lately it occurs to me...
what a long, strange trip it's been.
back to routine after two weeks in the green and gold and deep red of spain. two weeks, witness to architecture and art, gin and tonics in plaza cafes and tiny winding streets, olive groves and wheat fields like cordouroy and miles of sunflowers. i practiced my spanish. i practiced my patience. i practiced the art of self-containment, whipped stick-shift around all of the magnificence in a mini-van with five other people and all of thier luggage.
spain is an amazing country, stretched curiously between the ancient and the very modern. the dual perspectives are visible everywhere- high end retail in the cobblestoned allyways of seville, modern suspension bridges next to ancient roman ones in cordoba, cathedrals and castles and still, the feeling of metropolis.
we went from marbella to seville to cordoba to murcia to valencia to barcelona to olite via countryside and coast roads, countless villages and towns, flying scenery, bread and wine, paella, tapas, world cup riots, mediterranean greens and blues, sheer limestone cliff faces...
it was an experience. i am so very glad to have had it. and, having had it, i am so very glad to be back here, in port chester, doing shakespeare in a park, seeing familiar faces, creaking in the maroon pleather seats of metro north commuter rail, savoring the feeling of being alone in a room.
In other breaking news, i was given a free cappucino by none other than diego [permanently lodged expletive] pazos. the ghosts of my past can never shut up or remain dead, can they...
it was nice to see him though. our conversation was a good reminder of why we were such good friends for that brief moment in time.
in the coming days, i look forward to discussions about real estate, spreadsheet fatigue, company, solitude, and responsibility.
i look forward to a certain island.
-em
back to routine after two weeks in the green and gold and deep red of spain. two weeks, witness to architecture and art, gin and tonics in plaza cafes and tiny winding streets, olive groves and wheat fields like cordouroy and miles of sunflowers. i practiced my spanish. i practiced my patience. i practiced the art of self-containment, whipped stick-shift around all of the magnificence in a mini-van with five other people and all of thier luggage.
spain is an amazing country, stretched curiously between the ancient and the very modern. the dual perspectives are visible everywhere- high end retail in the cobblestoned allyways of seville, modern suspension bridges next to ancient roman ones in cordoba, cathedrals and castles and still, the feeling of metropolis.
we went from marbella to seville to cordoba to murcia to valencia to barcelona to olite via countryside and coast roads, countless villages and towns, flying scenery, bread and wine, paella, tapas, world cup riots, mediterranean greens and blues, sheer limestone cliff faces...
it was an experience. i am so very glad to have had it. and, having had it, i am so very glad to be back here, in port chester, doing shakespeare in a park, seeing familiar faces, creaking in the maroon pleather seats of metro north commuter rail, savoring the feeling of being alone in a room.
In other breaking news, i was given a free cappucino by none other than diego [permanently lodged expletive] pazos. the ghosts of my past can never shut up or remain dead, can they...
it was nice to see him though. our conversation was a good reminder of why we were such good friends for that brief moment in time.
in the coming days, i look forward to discussions about real estate, spreadsheet fatigue, company, solitude, and responsibility.
i look forward to a certain island.
-em