willie.

his name is willie. it suits him well. he's a rich rich rich old man. a native of brugges, wealthy as they come, he owns an entire block of old apartments in the center of the city. his name is willie. he gives me the willies.

there is a secret tradition that happens in brugges every saturday night. and you're only lucky enough to know about it from word-of-mouth, from chating with the bar tenders, or from that small pamphlet your hostel gives you. its a hole in the wall tradition. literally. let me tell you.

you walk to the center of the city. turn left on twinklebottom street (not actually the name, but it turns out flemmish is incredibly easy to manipulate and crack yourself up with). and look for signs that say something about lucifer (i don't remember exactly). there are a few doors labeled. there are a few signs up. "art and museum ahead." "five euros." "open tonight." keep your eyes peeled. you walk up to the door with stairs. that's the main door. if it's open you're lucky; if it's not you knock and knock until he answers. it was open for us.

willie is standing there. impeciablly dressed. and crazy as fuck. he sings to you in a beautiful accent, some sort of mix between his fluent flemmish spanish english and french; something crazy. he's wearing a black suit, but with a purple velvet robe on top of it. it suits him well. he invites you in his home. his eccentric home. floor after floor of eccentric decorations, of interesting people, of wild and crazy people, of people looking for a story and a history and a good time. he doesn't have a liquor liscense, but he's not actually selling you liquor. he's selling you the invitation into his home, his art castle, his museum. the bar has a piano in the corner. on a lucky night you get live music; on the night we were there the musician was too drunk to play. it is packed. packed. packed. the menu is hand written and easy to snatch. walk around the corner to the bathroom and find a bag of pastries that you can snag for breakfast. oh willie, always appeasing the life of a traveler.

it is the secret of brugges. the walls covered in wigs and plastic heads and pictures of naked women. the walls covered with eccentric decoration and images and stories. it's crazy. and it is willie's pride and joy. but don't wait until too long in the night to ask for a tour of his house. he'll get too drunk and only know how to lead you to the door. thanks for opening you're house to us, willie. now lets hope you never want to leave the city.

secret's out. and willie, you're a mad man. And the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...

christmas in europe.

merry christmas from belgium. where the beer is flowing, the air is cold, and the iceskating is a-plenty. :)

charming.

greetings from amsterdam. perhaps the most charming city i have seen in my life. why the whole world does not live here is baffling to me....

here we go.

i am writing this with exactly twelve hours left before i hit the road. with exactly twelve hours before i venture out and see this world. i have twelve hours left to decide whether or not to bring my ipod. my umbrella. my journal. my belongings are strewn throughout the room, things tucked and pushed and shoved in crevices of that trusty backpack. twelve hours and the next chapter begins.  

all allusiveness aside. here we go. 

i cannot believe that four months have passed. four! this is something i cannot wrap my head around. the pace of time here is unbelievable (which will forever be a mystery, seeing as this spanish culture is so nice and slow and relaxed). time has flown. and four months have passed. 

all allusiveness aside. 

these four months have offered me so many things. they have offered me growth and clarity, a new culture and a new language, days of sorrow and days of joy. 

they have offered me a place that i have fallen in love with. i cannot get enough of it here. i feel comfortable, i have sunk into who i am. with the sights and the sounds and the feelings of this spanish culture, it is what keeps me alive. 

and man, this city has transformed. in the past few weeks it has melted into a christmas hub (which baffles me, since to me the christmas season always means bundles and loads of snow). this means christmas lights (ones shaped like horseshoes, christmas trees, stars, presents), lights on palm trees, roasted chestnuts, homemade apple cider (for which the spanish will always think we're nuts), and chilly evenings. i love this. 

these four months have offered me friends that i cannot get enough of. there's five of us. And while three of them are leaving or have already left, the memories we have keep us going. The Salamanca Sassies. 

these months have offered me a spanish family. one that im still learning to love in entirety.my host mom has definitely won my affection. she is a riot. she scolds me and laughs with me and at me and makes dirty jokes and tells people we sit around and get drunk all the time. she invites my friends over, she cooks like a queen. and even when you forget to call and tell her you're not going home, she doesn't get mad. she mends the tension with gifts of space heaters and velvet jammies. and when its her birthday and you buy her pink nailpolish she thanks you for the thought but reminds you that she only likes brown. haha. what a lady. 

these four months have brought letters from home. letters that always go on the bulletin board. letters with updates and reminders, with words and pictures. letters that transport you back to where you came from. good letters. hand written letters. real letters. 

and skype dates with family. man the days that i get to hear those voices are good. to hear stories from dark mongolia, snowy michigan, lively new york. those days are good. we pick up right where we left off. shit is still as funny as it ever was. and the realization hits that there will never be people in this life that you are closer with; that there will never be people that know you so well; that make your heart beat, your face smile, your blood run.  

these four months have certainly been packed. they have certainly been good. maybe they've been a little taste of what is to come in the next months. and if that is the case, i have nothing be excitement. 

things will definitely be different this year for christmas. it will be the first christmas away from home. the first christmas away from 3840. and while it is the one thing that i have dreaded missing (the christmas trees, the lights, the lazy days, apple martinis, chex mix, egg nog, dolly parton, santa pictures, egg souflé, twiced baked potatoes, stars strewn from the chandelier, family), i will know that this is what i need to be doing right now. that this is perfect.t 

but its time to put on my traveling shoes once again. these adventures. these friends. these salty days. these memories. these dances. these butterflies. these you only live onces. ...... these things happen when you live your life right. 

and so twelve hours before i leave again, twelve hours before i hit the road, twelve hours before i start runnin', here i go. :) it's time to hit the road with my two best friends from this trip, erin and emily. these lovely ladies. these shining ladies. these ladies that have become family away from family. 

first... the netherlands, amsterdam for an afterschool special.

next... belgium, brugge for the christmas market.

next... france, paris to ring in the new year.

next... ireland, dublin to celebrate another year of being alive.

and back to spain. to meet erins family. to settle back in. and (CROSS MY FINGERS) to welcome my dear and darling sister. to welcome the next five months. 

its time. 

a whining update.

you know that game you play when you're a little kid? the one where the ground is lava? the one where you have to figure out a way to walk around without ever stepping foot on the burning hot magma that will in fact burn your feet? the one where you will die if you touch the ground? you go from imaginary lillypad to imaginary lillypad working your way through the house or the park or what-have-you? 

well. i have perfected the art. 

it's an unfortunate art, but it is necessary in this cold. always remember to not touch the ground. not with your barefeet. not with socks. not with anything. it's quite a sight: from bed to chair to desk to chair to bed. a lillypad (battleground? mine field?) maze. you've gotta do it. 

the shelly, shelli, michey, michigan, child within me is proud.  

ok. that's it about the cold. i swear. 

its a long way from michigan. and new york. and mongolia. and seattle. and santiago.

sometimes so strange. sometimes so sweet. sometimes so lonely. 

the further i go more letters from home never arrive.

you just have to go, go, go

where? i don't know, know, know

this is the thing somebody said, somebody told me a long time ago. 

its beautiful and truthful. and sometimes its lovely. and sometimes it aches. this is the song of a traveler. 

the cold.

 

 dear spain,

it's not funny anymore. 

last night i slept with flannel sheets. and seven blankets. yes, seven. i slept with three pairs of socks on. oh, and my slippers. on. in bed. i slept with two pairs of thick velvet pants. and a long sleeve shirt. a sweatshirt. a thick robe. a winter hat. and the hood of the sweatshirt drawn really tight. i don't have gloves, so i wrapped my hands in the seven blankets. and shivered. and shivered. and shivered.

spain, come on. it was funny at firs....no. it has actually never been funny. just cold. painful and cold. i really do love you, so can you just do this one thing for me? can you get rid of some linoleum? get rid of some cement? fix the breeze coming through the window? install some heaters? just one? one heater in the house? is that asking too much? ya, i know you're no mongolia, but right now, you're on my bad list. 

thanks. 

love,

michelle

ps. it's official. going to amsterdam in two weeks!