on moments.

DJ

2:30 am.  Can’t sleep.  Sensing I am awake and turning slightly, Dani gently places her angelic little hand over my eyelids and says, “Close your eyes,” wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling my head down on the pillow beside her.  I lay there for the entire two minutes it takes for her to fall back asleep and pull out my phone.

I had been reading his blog earlier that evening, and it was consuming my thoughts.  It brought back a flood of memories of a time when I was just getting to know him, of when my soul mate was once a total stranger.  I remember our first encounter.  Quiet and shy, with a bag of gummy candy atop his work station (I think mmm, candy… yay), I would’ve never expected to squeeze a conversation out of him, let alone become as close as we have.

He doesn’t open up so easily, nor quickly let anybody “in.”  It was just natural, the way we connected.  Many poets and artists with flourishing pens may have tackled the subject in centuries past, but actually experiencing it is a different occurrence.  It’s real.  It truly does happen.

I believe in faith and friendship, trust and kindness in a relationship.  When those are absent, what do you have, really?   A life without love.  And when one is in this sticky situation, is he or she expected to remain in it?  Do you not owe it to yourself to find that happiness, or at least keep trying?

I gaze upon this beautiful little being lying in bed, eyes closed, mouth partially open and think, wow, she is the product of us.  I am inspired and full of pride.  I did all right by her.

Sad Siesta

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It is now Friday evening. I kid you not, all we’d done in Spain for the first 3 days was sleep, eat, and wade in a pool.  This evening we visited a local pub for pizza and tapas- the tapas, which was one dish of curry and chickpeas, and another of pork stew, both with bread, was very tasty indeed.  The pizzas, however, were a soggy, mushy disappointment which gave me almost immediate tummy aches. I didn’t send anything back, however, due to fear they’d spit something nasty in the next attempt and/or give us bad vibes. I don’t dare show my rudey-tudes in foreign land unless absolutely necessary. I didn’t tip instead, though I would’ve, had I anything other than two loonies in my wallet.  Man, I’m so tough.

 Our Gibraltar trip, which I mentioned in the previous post, was amazing, and yesterday, Thursday, we visited a beautiful place called Tangier, Morocco.

The bus picked us up at our door again, and after another 1:15 ride (similar to the travel to the Gibraltar/Spain border), we arrived at the port. There, we boarded a ferry which had us in Tangier, the gateway city of North Africa and Europe, a little more than an hour later.
Just an hour away, but a world’s difference. It seemed like most of the walkways were paved in marble. The gated and mosque-shaped doorways reminded me of something I’d seen in Aladdin. And the people were very friendly, and even odourless, quite unlike the Parisiens who, I swear, stunk up entire subway cars first thing in the morning!  Another unmistakeable stench of Paris was of urine in the Metro, and there were no such offensive odours in Tangier, at least that I’ve quickly noticed.
Stuck to our tour guide and group, we wound through the tightly-knit streets, with a history lesson or two along the way. We visited a snake charmer but, after half a dozen others ran in and quickly clogged the lineup, ran out of time and I didn’t get a chance to hold the snake and take a picture with it 😦
Onwards we went, shortly arriving at a restaurant for lunch. There were musicians playing in one corner. We had a starter of soup (similar to tomato soup without the tomatoes, thank goodness), two meat skewers, couscous and chicken (tasted like a Filipino dish called Afritada, if you ask me), a sticky, floury, sesame-covered dessert that I didn’t care much for, and mint tea (didn’t care much for that either, because it tasted like warm toothpaste water). All in all, I enjoyed my lunch and finished every bite because, as those who know me personally are aware, I hate to waste food!
We continued along, visiting a shop selling rugs of every size along with wooden wares, wonderful marble chests, and handmade jewellery. One day I’d like to return and furnish my home with at least three or four of these beautiful items, including one small rug, but for now they’d be waaaay too expensive to ship home on my budget.
Our second last stop was to an aesthetics shop (I don’t know what the proper term is), where a very informed man taught us of the many oils, herbs, and lotions which were made of local ingredients (such as rose petals, saffron, mint, etc.). I bought some rose petal oil for my under-eye bags (it will perform miracles if these horrid things go away) and some crystals you can use to freshen your underarms AND your clothing, which smell amazing and seem to be keeping the odour away.  I realize how horrible and chemical-laden North American beauty products really are!  Ah well, what can you do, right? Certainly not fly to Tangier for the good stuff every week!
Our final stop was at the marketplace, where we had half an hour to bargain for small souvenirs. Afterwards, we got back on the bus and drove to the seaside where we could ride the camels (Dani was asleep in our laps and John has severe allergies, so we passed) and then to Hercules’ cave to take photos (Dani was still sleeping, so we passed on that, too).  Then we headed back to the ferry, bus, and were home by 6:30 pm, making it a 12 hour trip and worth every damn cent!
As I type, it is Saturday morning, and our last full day in Spain. I woke up extremely sad, and as I look over our pictures, Rome seems to have been an eternity ago and worlds away.  I wish we could hit rewind and start it all over again, even with all the hitches, exhaustion, and stressful beginnings.
We head to the beach shortly, our first time, since we didn’t get there earlier this week as planned. Then tomorrow afternoon we fly to Dusseldorf, Germany, for one last overnight hurrah before we head to Toronto on Monday morning.
Sad, sad indeed. (insert crying here).
And damn you, soggy pizza. My stomach hurts.