Blue

My time in Spain has been the craziest roller coaster I’ve ever been on (I went on over 30 this summer) and I’m not halfway through yet. They told us before we left the highs would be higher and the lows would be lower, but I didn’t really believe them. For me, my future in Spain was hazy and blue. Far away. I had no idea what to expect. It was full of mystery and I was more little bit scared. I really had no idea what to expect, and to be honest I didn’t try very hard to find out what I should expect.  I liked the indefinite and the unsure. I still do really. I’ve been here for two months, and I’ve started settling into a routine. But the sense of adventure is still there. Every day is a new journey. There’s always something in the distance to explore. In her book, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, Rebecca Solnit says, “The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not”.

            I’ve been more alone here in Spain than I ever have been in my life. But not in a bad way. I have friends and company when I want it. It’s a different kind of alone. It’s the alone that comes when you’re somewhere new for the first time. Without anyone you know. The only things that are familiar are the pictures and things you brought with you, and even those seem a little strange here in this place. Things that used to be so important suddenly don’t matter at all and all of those things you once took for granted are gone. There are the things that you always knew you took for granted, but you didn’t realize how much you’d miss them. Things like food in the fridge, your cell phone, your almost constant internet access, your car. And then there are things that you never realized that you would miss, like quarters, the smell of a new book, or just quiet. The time when you’re alone in this place is the time when you think. The time when the reality of your situation catches up to you. It’s when you’re walking along the street you walk on every single day and it hits you. After one months and 2 and half weeks, you get the slightest realization of the fact that you’re here. This is no longer blue. It’s in full color right in front of your face. But it’s only a flicker, you feel it and then it turns to panic and then it’s gone. That quickly.

            Stepping into to something, with everything you have, blindly with little to no reference is scary. But once you force yourself to step off that cliff, let yourself get lost, the fear lessens. There’s still sadness, and confusion, and yes sometimes fear, but the best part about starting something new, is that you don’t have anything holding you back. My favorite word right now is “aprovechar”. It means to take advantage of what’s in front of you. Take chances. I want to learn all I can from this experience, and the best way I can think to do that is to live in the moment, while keeping my eye on the blue of the next adventure.