Say What~

Just yesterday I got an opportunity to meet a friend in Maui, all expenses paid. * Ask me if I took the offer?* (Duh!) I packed my backpack, then proceeded to coax and cajole my battered bug along the Kamehameha Highway…heart excited and bent towards the promise of a fun-packed, carefree weekend getaway. I arrived and met my friend.

Memory lane was traversed….in actuality, it seems more like ‘skipping’ would describe our chosen state of mind/ mode of transportation into the path of our pasts. The short, inter-island flight literally (and figuratively) flew by as we caught one another up on present day shenanigans and what-nots.

I soon realized, however, that underneath this peaceful and poised exterior, there lied a pained and bleeding spirit. After several hours of conversation *and just as many (okay, if not more) glasses of wine,* I had heard the full story. I had gone over in minute detail the plot that pained my friend so much. I felt I had met them there, had practically memorized the sorrow-filled script that had brought them to the islands in search of an escape.

My initial instinct when I see friends in pain is to want to fix it…to make that pain stop…to obliterate any hardship and suffering from their entire sphere of being. Yet I remembered something that a friend had shared with me in my past emotional purgatories. I remember I was in the middle of a breakdown * tears, Kleenex, runny nose, asthmatic wheezing, blithering…(you get the picture)*. I mean, I was really going at it, letting myself ‘speak truth’, allowing free reign to fully ‘FEEL these feelings’ and giving myself permission to ‘release them’ * oh, with gusto! * As I looked up, naively expectant of being greeted with sighs of sympathy, a heart melted, and a compassionate countenance, I was instead met with a fixed, expressionless stare (straight through the core of me did her eyes slice,) and a bold, monotone: “Well, that does suck Andy…SO NOW WHAT?”

As this flashback reverberated in my brain, the remembrance of its healing (albeit shocking) quality (and my reluctant acceptance of this reality of responsibility to move towards positive action) bolstered me towards my own brash move…

I repeated this same question to my friend. The scene played out in response was eerily familiar. I received the same shocked silence....followed by that momentary mulling of the mind (I imagined a spout of steam tufting through earlobes as I waited)…the sharp intake of breath (I believe as the pain of hearing hard truth is processed and compartmentalized)…the exhale of realization/ resignation/ acceptance of the reality that is…and then…then… the eyes raised to meet my gaze (as if my own mirror). To meet me here (wherever “here” is)…to look that daunting question square in the eye:

So.

Now.

What?

We don’t usually know right away. I sure as hell don’t have the answers…but I do know that there is always room for this question…with every breath…in every moment…a challenge for growth, a spur towards change… a catalyst championing forward motion.

I head home today, back to the life I love. I am happy and hopeful…yet have a newfound awareness….

I am responsible.

I go now...the next what awaits~

Meet Me In The Morning~

Early morning. I have spent many days like this lately…waking as the world sleeps, fumbling for my coffee cup to go, sleepily slurping my liquid speed, while racing down the dark, deserted road in order to meet my date. I like to get there first…so I can be waiting as he arrives. It is in those quiet moments…the still, silent seconds spent just before I see his face, that are priceless to me. The anticipation never ceases to bring the butterflies to my belly (they are flying high with the expectant joy of spending time with him too it seems).

The awareness that he is coming to meet me, reduces me to that giddy schoolgirl, (you know her)…the one standing on the side of that gymnasium wall at the school dance…giggling uncontrollably and praying under her breath for him to ask her to come 'cut the rug.' *And he does…oh, how he always does *~

We have a standing engagement, he and I. He has never missed, not even once. I, however, (much to my shame) have often (and still do) stand him up. Usually it is because I get lazy and would rather sleep in. Or, other days, I just promise myself I will make it to see him tomorrow, and that this somehow will suffice…that this will be enough for me. Any way you look at it, I am not there because I take him for granted. I forget what he does for me...who he is to me...how he makes everything better without saying a word somehow.

Yet, despite my neglect, he remains patient and forgiving...faithful even. This loyalty, and lack of all bitterness, is probably supported by the fact that he knows without a doubt that if I were to ever abandon our morning trysts, there is a constant stream of women around at any given time that flock to him, admiring his beauty and feeling privileged just to be in his presence. (I believe in some cultures he would even be considered a god of sorts, I tell you!)

Women fall at his feet (men too, even). I have actually even seen one woman saying prayers to him. People stop to take his picture…he always smiles kindly. Any angle is his best side, don’t you know? He shines with divine goodness. The sweetness of his countenance radiates and touches all. Healing to the heart, any would be blessed to spend even a moment with him. I am such a woman... Most Blessed. Every day.

So, yes, this morning, I showed up. I intentioned to do so. I set that d**ned alarm clock (only hit snooze twice!) I dragged myself out of that warm, cozy purple puff of heaven (also known as the “Purple Cloud”) I said a prayer (more for the other people I would pass on the roads BEFORE the caffeine had time to pulse its perky power through my veins).…and I made it just in time.

I watched as he playfully peeked his nose around the corner…granting me with only small glances at first (he always was such a delightful tease). I remained patient….happy just that he was there with me. Hopeful that he would be able to stay for the entire day…just to let me bask in his presence. He came closer…so tall…towered above me and smiled down. That grin…glowed. I lifted my chin, closed my eyes, and willed everything on earth to silence. This morning I am selfish. I will not share. He cradles my upturned face gently. Tenderly kissed like I have never been before, I find myself at peace in his presence.

My sanctuary.

My sun.

Changing Room~

It has been one month now since I have returned home from what most have dubbed my “journey round the world”. It is an eerie feeling to return home after being gone…to purpose oneself towards reassimilation---towards reintegration into what is actually YOUR world. It feels strange. It feels surreal. And (of course, in any transitional process I seem to encounter of late) it feels SCARY.

I find myself pushing; rushing towards an idealistic return of yesterday’s sentiments, cherished friendships, and familiar feelings—when in reality, I wonder if I mightn’t just relax and receive a welcoming today? Yes, I know, I think too much….and I might also * perhaps * analyze things to death, or at least until there is no outwardly visible semblance of breath left within my imagination’s mind *it having been running wild all day most likely *. However, with thought comes contemplation….and, hopefully, such contemplation creates change.

Change. I shudder at the mere word. Shivers run down my spine at the thought of the unkown arriving at my doorstep—uninvited—unannounced—and most assuredly unfamiliar to my acquaintance. Most of my life, this is how I have viewed change. A scary, unwelcome visitor crashing in (uninvited I might add) upon my peaceful, domestic bliss—disrupting my everyday routine—and in doing so, rocking my little boat as it was merrily rowing along life’s (predictable) dreaminess.

Since I have been home, and have found it to be (although not necessarily tangibly changed) different than what I had maybe expected to see, feel, and even “be”—I am attempting to approach this whole idea of change with (if not a warm, fuzzy welcome) at least a reception not including a necklace of garlic, or a silver crucifix.

I came home early. I had had enough of world traveling and foreign seeking. It is good to be home. I do not desire to be anywhere else in the world but here. Yet, in my heart, there is something I cannot quite place. A feeling. Not regret, no, definitely not that. Not quite resignation (for I am too happy to be here for that description to hold true).

Restlessness? Ah, yes. That must be it. Restless with home? No. Restless with myself? My life? My circumstances? –A startling, first-time-ever answer of “NOPE!” shocks even me to utter—but no. I know it to be a restlessness WITHIN the change. DURING the change. Minutes, to days, to weeks, to one month now….of transition. Today, as each day before, I am pursuing the peace within the process.

Most days, like today, this peace finds me--holds my shaking hands, and quiets my quivering heart.

Other days, it seems to shun me, and I am left feeling cold, unsteady and unsure.

Every day, I know I will be a part of this process whether I like it or not…so today (as I pray each day to come) I choose to engage…to face forward…to stand rather than cower…and to trust…understanding as I do now, that peace is not always palpable~

Enough~

One Girl. Nine destinations. Five countries. Fourteen Flights. Eleven hotels. Six passport stamps. One camera. Twelve photo albums. Six new brothers. Four reunions. Two care packages. One backpack. Two pairs of running shoes. Three marriage proposals (yes…really). Thirty swims across a sea. At least nine meltdowns (that’s one per destination for all you math wizzes out there…) Countless boxes of tissues (only slightly fewer fetal positions crouched in a corner). A smattering of fist bumps and random hi-fives. Four distinct happy dance occasions (or at least all you’ll ever know about!) =====è One woman.

One woman. Two perspectives regarding life’s path:

1) Go, go go!....Out…Beyond…Seek ...Reach…Search...the unknown. Revel in the independence and freedom offered by this amazing opportunity. Grow, Learn. Fear. Conquer. Overcome. Persist…..Become.

2) Stop, Stop, Stop! Be still…Look. Listen. Reflect. Recognize. Remember. Appreciate. Embrace…the known.

Two choices.

Ultimately, I choose both. Presently (tangibly) I choose “HOME” ~

I look around me and see such goodness. Blessing. Abundance…and I hear whispers of: enough.

[I have had] Enough [I have seen] Enough [ It is] Enough [I am]…

Bonjour~

For the past two months (and with two and a half months left to go), I have been on the trip of a lifetime…quite possibly the trip of several lifetimes. I have visited famous monuments, had my eyes opened by ancient places, and been humbled by the majesty of architectural and historical masterpieces.

Barcelona housed Gaudi’s creative genius, the bustling boardwalk of the Barcoloneta, Las Ramblas with its quirky talents and throng of tourists, and a breathtaking cathedral beyond compare. Istanbul offered the glory of the Hagia Sophia, the blessing of the sacred Blue Mosque, and the overwhelming sensory overload of the Grand Bazaar. Upon arrival to each city, I never wasted one moment before I was out the door in search of these awe-inspiring places that I had been hearing about (and dreaming of) since childhood. So, naturally I get to Paris and I follow the same pattern, right? Well, * not exactly *…

I have been in Paris a total of one full day thus far. One single day filled with what I call “little sweet nothings.” --Rambling walks with no particular destination in mind; Naked wrists with no schedule or agenda for which to "dress." Piping hot morning coffee cups, left to cool (in lieu of conversation and communion) to lukewarm liquids. Half-eaten pastries (the first portion being so sublimely satisfying, it rendered the second irrelevant). A "peasant's picnic" in the park –a simple feast consisting of fresh produce from the curb market and mouth-watering fromagerie brie spread on what could only be the closest thing to manna from heaven found on this side of the clouds…the French baguette. Morning runs, soaking up the stillness of a sleeping city. Nights on fire, lit with a glow that only shining, joyous people (not lanterns) can emit. Sidewalks littered with cafes, peppered with patrons watching passersby…every once in awhile you will hear a friendly “Bonjour” offered between neighbors, or catch a snippet of a shared smile among strangers. “Bonjour,” meaning literally “Good Day” in French…* and it was. *

Thankfulness in Every Language~

Temiz I come away from your presence cleansed; to you who have forged the path of purity, and graciously bid me walk alongside...*I thank you*~

Emin I rest in your presence without reserve; to you who have welcomed me into the peace and safety of your sanctuary...*I thank you*~

Sade I shed the weight that has long been a burden; to you who have shown me the freedom in simplicity…*I thank you*~

Eser I am rendered speechless, grasping for words as I stand before you; to you who are a creation beyond compare…*I thank you*~

Keyif I dance before you, mind untwisted; heart untied—a freestyle flow in which my body coincides; to you who have ushered me into this deliciously rowdy rejoicing of life… *I thank you*~

Kolay I remember vaguely my life before—cluttered and wracked with worry; to you who have simply swept the “stuff” aside…*I thank you*~

Uyanmak I spent my life sleeping to dream of tomorrows—hopes deferred in my todays; to you who have awakened me anew…*I thank you*~

Rahat I stepped into life with you like a pair of worn-in Levi 501’s; it was a perfect fit. To you who clothes me in comfort and grace…*I thank you*~

Evet I stopped doubting myself and began to believe. To you who exchanged my no of “reality” for the yes of possibility….*I thank you*~

Doymak I discovered the deceptive difference between “need” and “want”; the sweet recognition of satiety. To you who whispers softly, “It is enough”…*I thank you*~

Ekim I witnessed the blessed harvest; to you who planted and sowed with such love and patience; who toiled tirelessly over the barren wasteland that was myself…*I thank you*~

Renkli I re-painted my skies with the rainbow of promise; to you who brought color, igniting my world…*I thank you*~

Isik I emerged from the darkness, opening my eyes to seek; to you who were a source of light…*I thank you*~

Mutlukluk “I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart.” Quoting a poetess and embracing the words she breathed—I found happiness. To you who take delight in the truth: “I am, I am, I am”….*I thank you*~

TESEKKUR EDERIM, Turkey…I am a woman most grateful~

Sdupendous~

Sdupendous~

Market day in Kas. I decided to walk into town. Having been lovingly * yet sternly * admonished for my “foolhardy and dangerous!” jolly swims across my beloved (yet increasingly windy!) channel….I figure some sunshine and other form of exercise will do just as well. Shoes laced, keys in hand, IPOD set to Sigur Ros (of course), a quick, passing wave to brother Mem (if I stop, he will try and talk me out of “overexerting myself in the hot sun,” braving one big a** hill/ driveway, and I am on my way.

Once I arrive at the top of the drive—winded, “glowing” (not sweating, mind you) and gung-ho, Sigur Ros ushers me into a steady stream of musical and visual bliss. Turkey provides the accompaniment…* teşekkür ederim, friend * For Forty-five glorious minutes, I make my way past glistening seascapes, pebbled beaches, residential roosters, fellow pedestrians (ponopeople that bless me with every breath), and (my favorites)…peek-a-boo grottos (yes, I see you, you lovely bashful beauties).

As I approach the corner that will bring me to the main street market, I prepare myself for what is to come. The peaceful pedestrian must swiftly switch roles…Clark Kent style…quick-changing into the cunning and alert consumer. What may appear as mere “shopping” to some, I have come to know more as a true sense of self-preservation here in Turkey (at least for my rapidly dwindling bank account) J

To give you a mental picture….it mostly has gone like “this” in the past…

-Arrival. Onslaught. Hands Up. Back-Peddling. Stuttering. Reeling. Gasping for deep breaths. Back-Peddling some more. Spinning. Whimpering (to myself thank God) the mantra “deep breaths,” when all I could hear like a spell-binding chant was “BUY! BUY! BUY!” Teetering about, wondering where in the world is my Zack Morris freeze-frame when I need it...words can only come to: Whoa Nellie…

I have learned a few tactics that have served me well thus far (ALL the TWO times I have tried them):

-No Eye Contact.

-Keep your a** moving! (Once you stop, you’re as good as toast!)

-If you MUST stop, Brace yourself--in what I lovingly refer to as the “Barter Stance!” (Basically, feet firmly planted, yet ready to roll…one eye on the merchandise (cursory glance of non-commitment of course) and the other eye on the door (or in this case….stall entrance…).

Normally, I am not buying, but today I am actually looking for something small for a friend’s birthday. The vendors sense this…it’s like some frighteningly sensitive alarm system in their psyches and I have a big, blinking neon aura around me. * And, yes….I have been spotted… *

The teetering old man surprisingly approaches with stealth-bomber speed, arriving directly under my nose (smaller in stature by a good foot, yet I sense instantly that he is the one in command of this situation). His ferocious friendliness and charm is almost palpable. I sense myself slowly crumbling beneath his easy manner, humorous antidotes and winning smile. I ask the price of a handwoven scarf I have had my eye on. It is quoted, and seems reasonable, yet my big brother Mem’s advice rings in my ears: “Andy, you NEVER buy the first price! That is for suckers! And the higher they sell to you for, the more of a sucker you are….*shaking his head all the while at my complete hopelessness and ignorance….tsk tsk* ” I take this wisdom to heart, and (Barter stance still holding strong!) back-peddle my way towards the escape….er…..exit.

Just for my curiosity’s sake, I waited just outside of view to watch this man work (this was by far better than any entertainment I have yet to stumble upon in my adventures). I must have observed for at least2 hours (they flew by) when I noticed a man pick up my scarf. I waited with abated breath as I listened to hear the quoted price ( I was mighty curious to know just how large of a “Sucker Sign” I had tattooed across my forehead this particular day. * Apparently, a biggun’ * …..the man was quoted HALF my price, and seemed happy as he reached for his wallet to pay. I gleefully took this opportunity to round the corner and interrupt with an innocently ignorant (of course) doe-faced: “I’ve decided it’s just too good of a deal to turn down! I’ll take it at your sale price and DO thank you ever soooo much for giving me the special!” * I even added a clandestine wink for good measure.

As I strolled out of the stall, merchandise hot in hand, I chuckled to (or at) myself (one can never tell which most days). The * sales price * * steal * of a scarf was beautiful, but it was the exultant look upon that vendors' face, coupled with the priceless machismo comraderie between the two men (who shared a secret smile * or snicker? * over the little American Super Sucker) that I considered to be worth every lire~

Turkish Tarzans~

We woke up late (a luxury we are most definitely NOT allowing ourselves to get used to). Breakfast with our brothers. Add a new guest couple, recently moved in, to the mix…blessings abound. Carbo-loaded, laughter infused, energy boosted and charged with caffeine (Turbo-style Turkish, of course), and we are ready to greet this day.

Our morning swim across the channel has never felt so good. The current was strong, but we were stronger. The ocean’s pull was a welcome resistance, providing a challenge—something to shoot for and overcome…a goal. And, when we finished—fully spent—too tired for troubles—no energy left to waste on worry…we thanked Jah for all the cares castoff—collected now at the bottom of that salty sea—having slicked off our slight shoulders in the somewhere in between~

Morning melted into afternoon. Days here dally about; yet somehow we fill the time. Fellowship, peace, sunshine, and laughter—all merge as we go about our work in a moderate manner. Languid lengths of hours…merging into one 24 segment cycle.

Evening time now. Not yet night, and the morning having made its quiet exit long ago…the slight lull lingering in the space now left. What to do? Are we hungry? Not yet…the bountiful breakfast became brunch (and quite possibly will suffice for dinner as well if the fullness and satiety of our stomachs has its say). In fact, we can imagine its say would go something along the lines of: “lütfen! artık”….(“PLEASE, NO MORE!”) J We realize that we should probably write something today, but here at the hotel our family is such fun, not much penmanship or productivity is projected to occur. To town we go, then…

One dolma down (that’s a Turkish bus…and...after the first, we believe we may only “need” one, as our legs are suddenly not so tired anymore…* funny how claustrophobia, cramped spaces and odiferous aromas of various unidentified genres--and origins--can do that…*)…and we are deposited into the depths of the bustling, big town (try to contain your excitement..I know…it’s alot to take in all at once). From the one grocer, to the two main (and only!) drags, one really must pace themselves to absorb it all J

Okay! Focus, Ponopeople, we are writing tonight! Hmm…surveying the town square (which, we have to admit, is ROCKIN’ tonight!) we see that the town is represented in full force…all twelve of them. Woo-hoo *hands raised, fists pumpin’—fanfare *. Productivity and writing in mind, we skirt around the square’s edge in search of a place to perch our poetic awesomeness. There! Spotted!—a little corner of bench right by the sea…far enough away from the crowd, yet still enough atmosphere around to inspire—we have arrived! We launch into writing mode…Notepad: CHECK! Pen: CHECK! Lucky handmade ring from Ari: CHECK! Water: CHECK (hey, this writing can be tough..one must stay hydrated!) Black and white spotted feline friend avec notebook: What the (C)HECK?.... and enter our new kitty co-pilot. * Fabulous * just wonderful…now, if we could just have you, Miss Kitty, scoot over a * tad * …so we could * maybe * just see one corner of our paper…yes, thank you, that would be SUPER…* sigh*~

After humoring the little furry freeloader (yes, we fed her too….such pushovers), we sent her on her way, and set our focus back to work. Pen poised, we pondered plot, characters, setting, rising action, falling action, and climax... * as in, the head trauma we just underwent as the band of biker boys, avec little sisters in tow..avec SPLAYED SOCCER BALLS…awesome! BUMP THAT—literally (we are assuming they had the same idea…) * sigh *~ As we turn to give them all an EVIL “Hey what the HOO?” glare-with-a-nostril-flare!---our eyes rest upon the cutest, most adorable, infectiously endearing imp that we have ever seen. * Goners *…..we smile despite ourselves—In that instant the throb of our (now dinosaur egged) heads dissipating.

* Sigh…* ...* smile *... *sigh *…..Resigned, we allow ourselves to revel in the rambunctious rowdiness that is now enveloping us. Looking around at this tribe of tiny Turkish Tarzans, we know we are surrounded…we drop the pen, and reach for our camera (our own version of raising the white flag)… and surrender, swept up in the silly sounds and sweetness of youthful bliss….we are being held captive-ated~

Divine Chance~

It was a blind date, neither of us knowing quite what to expect from the other. Yet, you did not seem nervous or ill at ease. In fact, it was your quiet confidence; your humble assurance, that attracted me instantly.

You met me at the airport gate. Without one word you had my bags; relieving me of the cumbersome weight I had been carrying. You apologized in broken English for your lack of communication…not realizing all the while, that from the second you smiled, we’ve been speaking the same language. You gently took my hand in yours; I let you lead.

We spent that first night together. I was surprised at how safe I felt, so soon. It is not like me at all. You were kind and vulnerable with me. You showed no fear or hesitation. Patiently pursuing me, you opened yourself up for me to discover…inviting me in…allowing me to know every inch of you. I find you irresistible. Your nakedness is beautiful to me. Spellbound, I cannot look away.

Because you gave all of yourself so freely…without fear…without reservation…unconditionally---you freed me to offer myself. I felt wanted…as I was…here…now. I felt beautiful. I felt flawless. I felt I belonged. I felt held. We fit together perfectly. The gentle pressure of your hips was not an oppression, nor controlling pulse—but rather our bodies and souls aligning in rhythm; dancing to a tune tangible to us alone. As I opened myself, you met me. Together we found our flow…poetry personified.

The morning after I did not have to worry…you were still there with me. A palpable peace—your presence beside me. I never had to tell you I needed my mornings to start softly. You wordlessly held me close, leaving me to gently greet the day my own way—in the peace and stillness of sunrise. You waited; I reveled in its radiance.

When it is time (and you always just seem to know when that is exactly) you bring me coffee—bold and black…just how I like it. Breakfast is simple (most of the things we share are)…made from good things from this good earth. Our bodies are nurtured; our souls, sustained.

Turkey, I am glad we took the risk...I look forward to this season of LIFE with you~

Just Like The Moon~

Barcelona

I awoke early. Bouncing out of bed, I was eager to get to know you. You slept. You made me wait. I tried to go back to sleep and be patient, yet I felt restless...listless...lost. I am a morning person, didn't you know?

As I waited on you, I had time to think; time to pace the chilled marbled tiles, giving my icy feet time to remember (and grieve for) the warm, Hawaiian sand they'd so recently burrowed beneath. I had time to worry...to fret over how many mornings alone I would spend during our time together--time to calculate that loss in not just days, but hours...minutes...seconds...moments...and loved ones. I looked outside. Not even the sun would shed its light; instead making me wait in momentary darkness. I felt you were closed entirely to me, Barcelona. Even your shops and markets had no warm welcomes for me this morning....signs seemed to scream in resolved solidarity: "CERRADO!" I was awake, alone.

Unaffected, you took your time. As mid-day approached, I (being nearly at my wits' end, and certainly almost out of patience) watch as you nonchalantly amble towards me. Slowly, you beckon your day to begin, acknowledging noon in an unhurried aside. I follow at your heels, anxious to see who you are; what you are all about; to discover why you are so beloved among your people. To possibly understand why those who arrange their entire lives just to stay near to you possess such fierce loyalty in your name.

You stroll down the street, round three corners, cross one plaza, and slow. Sidling up to an unassuming sidestreet cafe, you enter...no introduction necessary. This is your spot. Here your table is ready--your coffee and croissant are waiting to warm you. I eat as well, feeling energized by the welcome repast. Yet, still, I wonder what it is exactly that is so special about you. You seem so quiet; almost rude; arrogant in your way. I wait to see.

You settle the bill and I assume we are on our way. My heart drops as I watch you leisurely reach for the daily news, shifting your weight ever so slightly--settling in. We sit for what seems like hours, observing as people pass. Your neighbors, your friends, your colleagues...all greeting you in quiet nods and familiar double-kisses from cheek to cheek. Your streets begin to slowly grind their gears--street vendors pedaling their wares; citizens shifting their paces into one slow and steady, collective hummmmm (yet in a reserved and almost regal way). I begin to see glimpses of life in you, Barcelona.

We share a lite lunch in a little cafe, and you open up a bit more in conversation. Gestures are more animated, and your muscles along your jawline (as well as your stiff upper lip) become more relaxed. I think I may have even caught a brief and fleeting glimpse of a grin at one point.

I begin to get excited, but now, where are you going? "Siesta," you say?!?!? But...isn't that just an exotic and very European-ese way of saying..."NAP?!?!" (as in the kind I used to be forced to endure back in the day...in Mrs Frye's Kindergarten class...while relegated to an orange foam mat that I DISTINCTLY remembered smelling of a grievous mixture of urine and cheetos?...) Well, if so (and I sadly fear it is), to be quite honest, this idea of wasting so much of my day away when I could be getting to know you, leaves quite the same odious stink to my senses). * Boo *.... Yet, I humor you, and we place our days on hold as we sleep. * sigh *

We awake and, surprisingly I feel refreshed. Almost, yes, almost as if this is morning anew. YOU bounce out of your bed and leave ME in the dust! There is much to do, you say, as I dash after you. We make our way through the (now bustling) streets; streets awake and alive with people yelling, heralding their family and friends across the avenues. I dodge children and papas giggling through a frenzied futbol session in the square...watch as a tiny curl-crowned Spanish princess passes by, greedily gobbling up her gelato--a tiny pink trail of sticky sweetness the only evidence remaining of her afternoon's delight.

Arriving at the pub, we sit. We eat. We drink. We laugh. And..I watch you come alive...mingling, dancing, reveling in fellowship and light. It is not until now that I see you, Barcelona. You, to me, personify the very rhythm of your days. We got off to a slow start. I only felt darkness from you...until I understood and looked closer. You, too, shine....the moon to Hawaii's sun, you are now understood, and recognized, with respect and newfound wonder.

I collapse into bed as we return home. How about tomorrow, new friend, let's sleep until noon....