When we hatched this trip, Wilder and Nakota were a year and a half. They were rocking a three-hour nap on the reg, and it only seemed kind of crazy to think that Billy and I would have some time to work on our endeavors instead of bat shit fucking psychotic.
We took a day trip to Cadiz. I was picturing a whitewashed seaside village; it’s actually a big city with a sweet little old town and a picturesque restaurant row. Note Billy refusing to buy sunglasses from the nice man in the lower right hand corner. Turns out Billy has a fear of buying sunglasses on the street. After numerous opportunities on multiple continents I’m refusing to let him wear mine until he confronts his phobia.
The sky clouded over the moment we got to the beach. A bunch of kids and their parents showed up and started putting on gloves. Fiesta was in the air. We watched and waited for the game that was about to be played. Handball? Volleyball? Some kind of Spanish hybrid? Nope, they were just cleaning the beach.
We’ve been in Spain for three weeks now, the three-hour nap is nonexistent (as are naps in general), and we’ve got full blown threenagers on our hands. We’re talking Exorcist level tantrums. Remember in Almost Famous when Frances McDormand says to Zooey Deschanel, “You are rebellious and ungrateful of my love”? I finally understand Frances. I’m becoming the mom character. It’s chilling.
We went to Jerez, the sherry capital of the world. Jerez literally translates to sherry in Spanish. We had a glass and as I gamely sipped the amber smoke I found myself thinking... is there any place on the planet called Vodka?
I guess we're going to Russia next.
Day trips with toddlers seem to consist of playground, lunch, stumble around on some old shit, tantrum, home. So that’s what we did.
Back in Jimena, the rain never stopped. It basically downpoured for 19 days straight. Apparently it’s more rain than the village has ever gotten - and this place has been around since the Phoenicians. When I tell you that the highlight of last week was taking Nakota to the ER for an ear infection, I am not being facetious. There was an attentive doctor, no wait and no bill. A $3 prescription for antibiotics and our girl is back on top. Somebody’s really gotta explain to me why socialized medicine is bad and don’t bring up cancer because it’s usually a fucking earache. And if it’s cancer, I’ll take all the money I saved from the earaches and go to the fancy cancer doctor. Anyway. We went to Marbella. Kind of cheesy, kind of pretty, less tantrums.
Freud said, “Depression is anger turned inwards.” Or maybe it was Dr. Phil paraphrasing the great dick doctor, but regardless, I think it’s a pretty good definition. It would certainly explain why it’s so exhausting, even though you’re seemingly not doing anything, you’re actually doing everything; you’re waging a full-scale war with yourself, fighting both sides of the battle. I don’t know that I had been depressed but I certainly was a bit pissy and lethargic last week. Waking up in the middle of the night for a little trash talking session with myself: why aren’t I a better business women, a more imaginative writer, an arts and craftsy mom… Sorry, a few more pictures of this:
And then I’d get angry with myself for being so self-absorbed and not appreciating how lucky we are to be here. And then I’d feel guilty that we’re even here. That we don’t deserve a trip like this. That we should be punching the clock and playing it safe. And then I'd think, but life is short. And then I'd think, but what if it's long? And then I'd think, well, if it's long there will be a lot of time to punch the clock. And then I’d get so tired of arguing with myself that I’d pass out. In times like this I rely on my old friends, Milli and Vanilli and Blame it on the rain.
But finally, the clouds parted and we were able to get out into the nature surrounding this ancient place. Took a hike down to the river and recalibrated our senses. The kids played for four straight hours without fighting, crying or whining.
We met a young French woman who just moved here and teaches Qi Gong. Billy and I both took a class and released some energy blocks – or something like that, I have no idea what I’m talking about but I did feel a lot less cunty afterwards. And we finally got a date night! Hallelujah.
Gotta love how the Spanish do a dive bar, bull fighting on the tv to boot. (It may look like Billy's eyes are closed but he's just paying respects to the charcuterie gods.)
I was getting my groove back just in time for our friends to come visit when their flight got canceled by the Air France strike. These intrepid travelers spent two days in the Detroit airport (with a baby!) trying to get here and still couldn't make it work. Sometimes life has other plans. And that's gotta be a good thing because, fuck, can you imagine if we were in control of everything? The pressure and self loathing that could create? I'd never get back to sleep.
Sometimes you can’t argue yourself out of a funk. You’ve just got to get up and out of your own head. And let the day take you...
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