It's Real

Having had my own Spanish adventures I can say that the transformative effect of that Barcelona air isn’t just movie magic—it’s real.
-Melissa, Mostly Madrid 

Truest. Story. Ever.

The same has been said about Sevillla, and I assume therefore it will be the same for Murcia.

{Source}

I'm feeling a lot of things right now, mostly tepid excitement given the economic crisis. But ultimately, lo que será, será.

Jump

I haven't got much time to waste, It's time to make my way

I'm not afraid of what I'll face, but I'm afraid to stay

I'm going down my road and I can make it alone

I'll work and I'll fight till I find a place of my own 

Are you ready to jump
Get ready to jump
Don't ever look back, oh baby
Yes, I'm ready to jump
Just take my hand, get ready to jump

-Madonna, Jump, Confessions on a Dance Floor

  
I love Madonna, and this one of my all time favorite songs of hers. Part of the reason I love this song, is because it's the background music in the montage scene in The Devil Wears Prada, where Andie has clearly gotten her shit together, and is seen sporting several fierce winter coats [and I have a growing obsession with outerwear]. And the other reason I love this song, is because it's motivational anthem, which for the past 3 years, 11 months, and 15 days, has often been necessary to get my ass out of bed and into my office. It's a song I've played often in order to invoke that sense that "I've made it"and as an educated, gainfully employed, independent, and occasionally awesome grown woman, and I'm totally living some version of 'the life' ".

Not.

As I've talked about many times on this blog, I was never really feeling it. So I decided to do something about it. I thought, a new job, a new city, an amazing fellowship could all be mine with some perseverance, prayer, and the hardball determination. But that all turned out to be a bust, and some of my closest friends and my family can tell you, I did NOT handle it well.

So I withdrew to recoup and mourn the loss of what I thought I wanted. In the process I made a few bad choices [retail therapy, an epically bad dating experience, more retail therapy] and one phenomenal choice. I didn't realize at the time that that one decision would lead to a moment of sharing, and that the result of both would alter the course of my life.

But here I type, life course completely and forever altered.

It's finally happened y'all.

The Road Twice Traveled

If you had told me on this very day last year, as I was practically bursting with excitement, flitting around BWI's Airport with my sister and two of my best friends as we embarked on our amazing journey to Spain and Morocco, that I would return to Spain for a second time just ten months later, I probably would have believed you. If you had told me that I would vow to move to Spain (as did Alihah) after that first trip, I would likely have believed that too. I mean, who wouldn't vow the same thing after two weeks in Europe, most people have that reaction. Besides, I was very serious when I made this declaration, which I actually originally made in 2005, following my 5 glorious weeks of study abroad in Italy. However, in both instances when I made these declarations, something was missing and I'm not talking about the really important details of HOW, WHEN, WHERE or the fact that I speaka only English [for now]. They were missing something that made them real, something that tapped into the heart of the matter.  This missing something is probably, if not definitely, the reason why even after having declared my intentions to semi-permanently part ways with the U.S. of A for a second time last year, I failed to actually start my research on the mechanics of such a move.

A La Feria!

¡Buenos días mis amores! I know you're probably wondering what freakin' rabbit hole I fell into that would cause me to disappear for three weeks smack in the middle of telling you all about Spain. To be honest, I really did fall down a rabbit hole, and without going into further detail about it, I'm going to focus on what's important, and that is, of course, la feria!

España, We Meet Again



Beachside in El Puerto de Santa Maria

I'm baaack! Well, obviously I've been back. For a full two weeks now. But in typical me fashion, I've been wallowing in my "back from vacation blues", and just couldn't bring myself to blog. Actually, that's not true. I mean, I'm definitely suffering from the back from Spain blues--because Spain was legen---wait for it---dary! But unlike last year, I didn't actually cry at my desk when I returned to work nor seriously consider grabbing my purse, and fleeing my job, to never return. [no bullshiggity]. Oh no, this time, I came back determined to fulfill my vow to move to Spain, and started my research, while fighting on hell of a cold [damn, the Spanish love their cigarettes!]. And then it was Memorial day weekend, and I partied so hard that I got sick all over again. And thus I don't have the physical strength to put my air conditioner in the window. And here were are in the third day of an EPIC heat wave in which I have slept without air conditioning [and have been showering the poodle in cold water until he gets a hair cut], and I now finally have the mental capacity to begin chronicling my outlandishly awesome time in España. 

Just a Little Racist, Still Good, Still Good...

So as it turns out, our trip wasn't 100% unicorns, glitter, guapos and caramel vodka. The Spanish are kinda racist. I wasn't shocked nor overly upset about this reality. I know the world I live in, I know Europe, and I know what I look like. It's a harsh reality that us blacks and browns accept as a part of life. As Chele from Black 'n Bougie would say, "le sigh". But here's the thing, it didn't ruin my time, nor dampen my desire to move to España. Mostly because their racism was quite obviously based on ignorance and curiosity, rather than some of the uglier shit we see play out on the Fox News Channel or at Tea Party rallies on a regular fucking* basis here in the lovely U.S. of A!  It's not as if the Spaniards have a whole fucking "news" channel devoted to bigotry, ignorance, and pure shit spewing disguised as conservative political fodder, every fucking day of the year. They just don't know much about black folks in general and therefore make stupid ass assumptions based on whatever black media makes its way to their Spanish televisions, which based on my experience, I'm going to assume is rife with images of athletes and entertainers being the only type of black folks who go to the south of Spain and have four bedroom homes. Not that I'm excusing the Spanish for their hot-ass-mess-ness. Like really, our DWB was really un-fucking-necessary, as was the  personal inquisition at passport control in Sevilla's airport upon our return from Marrakech.  What I wanted to tell them was, "Do you see my AMERICAN passport? Don't you know that my president is BLACK?! It's NONE of your beeswax where I'm staying! And yes, my cousin has room for ALL FUCKIN FOUR OF US!" It was ridiculous, it was frustrating and still wasn't like some of the shit I've seen and heard in my own country or even my college campus! When they would stare, which really only happened in El Puerto de Santa Maria, it wasn't the type of stare that made you feel like, "Oh fuck, I need to take my black ass out of here". We were often met with quizzical stares, like, "this is new". Of course, walking in with my cousin, who is some what of a local celebrity, probably added to the staring. And not all the staring was bad, as indicated in the picture slide show in this post, ya dig?

But in spite of all of that, I still am going to live there (or Italy, I could do either), because at the end of the day, my black ass could still be very VERY happy living in España, occasionally dealing with racist motivated inquisitions as to my destination and/or whereabouts and rather ridiculous almost comical staring at my presence. Cuz Spain was hot shit like that, y'all. That's just what it is. And if mi primo, who is a tall, muscly, dark skinned, black American male can live there for five years and tell me that that's pretty much the worst of it, then I'll deal with it.

this song is so appropriate for that moment, and it wasn't planned, ha!

Oh, and some quick announcements: obviously, I didn't get around to a Soap Box Wednesday post today. Which means, I really need to get my shit together for next week, right?

I realize that I've given you a very one sided perspective of my trip, you know food, booze, partying, guapos, but no pictures of the scenery, which was freakin beautiful. Check out Hillary's blog for pictures of Barcelona, the story of Madrid,  and coming posts on Marrakech. FYI, I co-sign with Hill on La Sagrada Familia. It is the most amazing piece of architecture I've ever seen in my life, including the 5 weeks I studied abroad in Italy. It was breathtaking!

And one more thing. I'm gonna be featured as a guest blogger, on a very fabulous blog soon! Watch out blog world, I'm coming blog near you, with far more readers than mine, awww shit!

*I said fuck a lot in this post. Kinda hard not to curse when talking about racism, European or otherwise...

La Vida Española: the Good, the Rant, & the Caramel Vodka

*Disclaimer*
The following blog post is a melding of exactly how I feel at the moment, which is a mixture of excitement, hope, determination, nostalgia, despair, and anger. Of my own accord, I realize that merging of such topics into one post makes zero sense. But actually, it makes perfect sense. And besides, it's my blog, and I can rant and rave about hating my job and partying in Spain if I want to. I'm sure by now, I've made quite clear the awesome time I had on my trip.  I'm also sure that if you've been following the blog for a while, I've made quite clear that I hate my job, and have been on the relentless prowl for something better, which after 14 months, is still to no avail. Just a head's up, cuz it might get a little weird.

In case you missed it, I will reiterate that my two weeks in España and Morocco were magnificent.  Like unicorns and glitter magnificent.

The cousin's roommate. They both like to make faces, jajaja

see unicorn on his shirt +glitter on me [Actually, it's body shimmer from Victoria's Secret. It's a self indulgent, gratuitously girly, if not completely ridiculous body powder that makes me sparkle like an Oscar statue freshly spit shined by the 8 year old Taiwanese sweat shop worker that assembled it for 61 cents an hour. It is the single most fabulous thing in my makeup bag and most favorite cosmetic purchase of all time] =magnificent!

¡The we were introduced to Sobrasada!

My trip was so good, in fact, that my short time there only solidified what I've long suspected even before my first venture into Europe back when I was in college and even more so every time I return from there: life in these United States just ain't for me! Now one could say that this is just my inner bougie rearing it's ugly head. That of course I would want to up and move to España after having had a great vacation in the presence of great company, as most people feel that way when returning from really good vacations, especially to Europe. The only difference between me and those folks, is that I'm not bullshitting you. I'm currently hatching a 16-24 month plan, I've been forsaking TV for Rosetta Stone, and I've decided that I'm getting a new job by October [DO YOU HEAR ME UNIVERSE?! I WILL GET A NEW JOB BY OCTOBER. SCREW YOU AND SCREW THIS RECESSION. I'M DONE WITH MY BULLSHIT JOB. YOU WILL GIVE ME A NEW FUCKING JOB BECAUSE I'VE PUT IN THE WORK. I'VE GOT A FUCKING BINDER FULL OF SUBMITTED RESUMES TO PROVE IT YOU FECKLESS BITCH! I'M SMART, I'M A FAST LEARNER, I'M QUALITATIVE AND A RESEARCHER BY NATURE AND I YEARN TO BE CHALLENGED, APPRECIATED, AND NEEDED AT MY PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT! SO HEAR ME NOW, OCTOBER WILL COME, AND I WILL BE A NEW EMPLOYEE IN THE DISTRICT OF FUCKING COLUMBIA. GOT THAT? GOOD!] that pays a little better and doesn't me make dread getting out of bed each morning, so I can appropriately save for what will be an expensive transition and not be completely loony by the time I arrive in Barcelona.  Honestly, if a legitimate opportunity presented itself tomorrow, I'd be on a plane with the poodle and chuckin' Obama n' dem the the deuces, and giving my job [the building and the institution itself, not so much my coworkers] the finger and some other choice words, in Español, of course.

But back to the unicorns and glitter. [Yes I am going to completely resume my train of thought as if I didn't just completely lose it on the blog. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta!] You've seen the food, and I've touched on some of the best aspects, like the hot men EVERYWHERE [like even the garbage men were hot, several of them, hell even the gay men were hot, like "hot sthuff ssss!" hot], the partying, the warmth of the Moroccan people, and of course, the shopping.  But there was so much more to it. Imagine if say, the U.S. had a 25% unemployment rate. There would be rioting in the streets. Literally. Well that is the current unemployment rate in España, and the country is still standing, and people are still living their lives, and not committing murder/suicides as was tragically observed at the onset of the economic downturn here at home. It's just in my two weeks there, I got the feeling that the Spaniards know more about living their lives than we do. My cousin whose been there for five years agrees. There's just a jena sais quois about their lifestyle. It's hot shit. And I want to be a part of it.

And then there was the Caramel Vodka. I'm a boozehound, [cue Chelsea Handler] as indicated in these posts. I don't know if I've really made clear my obsession with caramel, but you should know, it's real serious y'all. Real serious. With that said, please enjoy the following presentation of tomfoolery and awesomeness, courtesy of carmel vodka, other various libations, and of course, guapos. The four of us sure did ;-]

It should be mentioned, that perhaps with the exception of my cousin himself, there is probably no one else more upset about his upcoming transfer back to the States than I am. I was really REALLY trying to get back to España before his return. But outrageous plane ticket prices are killing me right now.

Last but not least, have you signed up for the giveaway yet?  Yeah, take care of that here.