Jet lag still running through my bones as I’m on my fourth day back from Spain & here I am typing, not being able to sleep since 2:30am.
It’s impossible to have a great experience without a little pain & pain I felt on the trip back, 13ish hours up in the sky, 3 different planes, weirder than weird experience on the 10 hour flight, my butt went numb & sore, & I just couldn’t get comfortable in my seat. I had the loveliest of seat companions, this mom-like lady from nearby Hillsboro. Ah, so grateful for feminine loving care these days. She kept checking on me & smiling. It’s those things that make me so happy even though I was pretty miserable at the time.
& then stepping off of the plane in 90 degree Utah to weave my way through the strange labyrinth that is customs. Another security line. Disassemble, take off shoes, walk through scanner, thankfully no invasive pat down like on the way there. Luckily I was in a really good mood for that one.
The day after I got back I traveled to beloved Cannon Beach for the cutesy little parade with my step sister & her 2 kiddos whom I love. H was playing in the day care at the retreat center my parents volunteer at. I was prepared for him not to make a big deal after not seeing me for a week but he got super excited & hugged onto me really tight.
I couldn’t sleep that night & the next day was a really hard one. I don’t do well on little sleep, H.A.L.T. (hungry, angry, lonely, tired) kept coming to mind. I had to go walk my grandmother’s dog & H wouldn’t stay with her. I was exhausted & he sat down in the street & wanted to be picked up. I had to call my mom & ask for help, something I really hate to do, but is very necessary for this alcoholic. Thankfully slept like a rock & was back to normal yesterday.
& Southern Spain, oh Southern Spain! If you can go, go! Someday. So much good there, but for me, a homebody by nature, the best part was the villa. Way too many pictures posted here, and this is even edited down from what I have. I couldn’t help what was left, too magical:
I got to a very relaxed state here at this villa. I’m normally a total freak when it comes to bees, I jerk around & say inappropriate things to them when they fly too close, not something I feel great about but chalk it up to being adorably quirky, right? I got to such a comatose place at that pool pictured above, & they still flew very close, hell one possibly could have even landed on my thigh & I would have just have lazily swiped it away (we’ll never know because that didn’t happen, ha). I think Spain was just what the spiritual doctor ordered, I can definitely get very tightly wound, type A, & workaholic on the daily.
So many “wrong” smells there. The food, the soap, the smell of the villa & my room, the laundry detergent (washer was in my bathroom). All of these off smells made me crave home, made me want to smell my bedroom in Oregon, fall face down into my comforter, & just breathe in the familiarity. But, funnily enough now, I pulled out a tank to wear, one that my cousin washed for me & now tears come to my eyes as I smell the Spanish detergent. What strange nostalgic creatures we are, or maybe that’s just me.
It barely gets light outside now, I’m going to try to write another post with Granada pictures while H still sleeps. Because there’s so much more to write about Spain.
My friends, family, & the errant reader: I wish you so much love. The love of the Spanish winds into your hearts.