Goodnight, moon...

... goodnight, Baltimore.

Dozing off with a sense of deep affection for both where I am and where I'm going.  SO glad to go, but I'll sure miss you, Bmore and DC - and the wonderful people you hold within. 

Zora: On years.

#buniontalk

I've never considered myself much of a runner.  Running is something I took up because I have the coordination of a newborn colt, and the grace and swiftness in athletic movements of a three-legged cat -- which prevents me from enjoying/contributing in organized sporting activities.  Even the intermural ones. Not to mention the fact that I love napping -- and staying indoors when it's raining.  About two years ago I had a spell where I got really into running mainly because the gym Charlie and I joined had personal TVs on each treadmill.

Real runners zen-out when they run, move with swiftness and majesty, know exactly when to load up on Gatorade and have definitive reasons/clear positions in the morning v. evening running time and pre v. post stretching debates.

In spite of the large chasm between myself and all the real runners of the world -- I made the hair-brained decision to start training for a marathon a few months back.  And, GUYZ - after dedicating months and pretty much all my free time to running + the discovery that I started sending text messages like the one below  -- I think that I mayyy  have reached real-runnerdom status:

{I have arrived. O-fficially}

I have no idea how to feel about said arrival or where to go from here.

A Kentucky-kind of morn

He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul. {Ps.23.2}

A weekend ago was my last in Kentucky for a bit.  Mom and I decided to wake up early and head over to Southland to volunteer in the Community Gardens.  We spent the morning picking raspberries and seeking out the most-perfect among many tomatoes.

While I was initially reluctant to rise early -- I find myself now in DC reflecting on the past weekend

and being drawn to the simplicity, quiet, and lovely way we spent the morning above all else.  The moments of that morn blended together so beautifully that it felt like sacred time -- the tranquility of dawn, interrupted in gleeful bursts of children's cries from the soccer field nearby;  Mom chuckling at my ineptness in the realm of gardening and her quick and sage advice on finding the tomatoes that were actually ripe-for-the-pickin'.

At one point, a few little boys wandered over to help us pick raspberries -- their exclamations and rapt attention to the cause added joy to the already lovely endeavor.  We even found a wolly worm and marveled and laughed together at it's fuzziness and the way it creepy-crawled along.

Kentucky -- I miss your autumn mornings already.

from the fog.

Back from the blogging hiatus for a new york minute.  This week has been ponderous - infused with an abundance and bizarre amalgamation of happenings+feelings.

I am le tired and can't really articulate anything or pull much out of my head (as evidenced by the previous sentence), so instead I've been ruminating over these quotes:

One reason we rush so quickly to the vulgar satisfactions of judgment, and love to revel in our righteous outrage, is that it spares us from the impotent pain of empathy, and the harder, messier work of understanding.

--

Perhaps the reason we so often experience happiness only in hindsight, and that chasing it is such a fool’s errand, is that happiness isn’t a goal in itself but is only an aftereffect. It’s the consequence of having lived in the way that we’re supposed to — by which I don’t mean ethically correctly so much as just consciously, fully engaged in the business of living. In this respect it resembles averted vision, a phenomena familiar to backyard astronomers whereby, in order to pick out a very faint star, you have to let your gaze drift casually to the space just next to it; if you look directly at it, it vanishes. And it’s also true, come to think of it, that the only stars we ever see are not the “real” stars, those cataclysms taking place in the present, but always only the light of the untouchable past.

{-T.Kreider -- both via We Learn Nothing}

Madrid and the wrap-up.

Writing my final Greece/Spain travel blog makes the end of our trip feel o-fficial.  Combine this with my gifted-ness in the art of procrastination, and you end up with the Madrid blog post almost two-months since our departure.

Le sigh. So it goes in the land of writer's block and woolgathering.

{bullfighting ring with Sarah!}

Even though much time has lapsed -- our time in Madrid still stands our clearly in my mind.  We arrived on Friday evening and met up with my friend, Sarah, who spent her summer in Madrid interning and working on some really cool independent projects on the side.  

Sarah set the bar for Madrid high, taking us to this fantastic Chinese place. It was attached to a parking lot (?!) underneath the Plaza de España, and it was awesome.  I knew it was going to be good when the place was packed out at 8pm (a very early dinner time in Spain).  We wound down the evening with a stroll to the Royal Palace, National Cathedral, and Plaza Mayor.

Saturday (and Sunday) we had breakfast at a churro place Sarah recommended (that was fabulous).  We spent the weekend touring the city. A highlight was the visit to the Museo Nacional El Prado, where we got to see Goya's Las Meninas.  (The experience was augmented by having seen Picasso's study of the work at the Picasso museum in Barcelona.)  

Sarah also spent a good chunk of the weekend showing us all over the city -- we saw the bullfighting ring, went to see the Temple of Debod (an Egyptian temple rebuilt in Madrid).  The temple grounds boasted an awesome view of the city, as well as a great fountain to dip one's toes in and cool off during a hot afternoon.  We also partook in vino tintos (and for Mom, a Dr. Pepper!) on a rooftop bar.  Plus, we ventured into a huge and bustling Sunday market -- where I finally caved and purchased these pants that are strangely popular all over Europe.  (Charlie calls them my 'MCHammer pants.'  The purchase was meant to be ironic/grounded in 90's nostalgia -- but it turns out the pants are actually really comfortable.)

Monday we toured the Royal Palace - which is still the official residence of the Spanish Royal Family (although it is really only used for state ceremonies).  The palace was incredible - one room was done up in floor-to-ceiling with ornate, porcelain decor.  Another room was converted into a 1920s-esque wooden billiards space (and in doing so they just, you know - covered an old fresco with wood paneling to make sure the room fit the theme.  Because, who needs that classical, beautiful fresco when you have a dozen others scattered throughout the public half of your city-home?)

Then we went into the Almudena Cathedral.  (Sidenote -- from personal experience and through conversations with friends - I've discovered the "Although it's ridiculous when you say it aloud -- after a while all the cathedrals start looking alike"  seems to be a quiet, but universally shared, experience. And this sentiment was pretty much my take on cathedrals by this juncture of the trip.)

But alas, the Almudena Cathedral had pleasant surprises tucked away everywhere.  The cathedral wasn't finished until 1994 -- and thus the interior is uniquely modern.  Touring this cathedral was an "a-ha!" moment of sorts, as I found myself reflecting on how much I'd under-appreciated all the previous cathedrals I'd seen that were decorated in the more traditional gothic and neo-classical styles.  I was drawn to this cathedral (same went with the Sagrada Familia), which was decorated in a more contemporary style.  (This led me to deeper reflections on how the practices and structures of faith morph across time and culture to be more palpable and approachable, but let's save that for a rainy day.)

{be still, my beating heart.}

Anyway. The Royal Palace and Almudena Cathedral, each in their own majesty, were just a small taste of the greatness of the day.  We spent that afternoon at The Reina Sofia. Again, I had a complete lack of expectations for the museum (my limited knowledge was that it housed Picasso's Guernica), and thus my experience superseded everything I had anticipated.  The best part was in approaching the museum -- and discovering that the museum was hosting a special Dalí exhibit.  (Ellie: say helllllo to that feeling you get on Christmas morning!)

If you ever go to Spain, carve out a solid half-day for the Reina Sofia, and at least thirty minutes to take in Guernica.  What was most interesting for me was the juxtaposition of the hugeness of Guernica with the smallness of The Persistence of Memory, a painting I've been waiting my whole life to see. Words are lacking to capture everything I absorbed in that museum (kind of the point of art, huh?).  And so, as the Reina Sofia was the last stop of our trip - I will simply wind down this post with Barb and Ellie's finds from the Dalí exhibit:

a) 

 The lobster telephone, which my Mom (who spent a portion of her childhood in Maine) loved.

b)  This, tripped-out but awesome, collaboration between Dalí and Disney.

And so ended the trip of a lifetime.  Thanks to my partner (in crime?!), brother, grandparents, cousins, fellow-friend travelers, aunt and uncle, Barb,  Thomas,  and countless others who made it possible.  And thanks most of all to my mom, a world traveler, endurer of endless flights, navigator of narrow and bustling streets, and co-reveler in the simple beauty of all-things-new. 

Southern Spain Redux: From 2 countries to 3.5!

So, we've been home for like, two full weeks! I am going through a smidge of Euro-withdrawal and thus have been holding off on the final two blog posts so I don't sound TOO over-the-top in all of my travel gushing. But here is the (penultimate) travel post:

Post-Barcelona, Mom and I hopped on another plane and headed back down to Southern Spain.  My cousin Donna, her husband Sebastian, and their two kiddos live in Rota, Spain.  The spark for the trip (ultimately the highlight of our travels) was the chance spend to a few days visiting with them and to explore the surrounding cities/(countries).

Upon arrival, we had a low-key day which was a blend of rest, touring a Spanish bodega (we were in the sherry ‘triangle’ of the world after all), and visiting with the Stachowicz family.

Then! We decided to take the plunge and spend a day trip in Tangier.  I was on the fence about this, as I was worried just a day wouldn't do Morocco justice. While I still wish we'd had another week and could have made it to Fez and Marrakesh -- Tangier was a definite highlight.  We rode camels, went to the Cave of Hercules, strolled through the Kashbah, and explored the vibrant, crowded markets.

We spent another day exploring Cadiz.  Cadiz was another city that really surprised me with how much there was to see.  A small beach town, the city’s greatest claim is that it is the oldest city in Europe.  The city definitely boasts a ton of archeological and historic sites.  We spent a good chunk of our time in the Cathedral.  One of the most interesting aspects of the visit was that we were two of only a handful of tourists walking around.  The Cathedral might have been empty due to the visible disrepair and neglect, but Mom and I still enjoyed getting to take in the beauty of the architecture.  The crypt was particularly interesting -- it was the biggest we saw and felt very much... like a crypt. I couldn’t help but feel shivers run up my spine as we ambled up out of the stairwell after spending a few minutes exploring the space.  After that, Mom and I enjoyed a coastal stroll and ended our day playing a hand of cards and enjoying a vino tinto
in Park Genoves.

Finally, we spent a day (with Donna and Chris!) in Gibraltar.  We went up to the rock and saw the monkeys, which Mom really enjoyed.  I thought it was awesome to wander through the military tunnels and read about the various military engagements and strategic ways in which the tunnels were dug and used.  We wrapped up the day at the very lovely botanical gardens – which had one of the coolest playgrounds I’ve stumbled upon in years.

Friday we trekked out to the beach near Donna's house and then boarded our train back to Madrid, thus ending the jaunt through Andalusia.

And now for a brief ramble, yet again – on how the who trumps the where.  I’ll wind down this post by reaffirming how wonderful it was to visit with Donna and Seb, and their kiddos Jill and Chris.  With the lack of an older sibling, I've always looked up to my older cousins. Donna (and her husband, Seb) are kind of the archetype for awesome older cousins.  They’re brilliant and successful, dedicated parents, and really fun, well-traveled and interesting people to hang out with.  Most of all, they’re people who live out what it means to serve – as they’ve both been deployed overseas (Donna in Iraq, Seb in Afghanistan) and Sebastian is still active-duty in the Navy.

We whittled away the evening hours drinking good beer, eating good food (Seb introduced me to this fried bacon goodness-majig), hearing about one another’s travels, swapping family stories and talking about current issues in health and politics (without yelling, angst or blood-pressure inducement, even!).  We also closed off one night with an few rounds of Cards Against Humanity!

The time in Rota was a wonderful respite from hotels, museums and over-stimulation in general.  It was a time for patio-sitting and lingering over meals, crawling on hands and knees to chase after Chris or stealing away for a bedtime story with Jill.  It was a joy to get to experience a bit of Donna and Seb’s daily life when we so rarely get to see them, and to catch up on family stories that we’ve missed between the miles.

And on and on I could go.  I’ll end there – and will wrap up these posts with a final entry/general wrap-up including details from Madrid soon!