, which she probably sensed as I’m easy to read.
As for myself, I think it was jitters over the potential of making a friend and wanting to make a good impression. For her, maybe she had work on the brain since she had to be back at it after only a couple hours’ break. Overall I had a nice time, but… I couldn’t tell if she did.

We parted without plans to meetup again, but figured I could invite her to join me for coffee sometime soon.

Through the weekend and following week, I must have run into her 4 times on my way in and out of the apartment building. And with every next time I saw her, I felt strongly that maybe I should invite her to do something. There was one instance I saw her cleaning out her car as I was on my way to work and the way she looked up and smiled reminded me of something. I later recalled the familiarity of how her face looked in that moment.

I think it was right after I had officially moved all of my things up here – so I had been at the apartment for almost a week – when I went outside to the parking lot to have a cigarette and de-stress. I noticed someone crossing the lot (like, 20 feet away from me) and I decided to say hello to this person as she neared the stair entry. She looked at me and smiled.

I am almost certain it was my neighbor. It’s the same face I saw when she looked up from her car.
It’s funny to me when I pieced this together and wondered about the how’s and why’s of people being inexplicably drawn to others.

After running into her so many times and feeling that pull to invite her somewhere, I finally extended a last-minute invite for coffee a few days later.

She couldn’t make it.

A lot of time has passed and I haven’t seen my neighbor since then. I have kept a little in touch with how’s-it-going texts over the holidays, yet I no longer feel that strong draw towards her.
Though, I am still oh-so curious to find out more.

I feel like that 2-week period was significant and I’d like to know why.
Perhaps the significance had passed after that window or perhaps we never miss the significance of encounters. Maybe they are only circumstantially delayed.

I think finally finishing this blog entry has fueled that curiosity a little bit more and I will be reaching out to her again soon. I wish sometimes the universe would just tell me what the fuck, ya know? Instead of feeling like I’m on a blind treasure hunt.
I will be sure to keep you posted if I uncover the booty of my mysterious owl synchronicities!

Flying the Coop Part II

Posted on August 10, 2020August 15, 2020 by heykat

It’s been almost a year since I launched this site and the very first post, Flying the Coop. Cheers to the recent payment I made to keep it running for a second year!

Some of you know that I’ve been job hunting for that dream career move since my return from Spain. I don’t think I found it, but what I did find is a job that will give me money.

And sometimes, when a pandemic has befallen the world, that’s good enough.

Can’t be too choosey when you’re unemployed.
Besides, I really fucking hated not working all the while knowing how capable I am to do all of the things I applied for over the past 6 months.

Perhaps I have too much self-worth tied into “having a job,” but who honestly believes they’re living their best life when they can’t afford to support themselves?

And, of course, now that I have been training for all of 10 days, I’ve hit that vicious cycle of – not regret – but questioning the decision to accept the job. Partly because of the aforementioned dream pause and partly because, you know, life is hilarious, ironic and a bitch all at once.

Yesterday marked my third interview in 4 weeks. After months of nothing. And 2 of those jobs are more of what I’d like to transition towards.

The thing is, an interview is not a guarantee. So I feel like I made the right call in my decision to accept what was offered first.

It was a rather dramatic decision-making process, actually. Like, I literally cried when I saw the offer.
I agree that’s a bit of an insane reaction, but let me explain all the feels in that moment.

I thought this job might make me feel just like how I did last year before I quit oil & gas. I was worried about making a bad choice for giving in to something I wasn’t excited about. I was facing the actual reality of leaving Houston.
All of this was frightening!

Though once the anxiety abated, I was able to rationalize what I truly wanted more than anything: to move forward. Which wasn’t possible without some sense of job security.
So I took the job knowing that it isn’t the destination, but another stone on the path.

The proverb, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day,’ still makes so much sense in modern times.

And with that, I’d like to say forgive me for being so absent these past 2 months. Before the job came along, I was painting A LOT and didn’t have the itch to write.
What can I say? I go where the creativity flows and it was flowing in watercolors.

(I tried to insert more pictures of my art here, however, the hotel’s internet service isn’t up to the task. Stayed tuned for more on hotel living in the next post.)

In 9-12 days, depending on move difficulties, I will be making the transition to my new home some 280 miles north of Houston.

It’s a place where a Supernatural hero was born, a place where the annual state fair draws in over 2 million people, and a place where there are just as many terrible drivers as every other large city in the United States.

Watch out, Dallas, I’m coming for ya.

How Much was 15 Weeks in Madrid and Holga Pictures

Posted on January 31, 2020February 6, 2020 by heykat

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

Sibiling Abroad

Posted on December 29, 2019 by heykat

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.

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).

To the Last Night in Madrid

Posted on December 9, 2019December 9, 2019 by heykat

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.

A Spanish Thanksgiving

Posted on December 4, 2019 by heykat

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.

Ails of a Solo Traveler

Posted on November 21, 2019November 22, 2019 by heykat

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).

Drinking with an Englishman in La Latina

Posted on November 15, 2019 by heykat

Don’t do it. He’ll drink you under the bar.
I spent the other day nursing a terrible hangover after a night out with my new acquaintance. How we met will be revealed in the next entry which is currently in progress. I wanted to sneak in these latest shenanigans because they amuse me.
I don’t usually drink in excess, so una resaca is a rarity for me. Yet I still feel like I have had a handful too many in this lifetime. I’m ranking this one as my third worst and I graded it based on longevity, vomiting and memory loss.

The Englishman and I were at bar number 2 when I realized I was quite lit. I made all the usual whoopsies such as mixing beer and wine, not eating beforehand and not drinking any water at all. However, I think the biggest whoops was drinking with an Englishman with an unquenchable thirst for beer. I could not match him, though, he sure made me try. Eventually, I needed food. Bar number 2 had some burger options and he let me pick the Khaleesi for us to share. I truly do not know if I chose it because I’m funny or if it really sounded like the best burger or if reading is hard when you’re drunk.
About this time is where the recollection of the evening kind of blurs together.

So, I remember a lot of talking, we definitely weren’t sitting in silence. Vaguely recall discussing music, but that’s about it. I remember leaving bar number 2, but I don’t remember walking to bar number 3. I do remember making a mess with a beer at bar number 3 and attempting to mop it up with those little bar napkins. I do not know if it was my beer. I do not remember drinking anymore. I remember leaving bar number 3 and arriving at my bnb, but not the time between the two destinations. I’m glad he insisted walking with me because I just reread my last sentence. Also, having an escort ensured I didn’t trip over a bus stop or something equally ridiculous. I generally have a good sense of direction, but bad feet.
I remember we said our goodbyes and I walked through the lobby to the elevator. I do not remember getting on the elevator or walking into the apartment. The next memory picks up with me brushing my teeth. I awoke the next morning with a pounding headache when questions started racing through my inebriated brain.

So, in my opinion, this is all leading to the bestest parts. There is only one other time in my life when I blacked out from drinking and, funny enough, I remember telling some of that story to my new acquaintance. I am very sad I have no real memory of it other than what my friends recounted because it’s fucking hilarious.
Obviously, no one else was here to tell me what happened when I got back to the apartment, but I managed to piece it together. And I can just see all of you on the edge of your seats wondering what sort of crazy occurred.

The truth is absolutely nothing.
And it is a marked compliment to my character compared to 18-year-old blackout drunk me accidentally pissing on my friend’s clothes.

I laid in bed groggily trying to recount things like if the door was locked or where was my purse or how am I wearing pajamas. I finally got up and used the bathroom and checked that the door was locked. I saw my purse and keys on a nearby table. I went back to sleep. I awoke a short time later to shower and vomit. I laid back in bed. After my second round of purging, I felt the tiniest measurement possible of better and pieced together what I had done.
I was a goddamn adult.
I had neatly placed my boots with my other shoes, my coat over a rack. I left my dirty clothes with the rest of my laundry and pulled my pajamas from the closet without leaving any sort of mess. I took out my contact lenses and correctly placed them in the case. I undid my hair and left the pins neatly on a table. I set my phone alarm to wake me up at 10:30 so it didn’t go off at the usual time of 8:30. I cleaned off the bed that had random things on it (since just hours before I moved from Prosperidad to La Latina and was unpacking) and neatly placed them all elsewhere. I retrieved my earplugs from my purse and correctly fit them in my ears. I did all the things I usually do before bed – perhaps even better – without injuring myself or breaking anything.
I almost can’t believe it either. I wondered how it was possible to function so phenomenally when I know how stupid people get from drinking and found this enlightening article.

I later picked up my phone to thank my English acquaintance for the booze and to tell him about how terrible I felt. I found something odd but smiled at myself as I read. I had sent him messages throughout the evening that I do not remember sending.
I dug deep in my brain while trying to recover from the hangover and sort of recalled we listened to songs on my phone at some point and he asked me to send him the YouTube links. I also found a glimpse of a memory talking about tacos, but I don’t remember if I was recommending them or requesting them. Por favor disfruta:

A Spanish Halloween

Posted on November 5, 2019 by heykat

I want to give you the long history of the origin of Halloween and how it has transformed into the modern-day celebration of the 21^st century, but there’s a reason I am not a history teacher. Luckily, the History Channel can help if you want to know more about the evolution of the tradition.

I loved Halloween as a kid for lots of reasons: creepy shit, candy, witches, princesses, superheroes. It was the only time of the year when I could wear mom’s makeup and not get in trouble. I was allowed to eat almost as much candy as I could stomach. I could try to scare the bejesus out of people without reprimand.

The holiday became one of my favorite days to celebrate at work when I realized my employer didn’t care about a little dress-up. This is the first year in several I didn’t have a place to go and show-off my creativity and Madrid isn’t exactly hip to the holiday. My Spanish teacher nor my bnb host’s son knew of any special Halloween things happening, so I took my search to FB. I found a party event near my apartment, and discovered it was for children. Only. I might have been slightly embarrassed as I didn’t have a child, but no one could see my real face, so, eh, I didn’t feel that weird. I left the party and walked around the ritzy barrio de Salamanca in hopes to frighten the affluent shoppers. Sadly, I don’t think anyone was scared, but I had a good time being silly. I met a friend for drinks later in the evening.

While I was trying to come up with a Halloween costume, I thought to myself, what is actually scary. I looked up some real-life crazies to get ideas and suddenly, I pictured a creepy clown saying, aren’t we fucking funny? And I knew – he’s the one. I actually wasn’t aware that Sid Haig had recently passed which made the costume idea kind of weird yet even more Halloween appropriate.

Well, you are probably wondering how all of this sexy came together and I’m going to tell you.
I planned on using only the watercolor paints I brought with me (which I think are non-toxic) to paint my face. The trial using them went well enough, but I worried about the application directly on my skin. I found a costume store about a mile walk from my apartment where I picked up some liquid white face paint to use as a base and a red bow tie to try to complete the Captain Spaulding look. I didn’t like the beards the shop offered and they were more than I wanted to spend. I looked up some tutorials on homemade beards and read something about cotton. I didn’t watch the tutorial. I just knew right away the cotton idea sounded good. The tutorial I did follow was for a homemade glue paste of flour, water and salt. I wanted to buy eyelash glue as I’ve had success with that in the past for things besides eyelashes, but like the beards, it was more than I was willing to spend. The makeup store I stopped at for the eyelash glue and cotton didn’t have cotton, but everything worked out fine. I wound up walking in the wrong direction on my way back to the apartment (trick) and came across a pharmacy with cotton for less than a euro (or treat). I spent €5.79 for white face paint, a bag of cotton and a red bow tie.

I used a mix of black watercolor paint, charcoal pencil and black eye makeup to color the cotton as best I could. These are all things I had stowed away in my luggage. I made my glue paste using the no cook recipe from this site. I lessened the amount considerably and eyeballed the ingredient measurements. I read their note about how they didn’t know which recipe might be safe for skin, so I went for the one I could make with what I had, didn’t require cooking, and wasn’t noted as very, very strong as my ultimate goal wasn’t to have a permanent beard.

This shit held up really well. So well, in fact, that my attempts to smile, laugh or simply open my mouth to yawn were extremely restricted. Not a flexible glue, FYI. At the end of the night, everything came off fine with some soap, a little body scrub and warm water. If you try this recipe for yourself, then use sparingly when applying and lots of warm water when trying to remove it and please don’t accidentally rip off your eyebrows.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Lewes, Alfriston and Brighton

Posted on October 27, 2019 by heykat

About 30 hours after returning from Ibiza, I was on a plane to England.
Because I’m crazy.
“I thought you hated London,” my mom said after I told her I’d landed safely. I really don’t like to use the word hate. It’s such an ugly word. I prefer to describe my first visit to London with a reluctant, I… didn’t love it. So, how did I find myself flying back to Gatwick so soon?

I visited England and Spain for the first time this past May. My 3-week vacation started in London because it was cheaper to fly there from the states than to Girona and I thought, what the hell, I want to see Big Ben and shit. For any of you other hopefuls anticipating to see the clock tower (or hear it chime), you might want to wait until 2020 when repairs are supposed to end and it will be unveiled to the world again. But fear not if you’ve already booked that ticket, because London does have a lot more going for it like, rich history and culture, free museums, a queen, etcetera and so forth. Just keep in mind that your Oyster Card doesn’t work for the train to Stansted (even if it scans and looks like it does – you better ask someone where to buy that paper train ticket or cough up 5 times the cost in fees – trust me).

ANYWAY, I met some great people between London and Spain with whom I’ve kept in touch one way or another. Travelling solo is an amazing way to meet people if you’re open to it. What’s crazy to me is in all the time I spent last year hoping to cultivate a new friendship by trying new things and regularly visiting places I adored in my home city, I instead found someone half-way around the world at a café in a city in which neither of us lived. My thought process has left me to conclude that if I had made the connection I was looking for in Houston, then I might still be there unwilling to budge and you all wouldn’t have this wonderful blog to follow.

My new acquaintance resonated with my situation and planning to live abroad. We’d kept in touch via e-mail and her encouraging words helped make the whole thing a little less scary. We were hoping to meet again in Madrid, but it didn’t work out that way. So, I was happily surprised when she extended an invitation to visit her in Alfriston. Girl, let me get on this price checking stat! I found a decently priced roundtrip flight and booked it. Ibiza was booked later and at the time I was more concerned with cheap than sleep.

She planned the meetup and places to visit during my stay and I was happy to not have to think about it. I love planning, but I’ve been doing so much of it I think I’ve exhausted myself. My only goals were to relax and not take the wrong train. Did you know trains in England split, by the way? Ha, yep. Not anything I would have thought to ask, so a huge shout-out to the woman from the station who informed me to sit in the rear.

I don’t quite recall how it started, but I wound up getting a history lesson from two other customers at the café in Lewes while waiting for my friend. Thomas Paine, author of Common Sense, apparently, was a bit of a troublemaker around town before he made his way to America. Virginia Woolf took her last breath in Lewes before finally succumbing to the darkest depths of depression. Queen Anne of Cleves received a home there through her annulment with King Henry VIII, but ultimately, she never visited the property. And lastly, Guy Fawkes Night (remember, remember, the fifth of November) brings spectators and participants from around the country to the annual bonfire celebration in Lewes. The women sharing these stories told them in so much detail while I shamefully sat there recounting to myself what little American history I knew. My friend didn’t take long to arrive and whisked me back to the present.

It was so good to see her again in the flesh. We took a quick tour around Lewes, had lunch and headed to Alfriston to enjoy the rest of the evening comfy cozy with a fire, cuddling doggies and a homecooked dinner.
The next day was spent gallivanting around Brighton. The weather held up just enough for us to enjoy pockets of sunshine as we popped in and out of shops and cafes. We walked out over the English Channel on Brighton Palace Pier where violent winds sent waves crashing over each other and carried mist across my face. Ten-year-old Kat would have liked to stand in the splash zones for the full effect, but grown up Kat worried about getting wet in the cold and healthcare costs without insurance.
We picked up some goods for dinner at M&S and took in another early evening in Alfriston which I rather liked, and don’t think I told her how sexy it was she didn’t want to be out until fucking midnight like everyone does here.

The next morning we dined on tea and toast and I had my first proper scone with clotted cream and jam. Isn’t this presentation adorable?!
We spent the time I had left in England walking around her neighborhood. Immediately, I found 2 very old music books at the local bookstore I decided to walk away from to fully consider the decision of flying with that extra weight. We then followed a path down by the Cuckmere River where it was slightly overflowing from the previous evening’s rain and admired the cascading water pooling near the trail and the lush hills in the distance. Our leisurely stroll took us to a trendy resale shop where she bought a dress that looked like it was made for her. Then back to the bookstore where I bought the books I didn’t need.