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 Besides, I was very serious when I made this declaration, which I actually originally made in 2005, following my 5 glorious weeks of study abroad in Italy.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.

So fast forward to my last three days in Spain. After the feria ended, the city was in hibernation mode. In the spirit of much needed rest and recovery, Labrone, Jason, Miriam and I took it easy. We went to the beach, and even after high winds, marginally warm temperatures, and intermittent sunshine foiled our beach day, we didn't stress about it.

We lazed about, we went bowling, we went to the bar and came home before some un-Godly hour, we drank mojitos, we went shopping (again) and on our final day in España, we meandered on over to our departure city of Sevilla. Having arrived in Sevilla several hours behind "schedule", [<---why do we even bother with that? I mean really, we were a car full of Spanish and Black folks...] I was feeling a little tense. I had crucial shopping to get done and there were a million thoughts running through my mind, none of which were, "I can't wait to get home". Quite frankly, I was not ready to leave. And then it happened. We finally found a parking spot, I got out of the car, stepped out into the blazing Andalusian sun, took in the scenery, which was dotted with orange trees in the midst of a bustling modern yet historic metropolis, and felt something click [and it wasn't my knee, for once]. I was home. That's what was missing. That feeling that this is not only where I want to be, but this is where I belong. I was elated. I relaxed a little. I immediately declared my revelation to companions. My cousin, Labrone seemed doubtful, but by the end of our night in Sevilla, he couldn't help but agree with me. Ladies and Gents, Senoras y Caballeros, I have found the destination of my destiny. Boo. Yah. [!]

I had a sneaking suspicion I would like Sevilla. Last year, we literally only saw the inside of Sevilla's train station and airport, and I was a little sad we didn't have time to explore this city. But if you had told me this time last year, as I was boarding onto our first flight [of 3 just to get to Barcelona!] that it would take me all of 30 seconds to decide exactly where I plan to park my future ex-patriot self for at least 2 years, I would have laughed in your face. Decisions of such magnitude often elicit a significant investment of time, research and list making, in order for me to feel comfortable. But yet here I type, speaking my future into action, and my future is in Sevilla. To say that I'm terrified when I actually think about what I want to do means--the sum of all its parts, the mind boggling logistics, the COST-- is an understatement. I'm practically shaking in my Jessica Simpson flats! There is also a small part of me that is scared that it won't happen. Like when I made a declaration to the universe last year that I would have a new job in DC by the Autumn of 2010 and yet 11 months later, I'm still literally dragging myself into the same job that is the source of much of my inner turmoil, each and every most days. But I know that everything happens, or doesn't happen for a reason, so I've begun to make peace with what didn't happen. And in that peace, I'm making strides toward greater things. I'm hesitant to say I have a "plan". Life is what happens when you're busy making plans, and due to my full blown ADD [self-diagnosed, not medicated] I'm more than likely to become distracted and distressed when my so called plans, inevitably turn out differently. Rest assured, there is a blueprint, but that's all I can say as of yet. The wheels in my head are turning, I'm praying on some changes hopefully soon to come, and the rest, I'm going to leave to God until I can see the picture more clearly. But hear me when I say this. Speak it. Live it. Luv it. (and pray too for good measure, because God listens, true story).

Happy Spainiversary Hillary, Odichi, and Alihah! We rocked the $hit out of that trip!