just my kind.

you know someone loves you when they send you fallen autumn leaves, a new place to write, amaranth, and a lullaby. and you realize there are people in this world that know you inside and out. they know to send leaves. and a new place to write thoughts. and amaranth. and lullabies. they know it will fill the things that are missing, that it will make you sigh and breathe deeply. they know that when you open this package you will once again feel normal, whole, mystifyingly good. and that is love. 

the salamanca sassies.

my health is finally back. here i am. alive. well. and happier than ever. 

what a weekend it was. man. we had no idea what we were in for when we loaded that big bus on thursday morning. sure, salamanca would be beautiful, but just how stunning the trip would actually be was unbeknownst to me. 

first things first... cáceres. 

where cj studied for a semester during college. and of course when i aksed him what i needed to see there his response included tracking down the best smell in the world. of course. 

look for "pintores" street. i can't describe what it smells like. it's a combination of everything good you can imagine. you have to find it. 

our senses were heightened, waiting to have this scent dance within us. in the two hours that we were there, erin, emily and i found the street and paid a bit of necessary homage to my dear brother. 

 

we worked our way up to salamanca. precious precious salamanca. the place is stunning. it is the ann arbor of spain (thusfar), the hip college town tucked away in castilla. finally we were able to feel crisp air, see fall leaves, need to wear coats and walk with coffee in hand. fall is a drug and i need my fill. we were able to all be together, to live as if life were normal again. we fell in love in salamanca. 

during the day, the city is full of history. how does it feel to be walking amidst thousands of years of history? to look that in the eye? to touch that? man. 

i walked through rich religious ruins, i found the frog on the head of the skull, i looked down the ancient well, reveled in the university, tripped on cobblestones, got my nose ring ripped out (oh, i guess that is not such a pleasant memory of such a pleasant city, although a funny one it certainly is...builds character.....), marveled at what the city had to offer. i soaked it up. 

        

but the thing is...just wait until you see the city at night. it is absolutely stunning. the night life is amazing. the "going out" night life is the city's pulse and reigns strongest between three am and sunrise. talk about a drink special: any shot at the chupitería is one euro. but the calm night life? now that is astounding as well. 

and really, walking around with dear friends and hot coffee after a meal of freshly made pasta and a damn good house wine? could it get better? 

i found my history of evolution in salamanca. i am convinced that spanish is in fact part of the debruyn blood. you cannot convince me otherwise. they saw it coming. 

and after two nights of sleepovers. two nights of pushing three beds together to make one big one. of finding a built-in radio in the wall that plays spanish and english pop. of finishing the ration of gin and tonic. of dancing ourselves silly. of flooding the bathroom. of making good new friends. of filling ourselves with the culture of salamanca, we hit the road once again and stopped for a night in mérida--a slightly disappointing pitstop of an appointing trip. 

the two highlights? vampires on tv and roman ruins. 

and now we are back. back in cádiz. home again. back to sweating and schooling. with the memories of a place that i hope to one day reside. yes. it was that great. 

a ballad for the ballot.

it feels so out of control, being a part of this election from so far away. and while a genuine effort has been made to contribute while at home, the rest of it is out of your hands. you've been a delegate, you've preached your words, you did your part, you move on-- and then you move away. so now, you can look online, you can hear about it from family, you can chat about it with spaniards, you can think about it till the rain stops in cadiz. but regardless of how certain all of spain is that obama will win, regardless of their convincing words, regardless of how many times your host mom says "you see that guy on tv? ya. he's your next president..." (thank you, spain, for trying to calm our nerves)--it all feels very out of control from so far away. 

but then. 

you walk downstairs. 

and there is your ballot. 

and suddenly, it feels so near again. 

and now i'm off to find "the best smelling street in the world" in cáceres, spain. then off to salamanca for the weekend. goin' west! 

a taste of home.

we had a huge thunderstorm last night. 

i saw it coming on my walk home around midnight when the sky was lit up minute after minute by lightning-- i took the long way and walked to the ocean, standing there watching it for a little while. it reminded me of the lightning storms in costa rica. man, how can it be so astoundingly different watching the sky light up over the ocean? its amazing. 

at about 4 or 5 in the morning i woke up thinking cádiz would once again detach from the rest of spain and drift away into the atlantic, the way it once was. it was amazing. the rain poured down in gallons (or, liters, whatever you prefer). the sky was constantly lit. the thunder was booming. i opened my shades and watched it for a good hour-- breathing it all in. 

thunderstorms will never get old. 

but a little whiskey helps.

the honesty that exists in conversations over coffee is palpable. 

and the crazy thing is, i am now convinced, that no amount of cultural difference can change this. sure, i don't understand everything that you say, but turns out that doesn't matter. we can have the most fascinating, the most interesting, the most inspiring conversations. we can sit at the cafe and drink coffee with cream and whiskey discussing biblical matters, life and death, what we believe, the good in humanity, our roots, the importance of love, and everything in between. we can repeat and repeat and repeat and always have something new to say. you've got it all figured out? no? me either. lets get a little coffee. man, its a beautiful thing.   

i can talk myself silly, but the truth is, the honest truth, the palpable certainty of it is that you have a lot to teach me. and i have a lot to learn. and, boy howdy, that might be the best part of all of this. 

i dreamt last night....

she lay there so peacefully. angelic. that beautiful aged skin. the skin that has lived for one hundred years. the skin that has stories of horses and history and homes. she lay on her side, in a soft position, slightly curled -but nothing forced. she is in my parents house, in my parents bed, on momma's side. her hands are pressed together under her face, in the way that children mime the sight of sleep, in the way that makes you yearn to do the same. the scene is tranquil and full of peace. 

cj walks into the room. ah, it is impossible to describe the mix that this man carries, so stoic and strong and bold and brave but so gentle and compassionate and kind and tender. the lion whose paws never strike. he sees her lying there. a grin comes across his face. he walks towards her and scoops her up, gently, swiftly, without questioning. this is right. 

they walk out of the room, she is lightly draped across his arms, and the scene changes. they are in fields. endless fields, rolling, ideal, yellow flowers far in the distance, but in the foresight green fields. and blue skies. and she starts to hum. with every step that they take the scene becomes more and more beautiful, and so they walk for a bit. and she starts to sing. her voice is deep, wise, all but frail. he bends down and gently lays her in the grass. he looks down at her and sees her porcelain skin, hears her singing voice, and listens to her song: "he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul...."

i awoke. feeling only comfort. 

fever. tonsils. bedrest.

i am sick. there, first step in getting better, being able to admit it, right? if that's the case, i'll admit it all day and night. i'm sick. it happens. 

things to know if you ever get sick in spain. 

--first, no matter how much your tonsils hurt, no matter how much pain you are in, don't cry. your spanish mom will call you  "tonta" and a baby. (jury's still out on why.) 

--also, she will try to get you to eat everything in the house. and when you tell her you can't eat anything cold, she will then take many things out of the fridge and leave them out overnight in order for you to eat. a kind gesture, really, but i'm not sure how much rotten yogurt will help me. for now, i'll just say no to food. 

--but once you are able to choke something down, chicken soup here is pretty damn tasty. homemade chicken broth, basil leaves, and tiny little pieces of pasta. if you can keep it down, then eat up.

--next, always ask before doing. here in spain they put the thermometer under their armpit. it works.  

--next, if you finally muster up the strength to go to the emergency room, bring your camera. it is a beautiful building hundreds and hundreds of years old. i was in no state to bring mine, but maybe if i had been warned i would have. 

--and lastly, when you are at the hospital, pretend that you are in a 1930's old hollywood flick. because not only does everybody dress that way, but the doctor will also prescribe that way. besides the medication, i have been ordered to a week of bedrest. no, i'm not ninety and no, i'm not pregnant. just a girl with swollen tonsils told to lay in bed for a week. 

now you know. 

on profanity.

foul language is the ordinary here. "so can i use these words in madrid?" i asked guadalupe after our street talk dinner. "absolutely not! only here in cadiz." vale vale vale. i'm just saying, if i call you "picha" or "chocho," it is a sincere compliment. but oh man is it foul. :) 

this has been one hell of a long weekend. my last class on thursdays ends at 10:30 am, and today is some spanish holiday (often times the attitude towards holidays is pure acceptance. people often don't know exactly why they have the day off from work or school, what in the world we should be celebrating, we just know we should celebrate none-the-less) --- which means this is practically a five day weekend. phew. too many nights out until after sunrise.

there is a city just two hours south of cádiz that is supposed to be absolutely stunning. tarifa. there is tons of surfing there and from the white beaches you can see morocco.  i had plans to go today, but unfortunately the rain begged me to get some rest. another time of course. there will always be another time. 

for now, i'll stay in cádiz and practice this ordinary profanity. 

Michelle DeBruyn

c/García de Sola nº28, 2ºd

11008 Cádiz, ESPAÑA

 

----

a little glimpse.

it's been difficult for me to conjure up the words to recount to you what life is like here. i want to tell you, i want you to see it, i want you to smell it and feel it and live it. i want you to smell the ocean and walk on cobblestones and drink cruz campo and take the autobús and look at the cathedral and discover the plazas and barter at the markets. i want the hot spanish sun on your face and the accustomed dripping sweat running down your back. i want you to see this with me. i want you to know what i feel everyday. but putting it into words? now there is an epic task. so i needed to settle in a bit, saturate myself, before passing on the beauty that is this place. of course this in turn meant leaving you hanging for weeks on end about what life could be like. it's just... every day i am astounded. every day my breath is taken away. every day i am dumbfounded by this place. and yet, it is so natural. it feels so right. it feels so normal. and that, my friends, is the most beautiful of all. 

i am sitting now in my favorite plaza of the city: La Plaza de la Catedral. it's tucked away, bordering the beach, shaded, cool, and lovely. right now it is full of children running and chasing pigeons; full of people eating tapas and drinking beer. i sit on the stairs, listening to the flemenco guitarist pouring his soul into his music, watching lovers revel in one another's presence, feeling the air that has become so natural to me. palm trees line the plaza, and right now the sun is setting that last golden blanket of the day. 

i live in a city where there are five buses. but don't worry if you get on the wrong one, because none of those five leave the city. they go up and down the thin line that is cádiz, back and forth. or if the bus doesn't interest you, walking is no trouble (especially with new spanish sandals, thank you). you can walk along the beach the whole way. if you take this way, you get to walk by a wood-working shop and the smell of fresh cut wood pierces in just the right way. or, if you prefer, cut into the old part of town where the buildings touch one another like they've always belonged, like nothing can infringe on their strong bond, like nothing has or ever will look past them. they tease you, they stop and start and make you get lost. but don't worry, you'll find your way eventually. 

i live in a city where the nightlife begins at three am. don't try to go out between midnight (when the tapas bars close) and three am (when the bars open), unless you want to be the only ones out and about-- fucking americans, getting their times all mixed up. and don't worry about being tired, a stigma or a judgment about sleeping the day away does not exist. you can siesta from timbuck one to timbuck two. now that is my kind of life. :) 

i live in a city where respect for children and respect for the elderly are on the same level. you would give up your seat for that dearest grandmother, and here you would give up your seat for that dearest child. for they, too, deserve to be respected and adored and admired and given freedom and the ability to imagine and laugh and have their own seat on the bus. 

i live in a city where everybody drives motos (mopeds, only a bit bigger). where the streets would barely fit a normal car. where you are undeniably cool if you have your lip pierced with a stud. where your dog uses the services of the sidewalk. where little kids are up later than i am. where you dry your laundry outside on lines. where there is history. where everybody is proud. where there is passion in music and dancing and living. where the food is amazing. where you can buy a glass of beer for one euro. where everybody buys beer for one euro. or a bottle of wine? two euros. where people hurl insults at eachother and have never meant so much love with it. where things are safe. where things are good. 

and thus far, after two weeks, i can undeniably say that this place is great. it is wonderful. it is rich in culture. i needed to become saturated before i could recount these things to you. for even in my voice of writing, even in the words that i type, i feel as though things come up short. but i hope you now have a glimpse into life here in spain, here in cádiz, here in "the city that laughs." 

i want you to feel this.