Sunday, December 9, 2007

Yo Se

Yo se. I know. Not everything, of course, I am still certainly lost. But I know now where it all began, I know what broke, I know how and I know how to come back from it finally.

I am in Spain, in the North, in a navy town on the coast. Went with John to the Ciento party on Friday, with more men in uniform that I have ever seen up close. The town is quiet, though I would not say quaint, the tapas delicious and the coffee the way it is supposed to be (England could learn a thing or two). I spent this morning wandering the streets, only small bakeries open with those perfect, shining pastries that catch my eye and then threaten my tongue with their incredible sweet. I was followed at first by one dog, then more and more, until I had to duck inside of a newspaper shop to shed my strange dog-whisperer moment. I tried to feed the skinniest of all a crossoint but it rightly rejected it, sniffing my bags for meat. I wandered the streets that are filled with colored balconies, with signs warning of siesta, with cafe-bars and trees broken to their hearts (their stumps in place, long-armed branches split open at what would be wrists).

I spent last week in Berlin. It was different than I remembered, in certain ways, and yet the same place I left behind. At first I felt as if I had time traveled, and my most unfavorite friend, the fiend of nostalgia, tugged me back into that tumultuous summer. However, it was oddly peaceful for me in the end. It was returning to a site a love and reclaiming it, rebirthing it as a site I could love in the future, not only in the past. Went swimming with Ufuk´s little brothers, who curled up against us on the water slides, giddy with excitement at the smallest of things--splashing games, McDonalds, ice cream to which the elder of the two sighed...¨this is really wow.¨ Children never fail to remind me of the importance of tiny moments, of the worth of every subtle smile, every cuddle, every day.

The Christmas markets drew me in. I was unquestionably in love with the small stalls holding gluwein and gingerbread, the roasted chestnuts and silk scarves, giant santa clauses (Weinnachtsmann) lite up at night, pink cotton candy, ceramic boots.

We ate turkish food, many brunches, watched videos, wandered the city in the rain. I felt at home there, in Berlin, which for a moment relieved me of my fear of memories.

I am happy. I am happy here, happy in Europe, happy with the life I have chosen. There are things I miss, times that tickle with nostalgia, bent memories of life and laughing, of being home. And yet I am so much less afraid, so much more ok on my own, having broken free of attempts at perfection, having broken my heart more than once (and still come out in one full piece).

Today we drive to Porto and I will serve for Alvarinho and Quinta wine. I am looking forward to the rest of our trip, and then being home, curled up against my cat, seeing my new nephew all fat and full of life.