playing catch up.

Believe me when I write that I’m more than a little frustrated that I haven’t written in almost a month. I never intended for it to be that way, and I hope it won’t occur again. Life does, however, get busy. And as much as I absolutely adore writing on this blog, I feel that it’s important I focus on enjoying the experiences that compose daily life, the little moments that create the fodder that I can then write about reflectively.

This past month has been a pretty insane one. Exam period crept up on me a little faster than I would have liked, and the hours of the day seemed to disappear a lot more quickly. Madre visited from the States and we shared ten (extremely short) days, and there was absolutely no time for blogging. But now it’s April 24th, and I’ve got four days of simple, (hopefully) uninterrupted quiet ahead of me. I have time to reflect on the wonderfully crazy ten days Madre and I shared (posts to come); I have time to read the books that have been accumulating on my bedside table; I have time to reply to the letters that are terribly overdue. But, even more than that, I have time to sit down and write. To write to fulfill myself, to write to stay inspired, and creative, and present, and to write to keep this blog up to date. Because, if nothing else, I want to look back on this in some years time and see that I’ve kept a pretty good collection of my daily going-on’s. Even with month-long gaps.

Thanks for staying with me, readers!

R.

jiggity jig

Home again, home again. Hard to believe, but it is so. Less than 24 hours ago, we returned to the United States from our incredible–beyond fantastical–trip to Europe. I can’t believe it, really. I have to note that, honestly, landing in the States actually made me sad. I want to be back in Europe! I want to be travelling! It’s always the way, isn’t it?

Our trip was truly tremendous. We are so fortunate and priviledged to have experienced so many wonderful things;, see beautiful, dazzling, stunning sights; eat incredible food;, meet quirky, kind, and interesting people; and travel–as a family unit–together.

Looking back (funny to write that considering that it hasn’t even been a day yet), I think I left my heart in Barcelona. Spain just does it for me. The food, the culture, the people, the weather, the language–me encanta. Germany, Switzerland, and Belgium were all very beautiful places that I adored experiencing. I feel exceptional to say that I ziplined over the Black Forest–I mean really?! I would never have imagined doing that. France was, as per usual, wonderful. I loved the seaside town/metropolitan feel of Cassis, and the surrounding areas that we explored. The people were wonderful, accommodating, and knew their food. Stellar.

But Barcelona. I think it’d be fair to say that I left a piece of my heart there. I can’t wait to get back–and I’ve only been away from that city for about 15 days. It’s crazy how a place can do that to you, isn’t it?

Now that we’re back on “home turf,” I’m preparing to make, do, write, read, be. In a week, we’re headed to Illinois.

But for now, I’m soaking up the memories while lying in the sun. It’s the common summer denominator, so (if I close my eyes) I can pretend I’m still on the other side of the pond.

R.

barcelona, baby

It’d be easy to write that I haven’t had time to post and, while it’s the truth, let that be my excuse. But the most honest truth that I can offer is that posting online hasn’t been my priority whilst I have been over here in Europe these past two (?) weeks. I think I love “the moment” so much that many of them end up piling into hours and soon the whole day is gone and then it’s the next.

I don’t think, however, that I’d have it any other way!

My absence excused, I think it’s time to note that we are currently in Barcelona, Spain., having an absolute ball. After arriving four days ago to a rather sketchy situation (a late night flight and no landlord in sight–I’m a poet; I know it :-D), we have since grabbed the bull by the horns (going all out with the typical Spanish cliché there, lo siento) and have begun to absorb the city as much as possible. Considering our night-owl status, a lot of our sightseeing has taken place from 4pm until 12am, providing an unparalleled depiction of the city in my favourite way: at night.

Over the past four days, we have visited La Sagrada Familia, eaten at only four pinchos/tapas bars, gone to two antique markets, experienced one fruitless attempt of pickpocketing, eaten a plethora of amazing dairy products, met many vivacious characters, visited a museum documenting Picasso’s growth, and been astounded by the sheer beauty of the antiquity of Barcelona and the Spanish culture. As previously mentioned, I adore to have a go at speaking in español. My favourite second language, I feel that Spanish has a kind of warmth to it that I haven’t quite found in other languages. So, needless to say, my inner Spaniard has come out in full throttle as I chuck out roughly strung together sentences, and gesticulations paired with “Como se dice…y….que se llama esto?!”

I love it, frankly.

As a quick review of some of the top spots, with some more specific posts to come:

La Sagrada Familia

An astounding feat by the genius/insanity of Gaudi, La Sagrada Familia was a truly absolute reminder of the power of a goal and persistent dedication. While it’s not due to be completed until 2026 (when, I hope, my yet-to-exist-kids will be able to check out the basilica in all its glory), the structure and interior of the church is magnificent–and, as Hermano puts it, “majestic.” The way the light filters through the stained glass; the echo of the acoustic reverberation of the many languages spoken inside its walls; the forest-like structure of the main room; the plethora of angles and shapes and colours–I’m hard-pressed to believe that Gaudi was anything but a visionary.

barcelona. photo by riley.

barcelona. photo by riley.

TAPAS/PINCHOS

Ever since we visited San Sebastian last summer, Madre, Padre, Hermano and I have been fascinated by pinchos (or, pintxos) — basically a tapas-esque finger food, skewered to a piece of bread. They’re pretty addictive. While we have only visited four pinchos/tapas bars thus far (three in one night, and one the other for a quick snack), it has already become evident that traces of what we so loved about the Basque country is reminiscent in certain gastronomical gems in the hidden parts of Barcelona.

barcelona. photo by riley.

barcelona. photo by riley.

DAIRY DREAMS

Just down the street from our apartment sits a gorgeous shop dedicated to the selling of dairy products — cheeses, milks, ice creams, yogurts, mousses; all spectacular in flavour and very affordable. Since Hermano and I like to consider ourselves “dairy connoisseurs,” daily trips to the shop, Granja Armengol, and visits with the lovely gal behind the counter, have not been lost on us.

barcelona. photo by riley.

NIGHTLY WANDERS

One of our favourite things to do (and something that we tend to do a lot) in almost all cities we visit is to wander around the back alleys and hidden streets at night. In doing so, we discover all of the local gems, and undiscovered uniquities that separate the tourist traps from the truly terrific. One such spot was El Perro Blu, a quaint little bar of which we sat out the front, seduced by the owners two caged budgies and having a drink while watching the locals walk by. The extra great part about it, though, is the owners art on the walls–something not to be missed!

barcelona. photo by riley.

barcelona. photo by riley.

Barcelona has been incredible thus far. With two days left before we jetset off to the next destination, we aim to cross of some more “Must Do!”s, discover some more random spots of perfection, and speak lots more Spanish.

Es possible, no?

Creo que sí. 🙂

R.

keeping it in cassis

Despite the fact that we are currently in Cassis, France (and loving it), I can’t speak French. And while I’d like to think my Spanish is pretty solid, I don’t know how long I would be able to survive beyond conversational niceties in the present tense.

So when communication happens without words of the same language, I feel revitalised by the power of human nature–the power that exists when our similarities transcend our linguistic differences.

Today was a prime example of exactly that.

Of our first days in Cassis, only one was heralded by a wake-up before noon: today. Madre and I had good reason though; the fresh market was taking place in the plaza and was due to finish at midday. The early bird gets the worm (or, in this case, the prepared individual secures the fresh bread and olives), so I opted to try out my avian skills. (As much as I am definitely a night owl, there is something delightful about the early morning and the people that it welcomes: from the many shop-owners prepping their restaurants, to the street-cleaners having coffee in the convenience store, to the stacks of bread that head out the door in the arms of eleven-year old French boys, I can only imagine the stories that I miss in real life because I’m too busy dreaming about them in my sleep.)

Despite asparagus, I have not yet found a food that I find to be unpalatable. Olives and oysters are my two favourite foods, and I have a special weakness for the former–especially when they sit in buckets and tubs within reach, eagerly sold to me by smiling vendors for ridiculously cheap prices. How can I say no?

cassis. photo by riley.

While olives will always have a special place in my heart, cheese holds a close runner-up spot. The most incredible part about this market was the fact that everything was so local; every cheese, every vegetable, every sausage. I didn’t catch his name, but the gorgeous man in the white polo standing behind the wheeled fromage cart was an absolute gem. As Madre and I practically drooled over the comte‘s and brie‘s and various chevre‘s, The Man in the Polo cut chunks and offered us piece after piece of the cheeses. I didn’t say no, obviously; it was a dream come true. He, however, spoke in rapid French, and Madre and I found ourselves a little lost. So, grabbing at a straw, I offered: “Tu hablas espanol?”

cassis. photo by riley.

At the word espanol, a smile appeared on his face, and he tugged at his fellow vendor’s sleeve. She spoke Spanish. So Madre spoke to me, I relayed it to the woman in Spanish; then the woman translated the Spanish to French, told The Man in the Polo, and he said: “Aha!”, proceeding to answer our question, while offering cheeses and colourful words all the while. Soon, a small group had formed around us, speaking a vivid concoction of English, French, Spanish, Italian, German–all communicating with fevour and laughter.

cassis. photo by riley.

It was an unbelievable experience. I don’t know that there is any feeling quite like being understood in another language, especially when one spends much time emphasising one point.

The “aha!” response that effort creates, though, is absolutely worth the wait.

And the added cheese treat doesn’t hurt either.

cassis. photo by riley.

R.