To blog or not to blog.
Goodbyes in Los Angeles.
There is not much to say here that won't induce tears. Well, my tears anyway. Living in Los Angeles, there are transplants everywhere you look and I've been to dozens of goodbye parties. With this experience, I thought I would be slightly prepared, but my actual departure was much worse than I anticipated. When others leave, I think... no problem, now I have a new place to visit. However, when I was the one leaving, I found it incredibly heart wrenching to leave the little Venice beach life I created and all the amazing people that filled it. Lots of tearful goodbyes. No regrets on my decision though. It's simply a new chapter and I'm determined to stay connected with my LA favorites while branching off to a new life.
The Flight...
At the airport, I was a bit of a teary mess after saying goodbye to my dear friend, Amanda, at the curb. In my defense, (1) Amanda is amazing and (2) the whirlwind few weeks leading up to departure included: organizing a long list of last minute details, shipping select items from the post office, packing my life in two large bags, selling off the rest of my two bedroom apartment that didn't fit in my travel bags, wrapping up work, moving out of my apartment, preparing for and doing job interviews via Video Conference, trying to balance quality time with my mom (who thankfully flew in to help me and who I credit for ensuring everything got done in time), and saying goodbye to friends and loved ones. This is enough to throw anyone into an emotional roller-coaster. My last day at the office was actually also my last day in the country. I spent the morning selling my car, finalizing work details and fitting in my last Google massage (which is something to be appreciated and is already desperately missed), while my baggage waited for me in the garage. Amanda picked me up from the office and drove me straight to the airport. In hindsight, my tight schedule might have been a little aggressive and I might recommend someone else give themselves a little more buffer time before departure.
At check in, even though I was hiding behind oversized sun glasses, I'm pretty sure the attendant could tell I had been crying. He was in his late 30s/early 40s, tall, gentle and looked possibly Indian. With an understanding smile, he waived my overweight baggage fees, assigned me a better seat and told me the best place to get a snack before boarding. At this moment, I determined SWISS airlines to be the best airline around. I used to fly on a regular basis for work domestically, have also done a lot of international travel as well, and have never had such a pleasant experience. It didn't stop at check-in, the flight attendants were very accommodating and everything inflight was FREE. They started us off with happy hour cocktails before coming around with snacks. The food was also a pleasant surprise. Appeared to be fresh and, to my delight, had various vegetarian options. Soon after, I was in a Valium induced semi-coma, so it's hard to tell if the service dropped off mid-flight. Either way, I'm still super impressed with my experience. This type of service used to be the way of all international travel, but today, most airlines opt for nickel and dime policies. Cheers to SWISS for keeping standards high. You will now be my preferred airline.
ESPANA.
My move date, departing March 31 - arriving April 1, was specifically set so Pedro and I could still make Easter holiday in Spain while allowing me to finish off my quarter at work. This is the major reason for the tight turnaround in my travel agenda. With only a short 12 hours in Copenhagen, I fit in a shower, dinner, time to rummage through my overflowing bags to pack for another trip and a nap. At dawn, Pedro and I were again lugging bags downstairs and a few blocks to the metro on our way to CPH airport.
Barcelona.
First destination is Barcelona. This is my first time in Barcelona. Even though I'm in a jet lag haze, I'm wearing a smile and happy to be discovering a new city with my love. While Pedro and I are scurrying around the airport looking for his friend, David, we see a little white car drive past us at race car type speeds. I don't pretend to have my miles to kilometer conversions down yet, but let's just say it was going incredibly over the speed limit. So much so that the car was getting impressive air time after each speed bump. About ten minutes later, we're on a shuttle to another terminal and see loads of policia surrounding one, presumably dead, policeman lying on the ground surrounded by glass. Quite the first impression of Barcelona. Shortly after, I asked David what kind of city he was living in where runaway cars are murdering the police at the airport arrival area.
We then settled into David's apartment near the city center. He has an amazing little spot with a terrance and a loft where Pedro and I stayed. Day one consisted of a nice lunch with some traditional Spanish food at David's place, a siesta, a walk and then a dinner out followed by many drinks at different bars around town. David is an English teacher in Barcelona and is gracious enough to speak English in my presence. This, especially at first arrival, is a very comforting welcome. One major thing of note that I have a hard time with in Spain - besides my struggle to communicate - is the smoke. You can smoke anywhere, in front of anyone - babies, little kids, people eating - it doesn't matter the circumstance, the Spaniards will smoke 'em if they have 'em. I'm pretty sure my clothes still smell even after a proper wash.
Day two of Barcelona, David showed us around to some of the touristy areas to give me a proper feel of the city. We took a few photographs, saw some Gaudi buildings, went to an incredible market, and stopped at various bars/cafes for espresso/beer and tapas. It seems to be a common theme to stop at a different cafe each hour. I particularly like this slow relaxed pace. Things I'm really learning to enjoy: siestas and cafe breaks... and of course, Spanish food. It was also nice not to have pressure to fit everything in, as we plan to come back to Barcelona a few times each year to get breaks from the weather in Denmark. In time and with a true Spanish style, I will learn this city. From what I saw on my first visit, I can definitely see why people love Barcelona. Now on to Murcia!
Murcia is in the south of Spain, south of Alicante, and is where both Pedro and David grew up. This is now my second visit to the city and for some reason, it looks better the second time around. Maybe it's the sunshine, but this town is growing on me. It could also be the holiday week that made the city come alive. My first visit to Murcia over Christmas was a bit stressful due to my major deficiencies with the Spanish language and that it seemed that NO ONE in Murcia spoke any English except David and Pedro. As you can imagine, this is especially difficult for Pedro who had to translate every conversation I had. I tried shouting out the few words in Spanish I knew, like a caveman, and followed with charades. My best attempt at sentence structure. Pretty primitive. Pedro's friends and family must think he found a real "special" girl. Pedro's dad still teases me about how I demonstrated a flying plane by extending both arms out straight and tilting from side to side. To avoid further embarrassment, I quickly learned the word "avión."
This time around, after day 4, I start feeling more confident with my Spanish and actually attempt real sentences. Pedro helped coach me and I practiced out loud to perfect my pronunciation. Attempting to really WOW his parent's, I asked them, in what I thought was perfect pronunciation, to join us for dinner after we landed. With a look of total confusion, they just stared at me and said "Que?" Pedro repeated exactly what I thought I said and then they seemed to understand. A couple different options for what could have happened here: (1) they have absolutely no confidence in my ability to pick up the language and immediately dismissed my attempt or (2) I'm completely tone deaf. On reflection of feedback from my rare, but strong karaoke renditions of Jon Bon Jovi's "Wanted" or of STYX's "Mr Roboto," I'm starting to think that maybe my Spanish doesn't sound the same to others as it does in my head. I pride myself on performance rather than my vocal skills. At dinner, Pedro left me alone with his parent's and sister for what might have been 5 minutes to park the car, but it felt like 30. The three of them sat there and stared at me. While I think I understand a great deal of Spanish at this point, they have a pretty thick accent and I'm obviously a failure at responding properly, so without Pedro it's pretty much a disaster. Panic starts setting in as they never seem to hesitate to speak freely to me in Spanish, even though my translator is missing. As the only gringa in the open-air restaurant, it's obvious to everyone around that something is a miss with this situation. I have no idea what they are saying to me and while I'm fidgeting around frantically looking for Pedro, they just continue repeating their sentences, just louder the second time around, which doesn't really help. Finally, Pedro comes back and resumes his role as translator throughout dinner. After dinner, we grabbed some paparajortes (which is father had to repeat to me several times... each time louder and slower - PA.PA.RA.JOR.TES!!! in which, each time, I replied, "que?"). Having never heard of this dessert in my life, it wouldn't have mattered if he had a megaphone. This still makes me laugh. Even with the language barrier, I really like his family.
This visit proved me wrong about the English capabilities in Murica. The last day in Murcia, to my delight, I met a few of Pedro's friends who spoke some English. They helped me practice my spanish and now my comprehension is rapidly increasing every day. With great happiness I can say that Pedro can no longer speak freely in front of me in Spanish without worry that I'm listening and understanding.
Lunch is at 3. Dinner is after 9.
Schedules are a bit different in Spain than I'm accustomed to. My jet lag is still pretty strong a couple days into the trip. The good news is that I'm in Spain and siestas are appreciated... usually. The bad news is the more I nap, the longer it feels like the longer it takes me to recover. The last couple days on our visit, there is absolutely no time for naps or breaks. We had power days with a full agenda of errands that completely wore me out. We planned on lunch with his immediate and extended family, which started promptly at 3:00 PM. The three hour "lunch" was filled with very fast paced Spanish and I was too tired from jet lag to try to follow the conversations. These are situations where "lo siento, no habla espanol" is perfect. I simply smiled, ate and zoned out.
Sometimes, I also like to believe that I have a stomach of steel, which is stupid because after being a Pescetarian for the past three years I should be pretty aware that I have a hard time processing meat. While avoiding meat and quickly learning "sin carne para mi," I still dove face first into everything else represented on the table. Which is also probably why his mother, who barely comes up to my waist, made a comment about me having to eat twice as much because I'm twice as big. Although I thought I was in normal consumption ranges, I am American and I did wait until 3 to eat lunch, so I probably did binge a bit. This resulted in stomach pains that took my reserved quiet composure to a rushed disagreeable temperature. I couldn't get out of there fast enough and when I realized I've been sitting in silence, listening to spanish with a disagreeable stomach for over 3 hours, my mood got increasingly sour. I'm sure my first impressions with the extended family are now probably at an all time high. Although, they did repeatedly ask when, exactly, we were planning on having babies. I take this to mean they must like me a little. It was past 6 when we left and when we made dinner plans for after 9 that night. Thankfully, dinners are light meals.
Bando de la Huerta. The whole city celebrates.
The last day we were in Murcia participating in "Bando de la Huerta" was by far the best day for me. People drive in from all the surrounding areas come to Murcia and dress up in distinctive costumes for the celebration. Pedro had an extra outfit for me, which was so fun. Next year, I want to splurge and wear a Spanish dress. A couple of his friends looked like Spanish princesses and I had costume envy. The party starts early in the day and goes until dawn. I don't think I saw any other obvious tourists there all day besides me... even though I was in traditional costume, my gringa blondie looks give me away every time. The entire day was a massive city wide party! We wandered around downtown, danced in the streets, danced in bars, ate lots of tapas, walked through the parade and visited with Pedro's brother. Fortunate for the people of Murcia, I gave them a little taste of MY traditional dance moves. I like to think they were well received. I took their blank stares as a sign of approval and encouragement. Bando de la Huerta was an excellent way to end our visit and I look forward to next year!
More about Bando de la Huerta:
This celebration is part of the Spring Fiestas in Murcia, and will allow you to enjoy the typical customs and traditions of this fruit and vegetable growing region.
The “Bando de la Huerta” celebration comes on the first Tuesday after Easter, coinciding with the most important day of the Spring Fiestas. It consists of a parade of oxen-drawn carriages and booths from which the participants, known as "huertanos", throw food at the spectators. After the floral offering to the Virgen de la Fuensanta, the parade begins through the streets of the city, accompanied by local folk groups and associations.
Back in København.
One week in Spain and now back in Copenhagen. It's only officially been my new home for one week and I spent the entire time in Spain, but when we landed it felt good to be home. The first day back, the sun was shining and it was beautiful out. It felt like a crisp fall day, which is a drastic comparison to my old home of Venice beach where I'm sure my friends are already in bikinis and frolicking on the beach. With Pedro at work, I settled into the apartment and then bundled up in my scarf and jacket to wander the city. I met Pedro for a coffee and we went to the post office together to pick up my goodies. I shipped 7 small/medium sized boxes of special items I insisted on not leaving behind. Regret started to hit when we had to lug them up to our fourth floor apartment. 72 steps. up and down. over and over again. However, once I got everything upstairs, happiness returned. I unpacked all my goodies and started getting organized. It's strange merging yourself into someone else's established space, but it must be done. There are also a considerable amount of changes to make to the decor of the apartment. In time, this place will be girl friendly. Why must all single men have black leather couches? I'm slowly making progress in this bachelor pad, but unfortunately new furniture is at the bottom of the shopping list. Conquering my to-do list is first... get a job to pay for said couches. I have money saved and should try to relax, but my to-do list seems longer now than it was when I was gainfully employed.
Work never stops. My second day in the city I had a business meeting lined up already. No need laying about. I'm considering starting working as a consultant for an interesting start up. Options are endless for my new adventure. I have another meeting lined up tomorrow to discuss part-time summer employment to keep me busy. One thing is for sure... life is not boring here. Pedro likes to watch movies before bed, and of course CNN, but other than that, I haven't watched any television. This to me feels like progress.
Poker is International. Friday night we went to Pedro's friend's house for dinner. Not only is Pedro an incredible cook, his friends also have exceptional skills in the kitchen. Miguel is Columbian and cooks to perfection. I'm a beginner in the kitchen, but with these chefs around I'm starting to learn. After a delicious meal, we settled into Texas Hold 'Em, which made me feel right at home as this is a family favorite in the States. More happiness.
Saturday. Countryside. Horses. Castles. Amazing. We went for a trip to the Danish countryside on Saturday to visit a friend's home. The drive was beautiful. Another gorgeous day in Denmark. We stopped at a cafe by the Queen's Summer Castle for a bite to eat first. Then we visited the gorgeous farm that Pedro's friend works on. The house was really stunning and is positioned on acres of rolling green grass, right off a beautiful lake. There were different buildings around the property for feeding, riding, etc. with plenty of room for the horses to run and graze outside. The day was perfect. Blue skies and vibrant green grass. I think 14 horses in total.
Peeping Toms. Sunday was a day of organizing the house. It's amazing how a man so accomplished and organized in life can simply overlook some glaring issues in his house. I found an area behind the sink that has never been cleaned, a vent that had collected dust for at least 4 years and windows that you could barely see through. After a quick trip to IKEA and power tag team style spring cleaning, things are starting to come together. After spending, what seemed like hours, doing dishes at the sink, I realized not many people in the buildings across from us use window coverings. I can clearly see these people and identify what they are up doing on a regular basis and they can also see me. Our bedroom has blinds, but the living room is a free for all. I've already seen more than one naked neighbors drinking their coffee in the mornings. I've started a shopping list of must haves for the apartment and living room blinds are at the top of priorities. Over the past couple days, I started collecting lifestyle details about our neighbors while cleaning, but first noticed the transparency after dancing in my skivvies in the living room. Pedro kindly announced that there were 2 danes across the way watching me and I might want to consider taking my little dance routine to the other room. Perfect. Already making friends with the neighbors. I wonder what they think of me in the mornings when my short blonde hair stands straight up. Some sort of American life-sized blonde troll doll.
Back logging blogs for 12 days is exhausting. That's it for now.
I enjoyed the blog, Kelly! Congratulations on your move. I know it must be a crazy adjustment, but it sounds like you have great support. I look forward to reading more about your adventures. Good luck!! :)
ReplyDelete- Katrina
Thanks, Katrina!! Good to hear from you!!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE IT!!! You are a fantastic writer. Miss you so much! xoxox
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