"I'm so happy here... How do I make myself feel this in America?"

I say this to Stella in my happiest of happy places, besides an empty movie theater or under a tree: the subway. 

Selfie-happy after I found
my lost hat last week.
Not so much re: my scarf

Paul A Young hot chocolate #obsession

We get back to London in time for Thai noodle lunch at Churchill Arms. (Thaiordie!) I make one last run into Central London to try and track down my favorite scarf that I lost on Fast & Furious Day. It's gone forever, so I grab a hot chocolate that I'm obsessed with (Paul A Young on Wardour St, don't miss it!) in consolation. Cashmere scarf tragedy notwithstanding, I feel great. Running around a city in the cold snap air charges me like those emergency room heart paddles. It feels like a great crush. I'm really going to miss London. 

Stella and I meet for Indian food at Dishoom in King's Cross. Family style, small plates, we order many, many, many dishes and do ourselves proud. We've elevated cleaning our plates from childhood compulsion to a skilled art. 

We have to say good-bye before she goes to bed because of her early work pick up. We agree my leaving is a stupid idea and hug. I love my best friend. 

Dishoom dinner. All the dishes wouldn't fi

Arriving at the airport early is becoming my thing, apparently. I've been killing so much time in airports lately, I don't even get bored anymore. A lentil and spinach pie, two pints of cider, and a tipsy candy raid of the airport store later, and my flight is ready to board. 

This bag is big enough to cover
both my knees.

My flight is relatively painless. I watch a few movies (ten minutes of American Women before I realize I want to watch it with my mom, 15 minutes of Passengers before I realize life is too short to watch a boring, insulting, misogynistic nightmare, The Girl on the Train, Why Him?, and the first half of Free Fire), misgauge my Ambien sleep window (hence all the movies), and finally drift off. 

I was going to do a list of things I've learned, like I sometimes do after a trip, but I've been pretty thorough in my writing. I did forget to mention the time I used the toilet in Harrod's and was so sweaty I blotted my face with toilet paper. When I exited the stall to wash my hands, my face was covered in a layer of toilet paper and I looked like a mummy. When you quickly try to roll toilet paper off your sticky face, it all ends up in your hair. What I learned: take your time when rolling wet TP off your face. 

Arriving in LA is bittersweet. It's not entirely home, but then when I fly to Austin in a few days that also isn't entirely home. Honestly, the last three weeks in Stella's flat, with my own space and my own schedule has felt like the closest thing to home that I've felt in months. It's no big deal, it's just the way life is playing out right now. 

Sometimes you have to admit, it's a beautiful world

One of the books I read in London was "Go Set a Watchman" by Harper Lee. It was a fascinating book to read right now, both with regard to the concept of home and what's happening in America. Basically, Jean Louise (Scout) is now in her mid 20s and returns home after living in New York to discover the home she understood doesn't exist anymore, not in her family, in her love, or in her town. 

This book takes place pre-Civil Rights, and the nationalism it portrays could be in any news story on any given day in the last year. Like Scout, every concept I had of home, be it personal, the country I thought I knew, my place in my family, has completely changed within the past year. The changes were traumatic because all growth is traumatic; but, if we don’t grow, we die.

Ready to cuddle with this mob

The book and my trip contextualized my state of mind. I logically and reasonably know through articles, therapy, logic, etc. that the last year (years? Decade?? Ugh, ok, all of life...) has been growing pain after growing pain however, I finally found my cathartic understanding through art and travel. In this moment, I’ve never felt more necessary as an artist and more thrilled to be a traveler. And that's nice.

Especially ready to hold this sour puss

I don’t know what comes next. This trip has been my finish line for the last five months, so I’m having a bit of the post-Christmas bummers. In a couple days, I’ll go back to Austin and curl up with our herd of cats and keep growing my voice and finding new experiences. 

Until my next trip... Thai or die! 

"I need to take off my pants and lie on this cold floor..."

...I say to Stella at dawn in the Madrid airport because I'm so tired that I'm nauseous and sweating. 

Bianca's dream home

Sunday: I have another chocolate breakfast. Dafne takes me and Stella on a walk to another nearby village while her parents and Luís pack up and close the house. 

Dafne is just like her parents in that she's a perfect guide, full of fascinating information about the area. She shows us the house I want to live in forever- it's built into the ground to look like a cresting wave of grass. One side and the roof is grass and the opposite side is all windows.  It's got gardens, a guest house and stables and a corral which means when I move in, I'll be able to have horses!

Dungeon door

Before we head to Madrid, Dafne shows us their dungeon. Their house is actually a mill from the 15th century and it still contains all the ancient hardware which extends down into the cellar. Of course, I fall in love with the dungeon. 

Inner dungeon

As we drive out of Sigüenza, we have to stop for the Easter procession as the town carries a resurrected Christ in reverence. No pictures, but I'm really happy we got to see the end of the story. 

The family drops Stella and me off at the Prado so we can squeeze in some art before we have to leave tomorrow. It's amazing, because world renowned art is, particularly Goya's Black Period and the Rubens. However, I don’t know if its because its Easter, but it seems like every other work of art is a crucifixion. Thank God Jesus had resurrection talents. 

Stella waits for me outside the Prado

I also notice a lot of torture and killing of women. I have an “Aha!” moment when I see maybe the fifteenth Adam & Eve representation, and I burst out to Stella, “That’s why men hate women! Because they blame us for everything bad because of Adam and Eve!” Stella’s reply was along the lines of, “Yeah. Duh…” I continue: “But I bet they made it all up because they were scared and jealous of what women could do with their bodies, so they had to minimize us to try and control us!” This earns another, “Yeah, duh.” type confirmation from Stella.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Or why this finally hits home right now. I’m not a total moron, I’ve been a living female for over forty one years - and by the way, my dislike of writing my age in print makes me want to vomit, thanks society, thanks Patriarchy, and fuck you both - but lately I feel like I’m seeing the world for the first time. So I guess I’m woke…? Which is also a phrase that makes me want to puke, less because of the millennial-ness of it all and more because I’m privileged enough to have been sleeping in denial, complacency, and ignorance. Which reminds me, I haven’t had my Lexapro today. 

A breath-taking sculpture of
mother & child by Maria

All my wokeness, plus the holiday crowds and being exhausted means we leave the Prado early to walk back to Maria & Will's flat. The city is much busier than I thought it would be on Easter. I'd imagined Madrid would be completely shut down in recognition of the holiday, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Because they also observe Easter Monday, Easter Sunday in the city feels like a big party. 

We make it to Will & Maria's flat without getting lost once, and I fall in love. I love Maria's taste and their home is my dream. What's incredible about spending time with Will, Maria and Dafne is they are a family of artists. Not only actors and Director's, but artists. Art is their life and it's expressed in how they live their lives, as well. It feels like home to be in an environment that values the things I value most in my life: reading, discovery, expression, creativity, beauty, space. 

Finally, paella!

Maria has arranged a flamenco show for dinner so we take a quick tour around their neighborhood on the way to the restaurant. Stella and I linger before a closed shoe shop with windows full of beautiful espadrilles. Maria casually mentions that store makes the best espadrilles in the country and it’s too bad we fly out before they open tomorrow. Stella and I agree. If we didn't have a good reason to return to Madrid, we have the perfect one now. We love a good espadrille. 

Nefi & Nefi-colored nails

In two different spots on our way to dinner, I step into a plaza and it feels so familiar. Then I find a landmark and each time realize I stood in the exact spot 18 years ago on my first trip to Europe. My recall sucks, but it's nice to know Spain burned itself into my soul enough for my body to remember until my brain catches up. 

Nefi kisses. I win. 

Now, flamenco. I bow to flamenco. I saw it years ago, but I've never seen it like this. I take no pictures. Every step, every snap echoes in my synapses and jams my mind so I can't do anything but feel these dancers pound out their individual rhythms and ride the Spanish guitar. I insist you fly to Madrid and go to Las Carboneras to experience God for yourself. Until then, here's a YouTube video- especially after 1:45 watch and have your mind blown. 

Spain Starbucks ftw

Maria says the best time to experience flamenco is after the restaurants and shows close when all the musicians and dancers meet at an after hours bar to jam together. Right then, I promise myself that we really will be back and we’ll be there.

Nefi finally sleeps with me - and not only because I locked her in with me - and give me cuddles. We only get a few hours of sleep before we have to leave Will and Maria’s for the airport. Once we check in (again, WE ARE SO EARLY), the fatigue hits and I can’t wait to get London-home. 

Creek POV of the dungeon...

When I move to Spain, I definitely want a wall & door combo. They're my favorite. 

Stella strolls past Lady Art

I love her.

"We're going to feed on Sigüenza people tonight..."

...says Dafne as Maria dresses down a belligerent Sigüenza restaurant manager.  

Us as cave drawings

Saturday: Nefi, Dafne's gorgeous kitten, is the only one  of us who manages to get out of bed before 11a. I love this cat. And if it's the last thing I do, she will love me too. 

Nefi watches me on the toilet

After a leisurely breakfast featuring many chocolate treats (biscuits, cocoa, bread) Stella and I join Will on a run into town for picnic supplies. Their village is too small for even a corner store (Dafne says a man drives through once a week to sell bread) so we go to Següenza. A stop at the butcher's for cheese, a stop at the produce stand for fruits and vegetables, and a stop at a tiny bodega that features pigs legs hanging on the wall for Jamón Iberico. (This is love, pork-style. Dry ham that can be cured for up to 48 months.)

WWII bullet marks

Every exchange includes pleasantries and catching up. At the produce stand there's a bit of a wait so when one of the salesmen notices me & Stella ogling tangerines he catches our eyes and tosses each of us one to enjoy. As we eat the juicy tangerines in the warm sun, Will, Stella and I recognize how the chit-chat would drive us bats in the city, but here in the country's leisurely pace it's makes us want to move here full time. 

By the church once again, Will points out the bullet holes around the church's windows. In WWII soldiers hid out inside the church and therefore the windows were prime targets. I remember when I traveled in Berlin (pre-9/11) and saw the WWII pockmarks all over the city, it was the first time any war felt real to me, more than a chapter in a history book. The previous evening Maria told me the US has been involved in 25 wars since WWII. I double-check and she's right. It's unfathomable to me that the US President is needlessly flirting with nuclear war with N Korea along with playing war with Russia, Syria and whoever else is around. I scan the plaza to see if there's anyone I can quickly marry, but no luck.

I told Will "sometimes when you visit friends you sit in a bar all day.
I like this better." He said, "Yes, we make you work for your bar time."

That afternoon we drive a short distance to a another nearby mountain. We hike a trail to the top and eat our picnic on rocks overlooking the valley. This hike is longer and the topography reminds me a lot of California hiking. On our way down the mountain's brow, Dafne finds our shadows on the canyon wall and we do a photo shoot. 

Sunset in the village

Master & subject

I'm feeling not terrific from the wine I drank yesterday so when Maria & Will decide we'll stay in tonight rather than going out to another dinner, I'm thrilled. It's not a proper hangover, it feels more like an allergy or my body recovering from a supertoxin. I'm exhausted and eating gives me body cramps. I KNOW, it sounds like a hangover. But trust me, it's not. Regardless, we try calling the restaurant four different times to cancel our reservation and no one ever picks up and there is no machine. 

Near 11p, as we're about to sit down to a dinner Will's prepared for us, we get a screaming phone call from the restaurant manager. My favorite line is, of course, Maria's: "If I can't get a hold of you to tell you we're canceling, what am I supposed to do, use magic? Telepathy? Osmosis?" The manager keeps calling her a liar, so Maria emails him the screen shots of their phone log and effectively terminates their relationship. She is amazing.