the art of traveling with friends

 9/2- passing the sun all over again

The past few days have been such a blur I don't even know how to explain it. One second I was crying my eyes out over a bunch of people I just met a few months before, the next I was trapped in a plane heading across the world to a different country.

It still hasn't settled in yet. I was sitting there in the plane at night, leaving half of myself far far away, back in America. We chased the sun and then the moon and then it was three a.m. at one point and everyone was in the plane sleeping. I listened to The Cranberries and prayed that the plane wouldn't crash and die due to turbulence (I get anxious for no reason). I also watched Twilight for what felt like the seventeenth time, but of course this time it was different because I was really feeling the ominous weird feeling of not being in a normal or familiar place for a while. Of course, it was all numb feelings and it just passes by like the wind. I can say the same for now at least, while I'm still thinking about nothing and feeling nothing. I hope the transition doesn't hit me at all like everyone's been talking about.

Stopping in Amsterdam was when I first realized that America sucks and products from other countries actually taste so much better-- they aren't processed and they taste so real. It really makes you wonder what in the world America is doing, and what the stuff is that they're putting inside our bodies. It's terrifying to think about, and it makes me so sad for every immune system in the United States. If only we accepted real food and just ate it as it was. The real food that God has given us.

The next flight I can't remember that well because I gave into the jet-lag (and the results of traveling for twenty-four hours) and immediately fell asleep, right on the little serving tray attached to the seat in front of me. As we landed in Malaga I was instantly in awe of all the different structures and just what it looked like from above made me nostalgic enough to miss something I've never had. It's a horrible feeling, looking at things from far away and wondering why it was never like that at home. Of course, there's always some hard truth buried beneath the surface, and I always will acknowledge that. But seeing different countries and realizing you're not in the United States anymore makes you start to think about things. A lot. 

Do we belong anywhere, really? We're all just specs of dust floating in the wind, being blown in the way God decides to toss us (lovingly, of course--a loving toss). We all just go where we go and sleep where we sleep and eat where we eat. And we're all the same people, the same human race, worldwide. Divided by race and religion and language. Social constructs, cultural expectations. We all feel the same, think the same, and are designed the same, deep down. Buried deep inside us, somewhere, is that humanness we all share. Which allows us to connect no matter what the circumstances--especially the dire ones. 

Today, however, was full of sightseeing and travel. There was absolutely no time to think about anything, and we walked to the Catholic Church, which was lit up and so beautiful and ethereal but of course we couldn't go inside due to a service in session. Then we walked around the streets, to the bakery, and then down to the shore where I picked out a few seashells and rocks. It was very peaceful and surreal, that different feeling. The beauty, the shells, the peace. The beach was very gray and overcast but that didn't matter. We were all so in the moment that we didn't care.

9/5- ocean, sky, train

The past two days have been rushing to catch the train, taking a million photos, and being obvious tourists in a foreign country. Which, of course, includes jumping up and down and screaming at night and blasting music and doing things I would never normally do.

Our training is going really great for when we go to Africa soon, and I'm learning more and more about their culture. It's all making me so excited I can barely contain myself. Life is rushing by so fast I can barely keep track of it. The people, the connections, everything. Flying so fast and slipping out of my hands. Impossible to grip.

We went and shopped around in some little local places, but all I can remember from today is heading down to the ocean. It was dark, and everybody was walking on the boardwalk with all the lights, and it was so so beautiful to experience. There was this little girl dancing to this song on a speaker with an old man and it was the sweetest thing I've ever seen in my whole life.

Then I ran down the beach, prayed about a few things, and asked God a few questions. The ocean really helps, and I know it sounds stupid, but it does. I asked God if I was in the right place, and that was a very clear yes. Wherever He leads me is where He leads me. I asked God another personal question, and although I didn't get a clear answer, I feel at peace with the outcome. Either way, God will make sure I'm happy. He won't let me fall, no matter what happens, no matter what I do, no matter what I go through. Because, at the end of the day, I can go back to him and cry out for comfort. Cry out for love, for wholeness, for a complete peace of mind, and trust that He will give that to me. I know He will.

Surrounded by friendly Spanish people, adorable little old ladies that kiss you on the cheek twice, and a Brooklyn-style town where everything is within walking distance, I feel at peace. I feel like travel, anywhere, everywhere, is for me. And if God wants me to travel, He'll show me where to go. And if God wants me to travel, He'll provide for me. Every single step of the way, through every little thing. Through the clay walls and buildings, through togetherness and loneliness, through people, through feelings, through incidents and accidents. He will be my God and He will hold me. And He will love me, and love me, and love me; more than any person or any thing on this earth can. 'Till I see everything I need to see, and do everything I need to do on this Earth. Amen and amen. 

9/7- your normal average day.

Day by day we’re still learning more and more about Africa. We got to apply it today and learn about the culture, which was really helpful to see what it would be like to be invited into someone’s house.

After that, the day was a blur. As per usual. I opened up about my life more than I should, and the nice old lady who is letting us stay in her church shared with us about the things she's seen while other Christians have visited her home. I cried, and cried some more. She talked about how she saw a muslim boy almost commit suicide just today (one of our roommates translated for us) and how she prayed for him and helped him. It's amazing how if you really stop to look around Spain, there's a lot you might miss and you might even miss the obvious hardships people are going through. It's just hard to tell when everyone speaks in a different language than you, and I think we let that build a wall and divide us too far.

Anyway, today was our last day of training, and tomorrow we're supposed to have a free day. I feel like my mindset has changed for a few things and it's honestly for the better. God is shaping me and molding me and I'm welcoming the change little by little, piece by piece.

9/10- I never thought I'd be here, ever in my life.

If I remembered half of what happened in the past few days, I'd be able to write it down. But as it is, life passes and I'm sitting here on my air-mattress bed on the church floor; unable to keep track with anything going around me. I feel like I'm behind the times, like everyone is able to stay one step ahead and I'm behind, forever watching from the inside of my mind. 

Oh yeah. We went to a Picasso museum, and I cried. The amount of beauty and awe from being in the place Picasso was born, let alone a museum full of his art, was enough to put me in shock. Never in my life did I think I would end up there. It was amazing, and beautiful, and sad, and the amount of emotions and raw beauty and art in that building was insane. 

There was this one specific painting in there, and as described, he told his wife to stand somewhere far off naked so that he could paint her, and he didn't even draw anything for those few seconds. He just stared at her and then knew what he needed to do, and told her to put her clothes back on. The way his brain works is so breathtaking, and I wish there was a better word for it that I could come up with, but my mind can't even spit it out. It was just beyond beautiful. The deterioration of the mind, the starting out of something beautiful and then depressing into something a child could draw, yet so much thought is put into it behind the scenes that we don't even see. 

I looked at everything through tears. Pablo Picasso sees; he sees the hurt, the sex, the idea of a woman, the world. The minotaur, the rape, the bulls' horns. The beauty of a person's face, the beauty of a person's body. The precious value of it, and then the fall. The deterioration of the mind.

After that, we went to a pizza & pasta shop owned by some of the people who go to the church we're staying at, and they blessed us with some food and talked with us and really showed us how friendly people can be. The warm hearts and housewarming was so friendly and welcoming, it all reminded me so much of Brooklyn. I will forever say that the tight roads, the people, the locks on the wall, the sky, the pigeons, all remind me of Brooklyn. And yes, maybe my writing is also deteriorating because so much has happened, or who knows, maybe it's just me. There's so much on my mind but at the same time there's nothing. Like I said, Picasso.