Peace Ibiza!

As I sit in the Ibiza airport and wait for my flight to take me back to Barcelona, I have to admit I’m nervous. There really is no rational reason for it, and I’m trying to remind myself that there’s nothing to worry about. When I think about the direction I’m heading in today, the direction of “home”, I stop and wonder what home is all about. Just a couple of days ago I received word from my roommate that her boyfriend is coming to live with us, just while he’s “looking for work in Barcelona, and then he’ll find a place of his own”. Well, what can I say to that? Do I have a choice in the matter? It really is her place that I'm renting a room in, and if the roles were reversed I would probably be doing the same thing.  But my warning flags go up.  When I get there, a strange man (who is probably very nice), will be sharing the tiny apartment with me. I can only think that it will really feel like it is “their” space now, and I am just occupying a room in it. Had I known that having Pam’s boyfriend come to live with us was a probability, I would have thought twice about living there. Less than 700 sq.ft. between three adults and a cat, only one bathroom, and probably very different time tables... these are the obvious negating factors. The hidden factor is that I’m just not ready to live with a man. The last man I lived with was my husband, and all others are just totally strange to me right now.  It feels just plain wrong to live in such close quarters with one. (No offence fellas, eh?  You understand, right?)  :)

There is a chance, of course, that all will be well when I get back to Barcelona and that I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill. We may all get along famously, who knows? But I have to admit that my instinct is to get the hell out of there quick like. Pam and I already have a very honest friendship, and I’m sure that we will be in discussion about this when I get “home”.

Ibiza has been so awesome. It has been raining cats and dogs for the most part, which is strange not just to me but to everyone else here. The roads are flooding, people get caught under awnings and just have to stand there for a while, awestruck, watching the pounding rain. I did get three kick-ass days of sunshine though! And I hear the weather is quite nice in Barca right now too. So all is good. Last night at the last minute I went to the We Love Space Closing Party, and it sucked big time. Sloppy, disgusting muck-fest is what it was. It was pouring rain on the Terrace, for one, and two, everyone in there either had cross-eyes, googly eyes, or bloodshot eyes – except for me that is. I was the only one sober enough to know that the music was shite! Several rooms and not one of them spinning anything worthy of bootie shakin’. Hmph. I don’t think I’m interested in ever going back to that hole of a “club”. Give me Pacha, Amnesia, and even Privilege any day! I’m done with crappy bars.

So today I spent my time roaming around the island, free as a bird again, and dropped by to say “adios” to Alok and Shelu. I hope its not long before I see them both again. I don’t know why, but every time I leave here I get a little sad because I really DON'T WANT TO LEAVE, and it somehow makes me feel like I'll never be back again.

Here’s something to be happy about: as I sit here writing to you from the Ibiza airport, I just received a phone call from the boyz at the Barcelona airport. (drum roll please….!) THEY FOUND MY RUBBERMAID CONTAINER!!! YEEEHOOOOO!! And right in time for me to pick it up when I land, too. I’ll swing by on my way out and grab it, but I guess I won’t be taking the train home now will I? oooooh, I can feel the micro-current on my face already. It’s gonna be good….oh! And think of the studying I’ll be able to do with the awesome lessons in my kick-ass cerlox bound Spanish II binder! It is so exciting! Like a kid opening up her stocking on Christmas Day!

And with that I must say “Chau, Ibiza!” Peace and love always,

Charleen xo

Anger vs. Love

A French couple was arguing.  I could hear every word they were saying to one another, as their balcony was overlooking the swimming pool that I had been sunning myself at.  It wasn't nice.  I don't know why their argument started, as it had started inside their hotel room and then they brought it out to the balcony.  Apparently they thought I couldn't understand a word, but actually I understood all of it.  I think it started with something really stupid and small, like she didn't pick him up in front of the supermarket at the correct time or something, and then it escalated into a full-blown screaming match that had them both digging up the dirt on one another and pulling up things from the past that had nothing to do with the initial problem.  She was crying by now, and trying to soften things up by sharing her deeper self with him, the reasons why she does things, etc etc, and he was so angry he couldn't slow down long enough to hear her.  Instead he kept on pouting and screaming back at her: "oh, bien sur!  Bien sur!  Je sais!"  And the way he was forming his words, the way they rounded off into a spitting pout, made me realize just how angry he was, and that this wasn't just about not being picked up infront of the supermarket in time.  No, there were deeper issues at play here, and they were finally getting to it.  My question is this:

Why fucking bother??

I mean, if you're both not able to discuss things as they happen for you, if you're not willing to be absolutely 100% radically honest about what happens for you and why it happens for you, if you're not able to truly get real about your Self with the other person, and be honest about what your needs are and furthermore, WHY you need them, then why bother going into relationship at all?  I mean, what does it mean: Relationship?

I listened to these two go on and on for a couple of hours, and then, crazily enough, they were still at it the very next day!  I mean, what can possibly make you so angry that you would need to continue fighting with one another, killing one another slowly, 24 hours later, while on vacation??  Is love equal to hate??  What the hell is wrong with these people?  I felt like screaming up at the guy "Hey buddy! Why don't you make LOVE to your frickin' wife instead of screaming at her??"  And I would have been able to say it in French too, because by this time they had given me the opportunity to experience a full-blown review of the French language.... yes, it all came back to me within minutes of listening to them.  Unfortunate, isn't it?

Obviously listening to these two go on and on about crap that was so old and so painful, brought up my own stuff for me.  It was quite similar to my relationship, in that our arguments would happen in the exact same way: all of a sudden we'd be fighting about something that wasn't even directly related to the tiny issue at hand, it was about something else.  I was always very confused by the way these types of events would show up.  And by the time we uncovered the "real" issue, it was so heavily laden in thick mud that it took a lot of sweat to dig it out.  In the end, it was too much for my husband to take.  Being completely honest about who is is, and even more difficult, about WHY he is who he is, was too much of a challenge for him to tackle.  I don't hold it against him any longer, but I would have kept on digging through the mirk all on my own had he not completely ditched it entirely.  So maybe it's a good thing?  When only one person is really able to be honest about themselves in a relationship, it makes me wonder: is it worth it?   I know for certain that we can not have a deep, meaningful relationship built on superficiality.  I know that there is always a point where the romance comes to an end, and where we need to work on the task(s) of getting to know the psychology and history behind one another.  It's not pretty, nor is it flattering to let your ghosts out of your closet.  But we all have them so why not just be real about it?  It also takes each one of us letting down our guard, abandoning our ego at the door, and facing our Selves, too.  Some just don't want to go there.  Or even if they do, they wouldn't know how to go there even if the path had been laid down directly in front of them.

So this morning at breakfast, of course, the French couple are all kissy-kissy, lovey-lovey, and talking sweet and gently with one another.  It kindof makes me want to vomit actually.  Yes, I am having physical reactions to someone else's story.  And I don't know: did they really end up resolving their differences, or are they just too damn fatigued to continue fighting any longer?  I find all of this just a little too heavy to handle, to be honest.  For me right now it's all about having fun, and if it's not fun then I just won't go there.  I've had enough of the tears, the frustrations, the self-loathing, the dishonesty, to last me a lifetime.  I suppose that I will be faced with these types of mirrors for awhile yet.  In an instant it can all come flooding back to me.  So I have to ask myself: what do I decide to do in any given situation?  How do I handle myself?  Where do I draw my line?  All of these questions and more continue to be a work in progress for me. 

I have spent the last couple of days fighting a cold, and today thankfully I am on the mend.  The sun is shining and if its anything like yesterday, we will see temperatures of around 30 degrees here on the island.  That in itself is reason to be happy!  I think I'm going to actually hit a beach today - Ses Salines and the beach bar Sa Trinxas sounds like it'll be totally groovy.  And I know that later on there is going to be a celebration for the global "EarthDance" which is happening today, all over the world obviously.  I have been listening to Ibiza-Sonica, the radio station here on the island.  There is going to be a "surprise venue" announced for it, where some of the local dj's are going to be playing.  I think I will take part in that later on today.  Must check the website:  http://www.earthdance.es/. 

So off I go in my little red rental car (they chose the colour right!) to take advantage of my freedom again.  Life is sweet! And oh!  I am staying here two days longer, I've decided!  I received word from my Spanish instructor in Barcelona that she is moving offices to right in front of the Familia Sagrada (rockin'!) and would like to start October 5 instead.  Had I known I would have certainly changed my flight for later in the week instead of for Monday night.  Oh well, this will give me enough time to explore Barcelona more and get in tune with the vibe there.  All works out as it should.  (side note: my Rubbermaid container STILL has not been located!!  If anyone wants to sell me their micro-current machine, please let me know.  Because apparently I won't be getting mine back.)

And those are my heavy, reflective, turning to light and detached thoughts for the day.  :)

Charleen xo

The Candy Jar

Ladies, Ladies. Step right up and put your hand in the candy jar and see what you get! If you don’t like it, you can toss it back in and choose another.

Ibiza is such a melting pot of countries and cultures that one needn’t decide to just hang with any old fella. No sir, you can have your pick at any time, any place. And girlfriends, there are more than enough to pick from, so haggling with one another will not be an issue. Everyone can benefit from such a divine smorgasbord of tasty candy! Take last night for example. I was in attendance at Erick Morillo’s Subliminal Sessions at Pacha, and there were a kazzilion people who had come out, all looking divine, for the sensual experience that only Pacha can truly offer. Someone asked me once which club I thought was the best in Ibiza. Hands down, it’s gotta be Pacha. Any night of the week you can come and listen to the world’s top dj’s belt out the most progressive of tunes, while feasting on the delicious assortments of eye candy on display. Erick Morillo is a fantastic DJ, he’s so fantastic in fact that Vancouver can’t afford to bring him out for a show. At $10,000/night, he demands to play at only the finest of venues in the world. The treat of going out to such a beautiful night club, and listening to such a fantastic DJ obviously puts people in the mood for looooove!

As I’m here alone, I walked to the front door of the club to buy a ticket for myself, which would have cost E60, but the yummy piece of candy at the front door, Spanish in orientation, asked me if I was “sola” and I said “si”, and he said, “pasa!” (come in). That was just the beginning to a truly awesome evening! Then I slipped in to the Pacha restaurant, which is just inside the front doors of the club. Oooh la la! Only the most classiest and pretentious dine at Pacha, but I just wanted a drink! Paul Van Dyk was dining with his entourage, and the restaurant was full of Ibiza’s finest clubbers, all decked out in the latest fashions and accessories. I sat at the bar and ordered an espresso and watched the tasty morsels come and go, and then got chatting with an English couple who were starting their evening there at Pacha, but then were planning on heading over to La Troya’s closing party, which is said to be the best closing party on the island – all the locals come out for it. Alas, I couldn’t be persuaded to go with them, but we sipped Mojitos together and had light hearted, sexy, and playful conversation together. Then through the other side of the restaurant I floated through the door and onto a terrace, to a room called “The Funky Room”. The sala was all jazzed up with comfy little white couches and flowing white curtains, candles lit everywhere, and the music was so great! Truly funky house! I don’t know who the DJ’s were, but I shook it like nobody’s business! Such fun! It wasn’t long before my first pick of candy of the night, the Dutch brand, offered his services to me. But ahh. I found him too flighty for me, and he was definitely way too high and not exactly “tasteful” in my opinion. Although he meant well, he couldn’t keep his hands off my curly hair, so had to toss him back in the bowl. Another would gladly be interested in that piece of candy, I thought. Next came the Italian type of bon bon that truly is scrumptious to look at, with close cut salt and pepper hair, steely blue eyes, and a very beautiful pair of Italian shoes! Alas, he could speak no English, no Spanish, and maybe only two words of French. Those components aside, he was so touchy/feely, and was having a hard time keeping his slick Italian paws off of me! So I threw him back in the candy bowl too, knowing fully that he would be exactly perfect for someone else’s appetite. So on I mosey down through yet another back door, and out into the massive main hall, where Erick Morillo was already in full swing, driving people wild and blasting the sirens! If they could have, the crowd would have been swinging from the rafters! That’s how huge his energy is! Well well, I thought. There sure is some might deeeelicious looking candy in here tonight! I sauntered over to one of the many bars, and flagged down the pretty bartender for my standard vodka and soda. I didn’t even notice the huge chunk of candy standing right beside me! That was until he turned and looked me right in the eyes and asked me where I was from….wowza! No sweetie, the question is where are YOU from? Hee hee hee….it turns out that he was of the German flavour, Dusseldorf to be exact (wearing an AC/DC Back In Black t-shirt, no less!), and was exactly what the doctor ordered! No pawing, no sweating or drooling on me, no sticking his tongue down my throat… no, just good clean conversation, which lead to some delectable two way flirting. But he did not put his hands on me uninvited, and I definitely never felt that I had to get the heck away for some air!! Furthermore, he was such a man that he kept his focus firmly fixed on me all night long. An absolute gentleman, as Germans are, he would never have considered letting me attempt to maneuver through the packed-like-sardines dance floor without him guiding me through first. Now THAT is exactly how I like my candy! Furthermore, we both came to the conclusion that it would be in both of our countries best interests that we establish a rapport with one another. Sigh… all done humbly in the name of good international relations… and a sweet tooth!

So today has been spent lying by my pool, basking in the sun that has been hidden by clouds and thundershowers all week long, and revisiting the fantastic evening I just had! The only downer is that, well, of course now I have a cold! I do have tickets to Cream at Amnesia tonight to go see Paul Van Dyk, but am seriously considering not going at all. We fairies like to party, but this particular fairy sure doesn’t need to rock it every single night, nor does she want to. There are so many wonderful things to do on this island, and feeling hung over and zombie-like for the majority of my time does not appeal to me, not even in the slightest. Tonight I am sitting and having dinner at a little restaurant in my favourite town of San Jose, sipping Hierbas and agua mineral natural, and am hooked up to my laptop computer, checking emails and downloading photos from last night. I stopped in to see my friend Alok again today, and after yesterdays downpour and today’s sunshine, the entire valley smells like sage and aloe, and the tree tops are glistening with new needles. Truly, this island is where I want to be.

I may stay a couple of days longer here. I just can’t seem to get up the nerve to pull myself away. Barcelona is a wonderful city and I am going to have fun exploring it, but being back on the isla reminds me of all the reasons I wanted to live here in the first place.

Bigotes Restaurant

A while back I read about a restaurant in Ibiza that is legend - El Bigote Restaurant.  I had already decided that the next time I went to Ibiza, I'd try to find this place.  And I did!

Bigotes restaurant at Cala Mastella, on the north-east side of the island, is nestled in a small cove almost literally in the middle of nowhere.  You can park close by but you still have to walk in and be sure to show up early to make a reservation.  I could see why that was necessary: the place is built out of a tiny fishing shack, with canopies and umbrellas set up for shade.  Lunch is served only once at 2:30 pm, so if you're not there by 2:00 to make your reservation, slim chance of getting a seat.  Tables are set for 5 or 6 people and, as I was solo, I shared my table with two lovely girls from England who were on a quest to scope out all the great, hidden eating places on the island.  They were not let down by yesterday's meal!  At Bigotes, they serve what is called "Bullit de Peix", which made in one large pot in which a giant fish (caught fresh that day) is cooked in a stew of potatoes and saffron.  And that's just the first course!  The second course is rice which has been added to the remaining fish stock and cooked to perfection!  They didn't really have desert, but you could order icecream if you really needed it - which I didn't (burp!).  I did try their Cafe Caleta afterwards though, which is alcohol and coffee, and maybe something sweet mixed together.  It was all very delicious, very precious, and a great experience!  I'm so glad I planned to look for this place, and actually had no problem scoping it out once I put my mind to it (note: if you ever plan to visit Ibiza, RENT A CAR).  The skies opened up and dumped on us almost all afternoon, but it didn't bother any of us there as we were all too busy enjoying our meals to give a dang!  How much did this delicious experience cost me?  Two courses, a beer, and a coffee was E23.  Very nice!   

Que Buena Fiesta!!

First, an update: My small suitcase was found and I had it by 5:00 the day after I arrived. Phew! My laptop is still intact, and I am fully enjoying my vacation now. Second: my Rubbermaid container is still missing.

So for those of you who don’t know, the club season in Ibiza runs from mid-June till end of September only. From start to finish, and everything in between, it is pure hedonistic mayhem here on the island. Pacha is the only club that stays open year-round here, and they are said to have some wonderful Christmas and New Year’s celebrations where everyone who lives on the island comes out to play. Well, last night I had the distinct pleasure of going to Privilege, the world’s largest night club, to see Tiesto’s Closing Party. Tiesto is a world famous trance DJ from The Netherlands who was at Number 1 for years (some of you might remember him from the Opening Cermonies of the Athens Olympics in 2004), and is still in the top 3. He is very popular, and his music influences people from all corners of the world. People from all races and age groups, young and old, black and white, came to Ibiza to see his last concert on the island for the season. Now last year I happened to be on the island for some of the opening parties in June, and was able to attend the Monza opening party at Privilege, the promoter for heavy German underground beats. That was the first time I got to experience the 10,000 capacity club. Of course there weren’t too many people in attendance that night, so many of the floors, bars, back rooms, and verandas were closed. WELL NOT LAST NIGHT! Wow wow wow wow! I must say, if you’re going to experience Privilege at its finest, it might as well be at a Tiesto party, and last night’s show will go down as one of the most unforgettable parties I’ve ever been to. The only downer is that I didn’t bring my camera! Well, it’s not my fault really. Last year when I came to Privilege we weren’t allowed to bring them in, so this year I kept mine locked up in the car. Turns out that everyone and their dog was taking pictures and filming the fantastic light show (think: Lite Brite style board that covers the entire front wall of the club, flashing “TIESTO” and “ MAKE SOME NOISE, IBIZA!!”, with laser shows generating huge, airborne doves in the middle of the gigantic main room.) Oh yes, and don’t forget the ice machines blasting cold air out at you every 15 minutes or so, the deeeelicious, oiled up and sparkling dancers who wore wigs of gold tinsel, and the explosions of silver sprinkles and colourful ribbons filling the room at various times throughout the night. Privilege even has a swimming pool in the middle of it, but no one was interested in jumping in last night! They were there to dance and had their feet firmly planted on the ground. Tiesto absolutely ROCKED IT! Even he was dancing! The crowd seemed super excited to be in attendance and there was a real festive feeling in the air. Everyone in every inch of the place was shaking their tail feathers! What I like most about clubbing in Ibiza is that it’s really a sensual experience all around – the sights are just as phenomenal as the sounds, and the clubs are luxuriously and stylishly decked out, most with various rooms and balconies with which to get lost in. Another great thing about Ibiza is that I am not anywhere close to being one of the eldest at the club, not like I am in booorrring Vancouver, where one has to be a sloppy, aggressive and pretentious 20-something to be “in” in the city. Not here. Last night, everyone partied together, and that added to the international feeling of the place and also gave me a better appreciation for Tiesto’s authority over everyone. He played for 4 hours straight, shutting it down at 7:00 a.m., and his two opening DJ’s were impressive too (not sure of their names, sorry!).  Side Note: Tiesto was looking so BUFF!  We were up close and centre all night long, so I can attest to his fine form!  yum yum bubblegum!  :)

But don’t let me forget to tell you about the two Argentinean men who wouldn’t stop dancing with me all night long! Juan and Pedro were a ton of fun, totally crazy, and like most Argentineans, had excellent rhythm and dance moves. They didn’t speak a word of English, which forced me to step up to the plate with my Spanish, even while under the influence of vodka and tonic! At one point, a cute little Scottish girl came by with glow-in-the-dark finger paint and painted us all up with tattoos and warrior-style markings. I only left the dance floor to get a drink (twice, at 12 euros/drink – but they are free-poured and super strong!) and twice to hit the bano. Other than that, I could not have dreamed of being anywhere else! After the show, the three of us drove back into Ibiza Town and had café con leches and croissants, then back to their hotel in Figurettes to continue partying (which was okay, because the entire hotel must've been at the same concert, and were up still partying themselves!). I did actually get to doze off for a bit, and woke up feeling queasy with an incredible headache. All I could seem to mumble was: Uhhg…me duele me cabeza (my head hurts), and before I knew it the Argentinean boys were on it STAT! And here’s a new Spanish word for you all to remember: Aspirina. That’s right, Aspirin. Directions: For rapid improvement over your wretched situation, dissolve two aspirins in half a glass of Pepsi. Guzzle. Wait ten minutes or so. Works like a charm!

So, sorry I don’t have any further pictures from last night, but Juan and Pedro have promised to email me some and when they do I will be sure to share!

Today has been laden with thunder showers, but that’s perfect because I needed to sleep all afternoon anyways! Tonight I am going back to Alok’s for dinner, and then tomorrow hopefully the sun will come out so I can sit by the pool and soak it up all day long. Staying at a really nice place, check it out: http://www.hotelvillage.net/.

Lots more to tell you about, including my trip back to the cliffs overlooking Es Vedra, so until next time, xoxo

All About Patience

Most of you will already know that I am a little short on patience.  I've learned to temper that a bit, but it still is something that I work with daily. 
My flights over were totally fine, uneventful.  When I landed in Madrid, I was briefly transported back in time to about age 25 or so, when I first went backpacking through Europe on my own.  I remember how nervous and scared I was, and how lonely I felt the first few days.  Within a matter of days though, I released those emotions and got into the freedom I had afforded myself and the excitement of the journey ahead.  Well this was exactly the same thing I felt while sitting for 5 hours at the Madrid airport waiting for my connection to Barcelona... and I had to do some deep breathing to remind myself that I'm okay, things will be fine, and this emotion, like all else in life, will eventually pass. 

Arriving in Barcelona felt familiar and strange to me.  I do feel at home here in this part of the world, and I have ever since the first time I visited years ago.  However, I had always imagined that this journey would be taken with my husband, and so more tears fell as soon as I hopped into a cab.  Again, more releasing and letting go, and replacing those anxious feelings with feelings of anticipation of my new life here in España.  Driving through the crowded streets of Barcelona gave me new energy, even though it had taken 18 hours to get there and I was beat!  Coming down the hill towards my apartment, I smiled when I saw the sparkling Mediterranean only a little ways off in the distance, and silently gave thanks that I´m not too far from the beach - heck, I bet I could run it in about 15 minutes!  It is so awesome!  And as promised, my new roommate Pam was waiting for me at home.  She was not kidding about the stairs to get up to our apartment.  Our building is about 120 years old, and was probably considered quite fashionable in its time.  Now though, with its narrow staircase and no elevator for relief, it is almost comical to come home to.  There´s a real vintage, Catalan feeling when you walk through its doors.  I giggled and proceeded to haul my heavy bags up the 4 flights or so to the "second" level.  Second level my ars!!  But that brings me to another topic:  my bags!  All arrived okay except for my beloved Rubbermaid container, which had in it my Accu o Matic machine (for non-needle accupunture and, more importantly, for facial rejuvenation! Worth about $2000!), my linens and towels, 3 (count 'em!) pairs of Italian boots, 1 pair of Italian shoes, and all my Spanish workbooks, including my dictionary, verb conjugation book, and the cerlox binder that I so lovingly put together for this trip and has all of this past year's education in it.  And what does Spanair say about my precious Rubbermaid container?  Nada.  They know nothing.  Not a sign of it anywhere.  Mother f-ckers!!

Ok, so all good.  I figured at least I am safe, my most important articles are safe, and I have a great home, in a great locale, and I am happy.  Right?  Seems like a pretty normal conclusion to come to, I'd say.  Friday evening was spent getting to know my roomie and her cat, Sammy, the area around my home (Hospital San Pau/Familia Sagrada, which ROCKS!), buying a new cell phone number (please take note: 011 34 634 833 315), and wiping the slop out of the inside of my toiletry bags (there's always at least one bottle that's bound to explode!).  Even that I did joyfully. 

Saturday morning I walked the route to my where my spanish classes will be held, and which will take me about 10 minutes to walk from my door to my teacher's door, no problem!  Heck, there are even two small sushi restaurants on the same street as my school!  Imagine my delight at finding those!  OMG, I almost cried when I saw them!  I smiled all day long, even when I stopped into various cafes to ask if they had cafe con leche de soya (cafe con leche with soy milk instead of regular milk, which makes me feeling like barfing), and they said they didn't.  I was amused with the opportunities to try my Spanish out, because this area of town isn't so touristy and very little English is spoken. I also realized there is a lot of Catalan being spoken in Barcelona.  I enjoy hearing the differences between the two languages, and linking Catalan to my knowledge of French, too, when I can.  For instance, "buenos dias" is good day, or hello, in Spanish (Castellano).  But in Catalan, they say "bon dia", which to me looks and sounds like a cross betwen French and Spanish.  I am totally tickled by these types of things, and I thought I was pretty dang smart to catch these finer details on my first day in Barcelona!  And you know something else?  Not only does the area I live in totally rock, it´s also within walking distance to a train station that took me straight out to the airport within about 25 minutes!  Can it get any better??  I mean really!

Well, it can get better apparently.  There is definitely room for improvement in my experience thus far.  Because somehow Spanair has succeeded in losing yet ANOTHER one of my bags!  And this time I'm totally choked about it!  I had packed two carry-on sized bags especially for my trip to Ibiza!  I just figured I'd carry everything on board with me, no problema, right?  WRONG!  I get to the airport and only one carry-on bag is allowed, and that includes carrying on a purse!  Give me a break!  I am so not down with Spanair...but I decided to just let it go and humbly checked my small suitcase which has all my clothes, toiletries, shoes, heck it even has my underwear and my brush in it, AND my LAPTOP computer!!  If anyone can tell me how the frig' Spanair can lose one small bag going directly to one small place, I´d like to hear about it!!  And its funny, cause I was hearing the voice in my head screaming at me as I checked my little suitcase in: don´t do it, don´t do it!!  I didn´t have a choice though, and decided that I was just hyper sensitive due to my container already going missing... so don't worry Char!  Everything's cool!  yeah right...

I feel only a little bad for the guy at the car rental counter who I was extremely rude to after filing yet another blasted missing baggage claim.  Actually, if I could have, I would have jumped over the counter and strangled him, even though he clearly has nothing to do with my missing bag.  He's actually lucky.  It could have been worse for him.  Poor guy.  I'll bet he deals with this all the time, frustrated customers projecting their anger onto him.... yeah, it´s gotta be pretty normal for him, right?  Hey look, no one ever said that fairies don't have a temper... actually we have quite wicked ones...

I had just enough time in Ibiza Town last night to buy a couple necessities: shampoo, conditioner, cleanser, a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear today.  Then I drove through Ibiza Town to the Marina Botafoch (yes, that´s its real name!) and snarfed back a couple of delicious tapas while watching the Germans come and go to their yachts.  Then on the way home I took the wrong roundabout a couple of times, but I giggled the entire time because, hey.  If I can´t laugh at myself then who can I laugh at?  And besides, taking the wrong route is part of the journey, don't you agree? 

I thought you would.  :)

This morning still no word of my luggage, and I'm desperately trying not to freak.  All else aside, if I don't get my laptop back I might just have to end it all!  After breakfast, I drove the scenic Es Vedra route (which brings tears to my eyes every time without fail) to visit my friend Alok for tea.  He laughed at me and said in his German accent "Aahh, so you're letting go of everything, eh Charleen?"  Yes, yes apparently I am.

So I am now killing siesta time writing this from an internet cafe.  I adore siesta.  It is so chilled out, and now on the island the crowds are not as heavy and it super awesome to be back here.  Although I would have liked to share pictures of my new home with you all, it shall have to wait because those photos are on my laptop.  I am going to get my suitcase back, and I am going to have my laptop back, intact, safe, with no damage whatsoever to it.  Yes I am.  And next week when I leave the island for home, I am going to carry on BOTH of my bags, and Spanair can kiss my round Italian butt if they dont like it!  And once I get my bag back, I think I'm going to go and treat myself to a Tino de Verano, or something as delicious, and maybe even a few of them.  Afterall, I am on vaction.  In the meantime, it is warm and raining on the island of Ibiza and it gives me a good chance to drive around, explore, and feel the freedom that I have come to live for.

Stand by...

Charleen xo

Footprints In The Sand

"One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.  In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

'You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?'

The Lord replied, 'The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.'"
Author unknown

Now I'm not a religious person, but I do believe in God.  And I have ample reasons to do so.  During the last 9 months, well 10 really, when I couldn't pick myself up off the floor, out of the puddle of drool and tears that I found myself in so many times, I knew that something or someone else must've been carrying me.  Who was it that packed up my home, twice in a 6 month period, when I couldn't see straight?  Who gave me energy and strength to do what had to be done, to hold myself up, to even walk out the door, to find a new job and endure it, to even face the world when all I wanted to do was die?  When I couldn't move, when I was so frozen by my pain, who actually got me out the door and down the path to recovery?  It wasn't me.  No, I can't take responsibility for that one.  If there is a God, and I know there is, then it was he (or she!)  who helped me through it all.

I've always known that I have guardian angels, a couple of them really, and I'd like to take this moment to publicly say "thanks for the lift!" and acknowledge how grateful I am for them.  I am also grateful for those random kind souls who popped into my life just when I thought it couldn't get any worse: the leasing agent who rented the cool pad on Scotia Street to me even though I didn't have a job, and to the HR gal who took me on before even checking references!  To those individuals who along the way might have only said one seemingly little thing, but whose simple words touched me and tweaked my perception just enough that it made me believe I might be ok again.  Those people who didn't even know me but who connected with what I was going through in an instant, and offered me their wise words and strength without attachment or attitude, or any expectation that I should repay them or befriend them.  They just let me be and the accepted me unconditionally.  I believe these people are like guardian angels, as they were put on my path to remind me about the good in life. The good in myself.  I was remined to look up, to keep that little piece of hope in the corner of my heart alive! 

I've made a lot of new friends in the past few months, and some have gone so far as to connect me with their friends, who are now waiting to meet me in Barcelona!  They encouraged me to go down this new path.  I say thank you to all of them!

I'd like to say thanks to my very good friend Mark, who has endured me living in his space with him for the past 3 weeks, and offered me a roof over my head when my hands felt tied.  Thank you Mark!  You're awesome!

I've only recently let go of my fears about this new journey.  I knew without a doubt that I had to do it, but I was scared and nervous about my future and it almost kept me glued to this city's streets.  But there is hope, and there is light at the end of the tunnel.  My sister says that I should look forward to Barcelona and all it's wonders (read: MEN), and to live this new adventure to it's fullest (read: MEN).  :)  I finally have to say: I agree!! 

So here I am, bags packed, comfy clothes on and ready for the long flight which will take me through Toronto, Madrid, and finally Barcelona.  My heavy bags and rubbermaid container are ready to go!  So now I'm going to sip a Starbucks coffee.... no, make that a Soy London Fog with extra vanilla, please.... and give a big hug to Vancouver.  It's a wonderful city, and one that I have long been overdue to leave.  My new roommate will be waiting for me with open arms at the other end.  It will be then that I will know that I'm home again. 

I also want to thank one more person, and I know you'll be surprised, but: Thank you, Dimo. You know why.  :)

I am ready.  I am finally ready.  The beaches of Ibiza await!  More to come soon.

Charleen xo

 

Friendship

On my last weekend in Vancouver, a group of my closest friends got together with me to have fun, flirt, and celebrate friendship. It has been a hard year, and my girlfriends have been patient and enduring with me, and they have been there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, a hug, or just a set of ears to listen. They've offered their loving support and very un-critical advice when I've asked for it. And, true to form, they came out on Saturday night to send me off to the next leg of my journey here on this crazy planet. I am so thankful for each of them! So today I raise a glass to all my girlfriends, and to girlfriends everywhere! None of us can live without them.