Endgame Spain

Monday, June 30, 2007

I have been of two minds lately. Half avoiding, half anxiously longing to update for days…. Days? No, it’s been weeks! It’s been weeks since I have last written. I suppose first there was Morocco, a sad-glorious whirlwind of leather tanneries and impossibly crowded souks. There was the serenely passive second journey to Granada. Which ended with the arrival of my Parents. Then, a farewell party. Then the trip across Andalucia, Extremadura, and Portugal... All the different beds, lifestyles, and emotions scrambling together. A fevered rush I’ve had… never having a moment to break… or, maybe having a small moment but only a moment long enough to nap and plan what to write. To dream for only a moment, then begin life again.
And here I am now… outside beside the pool of the last parador of our tour… It’s an ancient Renaissance-Mudejar monastery, set within a picturesque and remote Portuguese town by the name of Evora… so many towns, so many crazy hotels for so many days. My father is one of those characters who adores researching… At his job, he researches population statistics, budgets, and government grants. In his spare time – when not sleeping at odd moments of the day – he obsessively pours over travel magazines… Furthermore, he NEVER disposes of these travel guides. Conte Naste, Geographic Traveler, amongst others pile on already crowded shelves and seems to sit and rot for years. Then suddenly, after many many months of thought, he finally chooses a locale. Then the pouring over the magazines begins again. In time, he tends to create truly spectacular trips… And this one has been no exception.
However, as our trip concludes, I am truly relieved to be going home. I adore my dad’s silly French-Canadian-Arab cousin Patty, and likewise my mother and father are excellent company. Again, Spain and Portugal has been more than incredible. However, the contrast between my life in Sevilla and my two weeks of traveling with my family felt like going between fire and ice. I went from daily outings to bars and clubs. Constant reckless youthful nights went to two weeks with less than a conversation with someone under the age of 55.
It’s been fun but now, I am much too ready to be home. Looking as to how unreliable internet access is, and how little time I have when road-tripping. I think this will be my last entry in Spain. I'll write in a months time in Jordan. Much love.