Salamanca

Recently I've taken to just staring at the map of Spain, my new found home. 46 million inhabitants are here eating ham and taking siestas. There are a lot of things that I will never get used to.

Flash back to the bus ride from Malaga to Sevilla. Two weeks ago during the May bridge in our work. Alec and I were heading toward feria and great times we didn't even know possible. I met a really nice Japanese linguistics student on the bus and talked the entire four hour ride.

This past weekend I was in a mood to travel but Santiago de Compostela was 100 more euros than I wanted to spend. I decided to skipstep over to Salamanca, which is a mere two and a half hour ride from Madrid, to pay the charming little university town a visit.

I had a jarra, and a small glass of beer with my sandwich at Mendez Alvaro. It's always overpriced but fantastic when you need it. On the bus I sat next to a middle-aged Spanish woman reading a romance novel. My laptop was open and I was listening to a French podcast. Then I switched to a self-improvement podcast about the psychology of wholeness.

There was a sign about some festival at the station. Upon my arrival I marched in to a local internet bar and had a couple drinks, tapas, and found...to my dismay...that there were no hostels available. I realized that meant one of two things. 1) I could party all night with no break. 2) I had to find someone willing to lend me a couch.

In the bar I met an American and Spaniard who wanted me to come out with them last night.

I called the Japanese linguist and we met in the afternoon for a drink by the river. She showed me the entire city including the cathedral, main plaza, and the old Roman bridge. Immediately I was glad to know someone so warm in the city. She went off with her friends and we agreed to meet back up later that night.

At a local bar I got a huge sandwich, some ham, and potatoes followed by some more tapas. Then I hiked back to the beautiful old plaza and saw some street shows. There was  a very flambuoyant man spinning a disc and dancing. I really enjoyed his show. Then I went and watched the game for a bit in a bar. Sauntering back into the plaza I caught a concert.

The American said they were going out at one. Maybe I'm getting old...but I don't like starting that late.

After the concert was over I called my friend. We met up and drank some lemon beers before going to a salsa club. There was a good band playing American music. Salsa came afterward. I grabbed her by the hand and explained the basic steps in English...stopped...and then in Spanish because she spoke no English.

We had a great time; she agreed to let me crash on her couch. The night was perfect on our walk back; she said she was embarassed to not know salsa better. In the kitchen we had a little private lesson. Stepping faster and faster we broke into laughter at ourselves. I leaned in quickly, she was smiling, I paused, then we hugged and thanked her for a place to stay.

The next day we had a river picnic and I took the bus back to Madrid. I probably will never see the American again but I encouraged the Japanese girl to visit me in Madrid.

Throughout the entire weekend until that pause in the kitchen I was comfortable. Since as long as I can remember I've had this ability to recognize and appreciate my emotions. Usually, my impulsivity overcomes my anxiety and the whole mass of emotions runs together into a blissful human experience.

The "no" response is something strange, however. I've had it ever since I could remember. Being a sophomore in high school with a blonde girl on my lap. Feeling each other, passing ideas, and immersing ourselves in the moment was incredible. Then, with my hand in the most intimate position, I asked to leave. No reason, no thought, just wanted to leave. The same happened in the barn with an ex, with my closest friend in Toledo in the summer, and many, many times here. This is changing now.

Tonight, today, now I'm not going to say no to doing what both people want. You only get so many chances to love and laugh in your life. Burning those to feel safe is not worth it.

The seminar I listened to resonated with me. I passed back over Fromm's life story on my way back to Madrid. I discovered something heartwrenching...

He loved many times in his life...but the deepest compassion was for his wife Henny. They both were survivors of Nazi Germany and fled the terror there.

Henny developed a bad case of lead poisoning that left her bed-ridden and unable to use her joints. Except...it wasn't lead poisoning because that's not the typical symptom. Henny had what they could only describe as "a rare form of arthritis with no cause or cure." It sounds too familiar.

So. This morning I have been working on my medical applications. Then I worked out. I am about to play some sax and eat something before meeting up with Rob for drinks in La Latina. tomorrow is a free day. Ambre and I are solidifying our plans for June. I have 70 euro to spend in Santiago the last weekend of May and 25 euro/week for groceries if I want to save up for Paris.

The job outlook seems like this: Clay's Park, Sylvester's, A.R.E. . . . . .

I put out a bunch of info requests for summer camps and biology jobs. Filling out applications tomorrow morning with coffee. I love late mornings.