People we meet

It is funny how every single person you meet, does something with you, has in influence on you in one way or another. They shape you in how you behave in your next encounters or how you deal with your past or future problems. Still, it goes widely unnoticed. We draw upon previous experiences before we enter new ones, making every single one of those moments unique. People you meet can be interesting, funny, weird, disarming or just so, so very special in a way you cannot even begin putting it into words or writing. Unconsciously, people can give you a piece of advice that lasts a life time, or they can make you – even if only for a short period of time – feel worthy of their attention, which honestly is one of the greatest feelings in the world.

A roundabout of disillusions

I just do not get it.
How can one’s thoughts and feelings be so far apart from one another? While my mind is running off to a fairytale, right in the arms of my prince charming, my heart is drifting off into an entirely different direction – a far less positive one.
Will I be able to force my heart in a certain pre-scripted plot, or should I let it make a detour and just wait until it gets back on the right track, whichever one that might be?
A good friend warned me for this long before. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. I was highly convinced that I should know what he, my prince charming, wanted from me, had in mind for us and hoped we would become, before I made up my own mind about those things. Well, turns out I was wrong, my friend was right. I should have thought it through and sorted it out before I told him I had any doubts in the first place. As a result, it now feels like I am not following any path at all: neither my mind’s, nor my heart’s. Instead, I am stuck on a roundabout of disillusions, hope, fear and a highway jammed with uncertainty. I am lost. The true problem here is that no one has a map to guide me through this: I am all by myself on this one.

Dusty photographs

I do not want these memories to fade... I do not want them to be replaced by other ones, or stay forgotten in the back of my mind, like old, dusty photographs in an attic.
Photographs are just captured details: fragments of an experience, and stories really are just ink on paper sheet. Memories, however, have the ability to take us back in time and let us relive moments of the past. The mind tricks us into being there again, smelling, seeing and feeling the same things as in that very moment. The past few weeks I have created memories I want to remember and relive over and over again, even the boring, sad or painfull ones, because overall, I have learned so much from these weeks, in every possible sense of the word. I have learned about a city, a language and a culture. I have also learned a lot about other people, but most of all: I have learned about myself.
Mixed feelings about leaving this place behind are overwhelming me. Even though going back home is not something I want, I will keep moving forward, although in life it really is only possible to move forward. But every now and then, I will let my memories take over and take me back to those times. Those good old times.

Double identity

Shiny, sweaty faces all around me, tourists who are desperately looking for some street, the locals desperately trying to get to work on time as I walk through the city. The city in which I no longer am a tourist, but a temporary citizen.
With confidence and without a map I make my way across the plazas filled with lost, wandering people with confused expressions on their faces. I adjusted my customs to the local ones, and seeing people have lunch at 12 and dinner at 6 now makes me grin: I used to be like that, like them. A tourist. Feeling at home apparently also shows on the outside as I noticed: people start asking me the way, or ask for advice on where to go for a proper traditional dinner. Of course I answer them, pretending to know it all, as if I have lived here my whole life.

It only gets hard when I am dealing with foreigners and locals at the same time. For the former, I belong to the latter, but for the latter, I am still, and will always be a foreigner. I must say though that for now, I enjoy having that double identity: it gives me the best of both worlds.

(Not so) Pointless Nostalgic

I am still surprised by how smells and tastes can instantly bring you back to a certain memory, a sudden feeling of nostalgia creeping up your spine.
For me, the taste of yoghurt with fresh peaches or melon takes me back to the care-free family vacations in Spain in the summer: after a long day of visiting cities, villages, beaches and museums we would go to the local supermercado and treat ourselves to all things nice: a good bottle of regional wine for my parents, and local treats or delicious ice cream for me and my brother. On the tiny camping stove outside our tent, my mom would cook simple, yet amazingly tasty meals with tortillas, chorizo and so much more. The true treat was the dessert: a big bucket almost filled with rich yoghurt. At the table we would all grab some summer fruits and start chopping up melons, slicing peaches and cutting apricots, which – once put together – created a perfect ending to a perfect day. Usually these dinners were accompanied by gorgeous sunsets over the sea, right at the point where the world seems to end or bend. If not, the soft sounds of rain on our tent and some candles would do the job and create a soothing, cozy atmosphere.
Now, living on my own, in a big city far away from Spain, my parents and the ocean, it are those little moments that ease me and allow me to take my mind of things – even if only for a while.
The truth is, though, we can do a lot of things to create those moments, because just admit it, we are all suckers for nostalgia occasionally. All I am saying is: go to the store and buy the things that will make you appreciate your previous experience -- while making sure to create even more and better new memories in the near and far future! Once you have grown old, you will have a huge array of tastes, smells and other things at your disposal to dream away to the good old days, and that would just be perfect, wouldn't it?

Nightmares, dreams and nighttime fairytales

I’m a weird-dream specialist. Honestly, I have weird dreams about three times a week. Usually it becomes evident right when I wake up that something is just wrong, I can wake up angry, I can wake up in love, I can wake up in tears. After half a minute, maybe a little more, that wears off and I realize that what felt so real just moments ago, was in fact just a dream. The other day I dreamt that my Mom told me to “stop being such a bitch all the time”. Just this morning I woke up thinking that I was best friends with a classmate, who I absolutely cannot stand. Once I woke up in the middle of the night, my cheeks and pillow wet from my tears because I thought my Dad had died. When I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt that my Mom passed away too, that morning I woke up as an orphan, so when I came downstairs I was so happy to see my parents sitting there.

I once visited a doctor, kind of an alternative doctor, because I had been ill-ish for 8 weeks and antibiotics did not help. I could tell she was quite the alternative doctor: she started to ask questions like ‘do you ever have weird dreams’, ‘do you sweat a lot’, ‘do you have itchy feet’? She then graded my personality silver. I tried convincing her that really my personality was GOLDEN, but no, that did not work out. The point is that ever since I visited that doctor, I just kept wondering about what those dreams had to do with my health. Or what dreams have to do with anything at all, since they hardly ever seem to make sense.

For quite some time I wrote my dreams down into a notebook that I kept on my nightstand. As soon as I woke up I would write everything I remembered about my dreams, thinking that maybe they would make more sense then. Recently I found that notebook, and I started reading. The strange thing was that from every dream, I could recall the exact feeling I had when waking up that morning. The best ones were the ones about traveling (and I can tell you it were a lot of them), when I woke up I felt like I had been away for 4 weeks, to Morocco, Egypt, Australia or the Dominican Republic and I would just feel so… Satisfied. Or content, or happy. Words cannot really describe the feeling that well. But I am pretty sure every single one of us has had those moments: when everything is just right.

Bottom line is: dreams may not have a function of themselves, but we can certainly give them one. Learn from the bad ones, and reminisce the good ones, to get that perfect feeling back when you need it.

Those people

It is during the tough times, the rough periods and grey eras of your life that you get to know the people around you best. You will find that some are there when you need an optimistic view: they will cheer you up when you are feeling down by making you laugh about silly YouTube videos. Some will let you sob in misery and acknowledge that it is okay for you to feel horrible, because life simply seems horrible at times: they will cry with you and play horrible dramatic songs that make everything seem even worse.

The persons, however, that you will appreciate most are the ones that can see not only what you want, but also what is good for you. Sometimes it is not okay to be sad about something for a long period of time, sometimes you just need someone to kick your ass, set you on fire and make you live again, even if that is not what you want.

Those people, the ones that always have your best interest in mind for the long term; the ones that have your happiness in mind, and not mere short-term satisfaction; the ones that will not only listen, but also argue with you and get mad at you:
those are the ones that we can call true friends.

See beneath the beautiful

He asked me: ‘why are we always looking for the perfect person, while we will never find them, while we will have to settle for less?’ I asked him: ‘does that bother you, knowing that you are going to end up with someone who isn’t perfect?’ He said it did not bother him, but as I looked into his eyes I saw a different answer. His eyes told a different story than his mouth, and at that moment I was the only one able to hear that second story, the untold. I wanted to tell him that we do not need someone perfect, but all we need is someone that treats us as if we are. I knew that this sounded too much as a line from a Nicholas Sparks novel, and not enough as the truth so I kept my mouth shut and nodded while I rested my head on his shoulders. Without saying a word I thought about how I wanted him to be that person for me, how I wanted him to know me in my purest and most selfless forms. And I know that there will always be flaws, errors and tiny mistakes, but the true goal is to find a person who looks beyond your beautiful and who actually appreciates your inside and every bit of it. Right there and right then, I felt like I had found that person, it was him.

Some people can make you feel that way, as if you were perfect. It will be the man who takes your breath away, but gives you a whole lot more back for it. It will be the man who is not afraid to show you his weakness, his struggles, his pain and more important, even: his love for you. You need to give that man a chance though, because too often we do not recognize him at first. He built the walls around him, but it is up to you to break those down, brick by brick until you know him as well as you know yourself.

For a moment I thought I had found him. My guy. The guy I needed. Even though in the end it did not turn out the way I had wanted it too, that small moment gave me some kind of hope. It is a feeling I like to recall: that moment when it finally seemed like my jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces had been put together into a coherent whole. I know now that I do not have to search in order to find, that I do not need to reach out in order to get help, but most of all: that I do not have to ask in order to get an answer to my questions.

Midnight chatter

Picture this: a winter night, along with hail and temperatures way below zero. After a party he asked her to sit with him for a little while, even though it was 4 a.m; it did not matter to him. As he saw her hesitant smile he added: ‘it is just hanging out, nothing else’. Somehow his words reassured her and made her say yes. He told her he was taking her to one of his favorite places in the city, where he often sat to think. Along the banks of the river, they sat on a bench, their teeth clattering from the cold, but it was okay. He offered her his headphones to at least keep her ears warm, an adorable and thoughtful gesture coming from this big, tough guy who turned out to be so kind once you got to know him.

After chatting for a while, he asked her a question. The exact words she could not remember, but the answer he was expecting was one she could not even provide that easily. He had asked her to define herself, as a person. Such a seemingly simple question got her mind working over-hours and left her wondering if she was supposed to know this. Was she expected to have her answer ready just like that? True, she never had any trouble answering any other questions quick, whitty and smart, but this was different.
She sat there for some time, thinking. Meanwhile a boat passed by, making waves in the water, turning the river into somewhat of an ocean for just a little while. Finally, she explained to him who she had been, who she could be and who people thought she was.
Silently she was hoping that he did not notice that the true answer to his question had never come.

A while ago

Silently falling, the last leaves from the trees. Autumn has done its job, now it is time for the winter, in all its dashing white glory, to arrive in this country. This country where everyone complains about the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer and the rain in spring and fall. This is the land of the indecisive people that never seem to quite wrap their minds around how to behave out in the open. Skirts and tops that are way too revealing, or double jumpers and long underwear that make people sweat in public, everything is possible here.

In this world of seemingly available possibilities though, I am stuck. Stuck because I do not know where to go next. Where else will I be able to find a home as warm and comforting as I have right now, right here? It will be an absolute challenge to find something quite like this. But is that even what I want? Something similar? Similar things will bring similar problems and similar bores. To be honest, I do not think I can handle this kind of boredom again. Of course, it will also bring similar joys. However, maybe it is the point to find joy in other things, in other situations, where I am not yet used to everything. It will be challenging, it will be hard at times, and it will be disappointing at times, I am fairly certain of that. Finding happiness in a new surrounding and in a new setting will give me a more fulfilled feeling, a feeling of an actual achievement even. At least, that is what I hope.

And then, after a while, there will be the day that I return to this country and all of a sudden I will see how small my world had been before I left. It will probably strike me how simple life had been thus far, in this country where people are brutally honest about strangers, but painfully silent about people they know. Where and when I will start this new experience is something that is hard to say. I will have to arrange it, though; I cannot just let it come, because it simply will not just come. Cautious planning and careful thinking will get me there, but most important of all: my motivation. My motivation will get me wherever I want to go.