I’m not a scrapbook-er, although I do like the idea of a book of grievances. However, I would like to keep some record of this trip to Spain aside for the burned CD of pictures that I’ll probably revisit once, maybe twice. So I’m going to attempt to write a few posts while traveling as well as some when I return.
And last night when I was telling my plan to Ryan I mentioned that because I become overwhelmed by pretty much any event or occurrence that doesn’t involve reading novels in bed, I’ve already begun to have anxiety dreams about this trip. So, I’m embracing this neurosis and am going to count these dreams as part of my overall Spain experience. I’ve already mentioned the dream where I show up in Madrid without a Spanish-English dictionary and decide to end the trip after a few hours. And as of a few nights ago, I can add a new Spainxiety Dream (did you see what I did there).
In this dream I was in Spain (but it was really Japan, as you know how dreams can be). And I wasn’t just traveling with Ryan, I was with a group of teachers from my school as well. Just before the trip I had purchased a suitcase that was aesthetically stunning. It was fashionable, chic, and I couldn’t concern myself with the cultural landscape because I was busy adoring my luggage. Apparently, though, this suitcase wasn’t utilitarian. It was so impractical that it was entirely constructed of wooden slats with a piece of (beautiful) canvas as a cover. So, every time I needed to get something inside my bag, I had to rebuild the entire thing, which took anyway from thirty minutes to two hours. The two group got so frustrated with my inefficiency that they left me behind in a public washroom. And that’s where the dream ended, with me in a poorly lit locker room, hopelessly trying to rebuild my beautiful bag.
Next week I’ll be booking our euro-rail passes so I’m sure that will lead to some fruitful dreams.
Always a blissfull pleasure with you on my screen. All I have to say is.. Nick and his family of Chipmans lived in Spain for almost a year before making the wonderous overseas move to our beautiful country.. what he brings to the table when I first met him almost ten years ago from his experience of Spain. There is no beaches like the ones in Spain, beauty like no other, he could recite 1-10 in Spanish (now… nothing), and the monkeys may look nice and cute, but they are NOT always. Watch for poop granades. On that note… a great hat in your wooden slate luggage might need to be arranged.
Miss you and your Witty remarks. Quite jealous of the book club although I might become rather snobish and never want to attend, its been a book a week rate for me lately.
Keep fit and be gentle to those students of yours. (And Ryan)
Love you
katie