Italy

My life might seem glamorous because I am in Spain where the sun always shines, the tapas have no calories, and Enrique Iglesias serenades me every evening, but is still so easy to get caught up in all of our vices: Keith in front of the computer, Rebecca lounging, Sammie with her ipod, and me, like Mt. Vesuvius, blowing my top at all of them to do something different.  I’m just kidding, I say a lot of nice things to them too, just not out loud. 

Being void of any real responsibilities here, I am often left to my own devices.  So often, many days fall away with nothing to show. I still did not get to the ironing today, and that makes 8 years in a row. The truth is I am perfectly content with the crunch of leaves under my feet, a salty snack in hand and my favorite song on itunes. But it is better to see something once, than hear about it a million times, so last week we left the comfort of the city that we love to unearth some Italian history.

In some ways, Rome is like many European cities, with narrow cobblestone streets, impressive monuments, and an abundance of manscaping.  In fact, if I close my eyes, it almost feels like I’ve been there before. All around us, we were reminded of the past through what exists now in the present.  The amazing food, stylish clothing, and beautiful people echo the Rome of the third century.  It is a city built on bricks but remembered in marble.  Today it lives on in its people and its pasta. We came, we saw, we ate, and swear the city was still standing when we left.

Rome has ignored the concept of hindsight, as it has returned to the way of life that was once its downfall. It was not too big to fall, but it was too loved to disappear. Like the fragment of my tooth that remains after my brush with corn nuts: its absence will not deter future snacking, and one could say I’ve learned nothing from its demise. I just love that life has so much to offer, and want to taste it all. When the world ends, I don’t want to be found under a pile of rubble wondering what just happened.

My road today does not lead to Rome, but to the dentist. I will remember my tooth fondly, as well as the snack that took it from me. I just hope that the fixing of said tooth is not an experience I will remember forever.  We will see -  I’m gonna be an optimist about this.

Where are we?

La Sagrada Família

Lately my mind has been more like a booby trap than a steel trap, so helping the girls with their academics has been challenging.  This week we experimented with oxygenated water, which, among other things, has been touted as improving one’s oxygen levels when consumed.  We searched every store for it until I realized that I had incorrectly translated the word and that we had just been missing it.  In case you are interested, the effect it has on raw food is worthy of close investigation, but drinking it just makes for an expensive burp.  

If you go to Barcelona, don’t miss seeing La Sagrada Família, Antonio Gaudí’s truly magnificent basilica that has been under construction for 133 years and is still not done. Gaudi made the church his life’s work, and it is his vision that is still being carried out today almost 90 years after his death. The architecture itself represents the birth, life, and death of Christ, and the interior reflects nature with a forest of tall columns bathed in color from the stained glass windows.  It was stunning, and millions have come to stand in awe.

While there, I was reminded of another craftsman named Huram who carved 200 pomegranates by hand for the tops of the spires of the temple in Jerusalem.  It must have taken many years and he most likely devoted much of his life to this work.  But once erected, the spires stood so tall that I doubt anyone from the ground could see the fruits of his labor.  He worked for an audience of one.

Wrinkled is not what I wanted to be when I grew up, but neither was old, and they both seem to be happening.  I ask my girls what they want to be when they grow up because I am still looking for ideas.  While I have become great at redecorating my comfort zone, which is currently a lovely shade of safe, I can’t point to any one big endeavor to which I’ve devoted my life. As noble as my efforts are of not mixing plaids in public or burping the alphabet may be, I sense there might be more to life. I could be a chemist. I could be an interior decorator. Maybe, I could carve a pomegranate.

La Sagrada Família is a work in progress, and so am I. I don’t know if anyone will ever stand in awe of what I do.  I don’t know if anyone will be able to stand what I do.  Dang, it is unlikely that anyone will even know what I do. Regardless, there is something I am supposed to be doing, and I don’t want to miss it. My audience is waiting.  

Water Court

The Valencia Water Court has been declared an Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO. While I’m not exactly sure what that means, it is a mouthful to say so I am duly impressed. Made up of democratically elected farmers, water court meets once a week in front of the Apostles Gate of Valencia's Cathedral, and settles conflicts between irrigation water-users orally, quickly, cheaply, publically and impartially. It is the oldest running judicial organization in Europe, rarely has anything to do, and seeing it in action made me giggle.

Water Court (he he he)

Jenni has been declared a Tangible Friend of Jacque and having her here was unquestionably, unequivocally, undeniably, irrefutably, and seriously something that made me smile.  Unlike water court, we were swamped, traveling from the polar vortex of Madrid, to the brisk Mediterranean coast I call home, and then north to gusty Barcelona.  Stealing warmth inside El Prado, Mercado San Miguel, and perhaps the most amazing place of all, Desigual, I laugh at how my favorite moments with her were when we were doing nothing at all.

My family was equally tickled to see Jenni, perhaps because it reduced their responsibility of entertaining me for a week.  We enjoyed showing her the Valencia we have come to know and love, and made her experience everything: paella, horchata, chufa, cañas, flamenco, tapas, sangria, cáqui, and water court (giggle).  Try as I might, I could not cough up a flying pig, so only Rebecca and Samantha accompanied me to my new Funky dance/exercise class to provide a comparison that made my classmates chuckle.

Some things are just too good to let go of.  Jenni is one of them.  Spain, too, is taking root in my heart.  And water court (giggle) guarantees my long, hot showers, which are necessary because the wind in my hair has reminded me that it is time to shave my legs.  Finally, I will hold on tight to anyone reading this because admit it, you could be doing something really important right now, but instead you are “Burning Paella”.