Bike Trip / Spain Journal #last

My trip is mostly over now. I can hardly think of what to say or write. I'm excited and sad, definitely, as I am inbetween things. By the time I am home, I will have ridden on seven planes, tasted three oceans and biked nearly 300 miles. I've lost and found myself, and celebrated that in full, ripped-out style. I crawled out of my reality to get to Spain, and that reality which I fly back towards is not what I left. Really, I feel powerful, vital, and vulnerable, and my future looks to be the set upon which I will rock, slow or fast, towards whatever awaits.

Bike Trip / Spain Journal #13

I'm leaving.
I'm leaving?
I'm leaving!


I'm leaving.
I'm taking the train from Córdoba to Málaga Currently, skimming the countryside on a long track. I left at 6:45pm, after planning to leave at 10am. I'm glad I stayed. I got to have a beer and a snack Rachel and Chloe. I ate caracoles (snails), and Chloe walked me to the train station. Rachel had left for work, and missed my snail lunch. I had a couple of hours to kill before departing, so Chloe and I walked and talked and had another beer. Well, I had two. I already miss her and Rachel. I'm sad, and excited. One of my co-workers told me I would come back a different person. I think she was right.

Málaga again. Yo tengo hambre, pero no se donde ir a comer pescado frito. Or something like that. I am short on time here, and I still have to figure out how to get to the airport, so I've decided to eat across the street from the train station. Hell, I just might take a taxi to make it easy on myself. My last meal in Spain: tortilla de Espaňa y ceviche y cerveza. There will be no postcarding from Málaga. De Dublin es vale.

Traveling is fun, but it also makes me anxious. Getting onto the transportation on time makes my pulse race. Speaking of which; gotta move!

Well, getting a bus was easy. And it was only 1 €!

This is a great, sad, wonderful, beautiful thing, my leaving Málaga, leaving Spain. It came and went, as fast as rain. I could be on a little boat in the ocean. I'm drifting back.

Bike Trip / Spain Journal #12

My time in Spain has gone quickly, though I also feel that I've been here a long time. I was enjoying a beautiful evening walk, moving slowly through the narrow, winding streets when I found myself in front of the Museo Arqueológico. There is a beautiful plaza there with patio seating for an adjoining restaurant. The last time I came, a bird popped on my shoulder. It did not stop my enjoyment of this peaceful place; I was obliged to stop again and have a beer and write something.

Plaza de Jeronimo Paez.

[On the next page, I made a sketchy pen drawing of the plaza from my seat. Perhaps, if this drawing runs into a scanner, I'll get it up here. There are a couple other little drawings that I'd also like to include, so I have some impetus.]

Bike Trip / Spain Journal #11

Last night, I was at a flamenco show at the Plaza de las Tendillas, up and leaning off a street lamp for a better view. I was swamped in the culture of the city, the region and the country. I watched two master flamenco dancers blaze through their routines while, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a three year old doing her own, equally intense dance to the music.

I thought of my life back in the states, and it seemed so incredibly small. There are no troubles. Salt dissolving in water, and steam rising, carelessly. I saw through myself, hanging from a lightpost.