Finally, about 10 weeks into my time here at Germany, my roots sparkle a little closer to their Loreal promised “sunkissed” hue. Isn’t it a bit revealing that the term highlight, involves changing the root of one’s hair? I go through these seasons where I balk at the notion of anything “unnatural” (situps!) but then again, realize that modern living often hails overcoming the natural disposition in pursuit of something “better” or things that make us at least perceive that we feel better.
But feeling better doesn’t equate being better. What Feels Right isn’t always Right…(right?)
Enough philosophy. I have this tradition of making guests of a trop with me name something at dinner that was the highlight of their day. Some people do find it annoying, but I always find it a bit revealing. Wait a few weeks, and you’ll see the highlights of my year (which, looking back, always contains low lights as well.
Spain, however, mostly contained highlights. Sure, there was an hour in the car where I thought I would hurl. And yep, there was 30 minutes of that ordained, I am lost in the third largest city in the world towing around 4 friends looking for the hotel, the street, my passport, my money.
But mostly, “claro.” Besides the flamenco, these are my blue moments, the experiences of our lives that resist the tugging of time and become spun into the fabric of our stories. When our perceptions soften a bit and the vulnerability of our spirits allows us to be marked.
There was this moment, when exploring the castle of Consegura each independently, that this overwhelming sense of connection swept in my bones. No other visitors walked the ruins on this Thanksgiving morning. I like to adventure these locations by myself or I lose a sense of awe-ness. Looking out one of the windows, I heard Juliette’s healing laugh skip like Tigger down the 1000 year old ruins. Serenity.
I loved my history tour of Madrid as well. Once a geek, always a geek, and since I don’t watch the history channel or read biographys at this time of my life, the hands on, did you know that Madrid has two original meanings, one of Moorish (N. African) and one of Christian decent, really jived with me. In the ground of Madrid, you need to look down. Some of the ruins from the Roman pre 1000 AD are housed there, and you need to look up, because the walls tell stories….not to mention the colors and art housed in the Musuem Thysseus, where I got to salivate over Gaugan, Kirchner, Kandinsky.
And oh yeah, I bribed the head hostess (cutey- too!) to get our party a table our last night at the oldest restaraunt in the world. An achievement that inspired a sense of pride not far off from graduating from Harvard. Seriously! Sopping up my squid baked in it’s own ink (sorry my camera died) and sucking on 4 week old cured black iberian suckling pig indulgently, wantoningly…knowing that Goya waited tables here, and Hemingway drank Sangria. The Spanaird even showed the kitchen to us….um, okay? HIGH is not the right word for it. Child-like Wonder!
Highlights…they help me float like a baloon, reveling in the fact that no matter what age, or what season we find ourselves in, those blue moments await seziure. Enjoy the pics! (Olive Oil! Tapas! Yemen!)