On the eve of Carnaval
With so much to catch up on, it makes no sense to start where I left off, so I'll just start with the present. I'm laying on my bed, full after eating a meal cooked by my señora (host mother, I guess you could call her), in Barcelona. Just got back from a day of classes (today I had Spanish grammar and modern art history) and a couple of drinks with Sarah afterward. Our art history teacher is so boring, we both thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the end of class with a few beers. I'm still buzzing a little from the who-knows-what that was in that "Bali Hai" drink at the Polynesian bar. We sat around talking about this and that -- our friend Allison scandalously taking a shower with her host brother, a car accident she had seen the other day, the accident we both saw that one night we were out for 12 hours straight, her affinity for tatoos and rings, boys she thought were cute, boys I thought were cute, how I should go about approaching someone in particular I have my eye on, why José hasn't called me back, about the boy I was seeing back at home -- and I couldn't help but think that only a few months ago I would never have been as comfortable as I was talking about being gay, as comfortable as I am with being myself.
"Did that guy just pick up a used cigarette and start smoking it?" I guess there was a little something in my intonation that set her off, but Sarah's been laughing at that ever since Sunday.
"You looked like such a ladrón just then."
"I guess people generally look better in the dark."
"Dammit I guess we are that superficial after all."
"What did it look like?"
Tonight is the last night of Carnaval, and I'm heading to Sitges, a beach town nearby synonymous with Carnaval, with Arturo and Joey in an hour or so to take part in the festivities. I'm supposed to meet up with Steve and his friends/flatmates at some point in the evening too. Went to the costume shop in between classes and bought a cheap mask and bake mustasche for the occasion. It seems like ever since I got here, save maybe the first couple of days of transition and missing home, that "taking part in the festivities" is all I've been doing. There have been a lot of late nights out, a lot of fun. Is it the soul-searching, life-defining experience that I set out to find? Maybe not so far, but I can't see how life can feel the same after I return to reality of life in the states, of finding a job, of applying to medical school. Life in Spain is different, it's challenging, it's exciting and new.
And yet I get emails from Tricia and Vicki telling me that its not the same without me there, and Huan tells me he misses me, and Leo tells me he bought a calling card and tried to stay up in order to call me at a reasonable hour given the time change, and I sit back to appreciate what a great life I left behind and how so much has changed in so little time. How much time did I waste being miserable when all I had to do was accept the truth? I'm remembering an entry I made -- I guess it was the beginning of the summer -- about being the shivering little boy at the top of the high dive. How times change. Splash, splash away.
"Did that guy just pick up a used cigarette and start smoking it?" I guess there was a little something in my intonation that set her off, but Sarah's been laughing at that ever since Sunday.
"You looked like such a ladrón just then."
"I guess people generally look better in the dark."
"Dammit I guess we are that superficial after all."
"What did it look like?"
Tonight is the last night of Carnaval, and I'm heading to Sitges, a beach town nearby synonymous with Carnaval, with Arturo and Joey in an hour or so to take part in the festivities. I'm supposed to meet up with Steve and his friends/flatmates at some point in the evening too. Went to the costume shop in between classes and bought a cheap mask and bake mustasche for the occasion. It seems like ever since I got here, save maybe the first couple of days of transition and missing home, that "taking part in the festivities" is all I've been doing. There have been a lot of late nights out, a lot of fun. Is it the soul-searching, life-defining experience that I set out to find? Maybe not so far, but I can't see how life can feel the same after I return to reality of life in the states, of finding a job, of applying to medical school. Life in Spain is different, it's challenging, it's exciting and new.
And yet I get emails from Tricia and Vicki telling me that its not the same without me there, and Huan tells me he misses me, and Leo tells me he bought a calling card and tried to stay up in order to call me at a reasonable hour given the time change, and I sit back to appreciate what a great life I left behind and how so much has changed in so little time. How much time did I waste being miserable when all I had to do was accept the truth? I'm remembering an entry I made -- I guess it was the beginning of the summer -- about being the shivering little boy at the top of the high dive. How times change. Splash, splash away.