I have a confession to make: I am a horrible blogger. It's now January and I haven't written anything since October. Oh, the things that have happened since then. I had a Spanish lover, camped and climbed with said lover and friends, worked in an NGO teaching underprivileged immigrant kids, did some awesome solo lady travel to Berlin, rode bikes and attended an electronic arts festival in Switzerland, gardened in France, made more Spanish friends, broke up with Spanish lover, had two very drunken weekends in Córdoba and Barcelona, moved out of my crappy apartment in Chueca, climbed over a fence with all of my belongings on Thanksgiving day, moved into a new and improved apartment a block away from where I had to climb over the fence, let Tanya give me bangs with thrift store scissors while we drank gin and tonics, stayed with a 75-year-old woman who I want to be my grandmother in a small town in the mountains of Portugal, and danced my booty off at a hole-in-the-wall Cuban salsa club in Madrid. Needless to say, it was an adventure, and through all of these life changing experiences, I've now found myself back where I began: in Reno. While my perspective has changed, life here remains relatively the same, which is something I'm not dealing with very well. I've dealt with reverse culture shock before; I knew what to expect, yet here it is again, reeking havoc on my head.
One of the things I really liked to do in Madrid was go to this place called Microteatro, which is a really cool venue that shows short skits downstairs, has an exhibition area upstairs, and on top of all of that, serves yummy food and drinks. One night, Tanya and I saw a skit that involves a man going into a bar late at night. He has just left his wife's funeral and is the only person in the bar. The conversation goes between him and the waitress, who doesn't quite know what to say to console him. At one point she comments on how she wishes that she had something brilliant to tell him, yet her life hasn't been very brilliant lately. That's kind of how I feel. How can I go from brilliance every single day to drab, brown, Republican-infested Reno life? True, I've only been back for a few weeks, which isn't a lot of time to make extraordinary life changes, but I feel like a robot, moving through the mechanics of everyday life - waking up, going to work, running errands, going home, repeat. Is this really what people do their whole lives?
I'm moving at the end of the month. I've been living with my mom in the suburbs of suburbia since I've been back, so maybe the move will help me feel different about this whole situation. It's silly, though. It's just silly and I'm frustrated with myself for feeling all "whoa is me" and shit when my life is really good. I guess one thing I don't understand, though, between travel and real life, is the sense of time. I was only in Europe for four months, but I managed to do more things in those four months than I do in a year while in the US. Why is that? And how do I incorporate more of that spontaneity that I love so much about travel into my real life, this life that I keep coming back to here?
I guess I just find it ironic. I'm sorry for whining, but I've been to 13 countries in the past 2 1/2 years and yet I always find myself right back here. Right back where I began.
One of the things I really liked to do in Madrid was go to this place called Microteatro, which is a really cool venue that shows short skits downstairs, has an exhibition area upstairs, and on top of all of that, serves yummy food and drinks. One night, Tanya and I saw a skit that involves a man going into a bar late at night. He has just left his wife's funeral and is the only person in the bar. The conversation goes between him and the waitress, who doesn't quite know what to say to console him. At one point she comments on how she wishes that she had something brilliant to tell him, yet her life hasn't been very brilliant lately. That's kind of how I feel. How can I go from brilliance every single day to drab, brown, Republican-infested Reno life? True, I've only been back for a few weeks, which isn't a lot of time to make extraordinary life changes, but I feel like a robot, moving through the mechanics of everyday life - waking up, going to work, running errands, going home, repeat. Is this really what people do their whole lives?
I'm moving at the end of the month. I've been living with my mom in the suburbs of suburbia since I've been back, so maybe the move will help me feel different about this whole situation. It's silly, though. It's just silly and I'm frustrated with myself for feeling all "whoa is me" and shit when my life is really good. I guess one thing I don't understand, though, between travel and real life, is the sense of time. I was only in Europe for four months, but I managed to do more things in those four months than I do in a year while in the US. Why is that? And how do I incorporate more of that spontaneity that I love so much about travel into my real life, this life that I keep coming back to here?
I guess I just find it ironic. I'm sorry for whining, but I've been to 13 countries in the past 2 1/2 years and yet I always find myself right back here. Right back where I began.
