Josafino came home and fixed the mid day meal, and we spoke our broken languages finding ways to communicate with each other. They are upset they can not show the propert hospitality by speaking to us, I am the one in their country and should be able to do more then spit a few words out with no consideration for grammar. We laugh at ourselves and know that the most things do not need to be said between us, we can feel them in our hearts.
About 10 it was time to go to dinner, so we walked down to the square of the Flamenco Singer. There is a lovely statute and I took some photos of it. I will have to post the photos later, I have been trying now for an hour and do not know what I am doing wrong, but the photos will not come up on the post.
We then walked around the narrow streets, a combination of bricks and rocks and pavement, Luis insisted on pushing Dad the entire way. We stopped at another plaza near a beautiful cathedrial, pictures to be included at another time. The night was beautiful and because this is a festival time the streets were full of people of all ages all having a wonderful time. We again stopped for a drink and tapas and now it was after 11:00 so we walked the short couple of blocks to home. Luis looked at me and said, Ï speak very good English¨ Then we laughed because that is all that Luis can say in English.
I went straight to bed and as I almost fell alseep I had a panic attack. I guess I was just tired and stressed enough that it was ready to come crashing down on my head. I took a couple of ativan. I tore everything I own apart, no wallet. I lay back down. I breathed deeply, I said, Ï can not make a difference right now, so go to sleep, rest and in the morning you will figure this out.¨ Slept with one ear open. We have given him a bell to ring if he needs anything and after I had fallen asleep a heard a bell. I jumped up and ran out of my room. Dad´s door across the breeze way was closed, no light, no noise. I slipped quietly over and cracked his door. He was fast asleep. I must have been dreaming. I laid back down and went to sleep. I heard the bell ring again. I checked on Dad, he is still peacefully asleep. I go back to bed, and think, Quantam physics, every possibility is out there until we focus on a point. So I must be more open to what is making the bell sound. I lay awake on my bed, breathing deeply, trying to relax and still my mind and so many worries.
The bell rang again. But this time since I was not focused on Dad I realized it was coming from outside the window. I look out, and there is a man on a bike with a bell. I laughed to myself, closed the window and went back to sleep. This morning I woke and said, be in control, tell your brain to see the wallet. You know you have it. And I picked up my purse, unzipped the first pocket. A pocket I have looked into more then a dozen times and there was the wallet. That easy. Just tell your brain there are more possibilities and truly believe it, and it worked.
Such a perfect way to start the day, so I got dressed, went downstairs and found the map that Luis and Josafino had left out for me. They had kindly marked the house, so I stepped out into the narrow, twisting and confusing world of a town built centuries ago and then added onto, and turned toward the plaza of the Flamenco singer and started to walk. It was cool and the streets were not as full as the night before. Now instead of sitting out along the road, people were in the cafeterias and restruarants eating breakfast and drinking cups of coffee. I followed my nose to a Cubano pastery shop. The night before I had seen a bottle of the acorn liquor. This is similiar to Amerrato, but not as sweet. You can buy it in the US, but for mucho mucho dinero. Here it is about 5 euros. I asked for 2, then picking one of the bottles, I realize that it did not feel much heavier then the big cheeses I have in my bags. So I asked for one more (yes, Pat that is yours). I walked around and took pictures of the orange trees that line the square of Espana. I took pictures of the little flags hanging across the narrow little streets, of paintings and art and flowers. Then I looked at the map, and carefully headed back to the casa. I made a few wrong turns, but eventually found my way to the house. Dad was still asleep. It was almost 11 so I woke Dad.
It had been a pefect morning, I had my acorn liquour, I found my wallet, in tack. My credit card is cancelled, but that just means I can not spend as much money. Nothing wrong with that. I fixed Dad´s breakfast, Josafino had brought him some English language newspapers. I looked at them, but put them down, murder, plane wrecks, floods, protests....... There is nothing I can do for any of this or any people at this moment, so there is no reason to stress myself out.
It is almost 2 and Dad is writing his postcards, I sent mine from The Netherlands. The heat is wrapping around the houses and coutyards and people. The world here is slowing down as people close their shops and find a place for a quiet siesta. A place to endure the heat. I look out on the courtyard and feel the heat and the sunshine, and it is different. The sun is different here then in any country. I consider going up to the pool and floating in the crystal water. A possibility to consider.
This afternoon, Luis will take us to go and pick up Ana and we shall take a driving tour of Badajoz. Tomorrow he will drive us to Baracarrotta. It is a good vacation. Hard, and Dad is not strong enough to be here, but we are here, and this is where he wants to be, so I do the best I can to give him one last visit here. One last time in this glorious land of sun and heat and skies so blue and yet so different then the humid blue of home. Dad writes his postcards slowly, napping between sentences. The family dog moves from spot to spot finding the cool. Luis is in the studio office working. I am only disappointed in not being able to show you the photos I went out especially this morning to take to post here. I have the photos and will post them at another time when things re working better.
Now it is time for siesta, and I am being pulled by the tradition to lay my head down and rest. To sleep through the hours of het, to prepare for more adventures this evening. I am growing tired, maybe it is the heat, maybe it is being away from my home and beloved ones. Maybe it is the excitement, or the physical strain of the choice I made to do this journey. I still have no regrets, and everything is going so well, and I am filling with so many memories of precious moements. Like sitting in the night under the heavens on the other side of the world from my beloveds, and yet sitting with my beloved. Eating olives and queso, drinking agua con gas, listening to the sounds and smelling the smells of a place so different and so familiar.
Again I am reminded of how very grateful I am for this amazing life and journey I am on. And the cancer? I would have taken this trip even without the cancer, we had planned to do so. But my patience and tolerance is much higher now. Now that life has a different perspective. Now that my time is as precious to me as my father´s time. Now that I understand that I can do for myself, and in doing so, I give more to those I love.
Sweet sleep under flawless blue skies so filled with the bright energy of the sun. Tomorrow after breakfast we head to Barcarotta. I will post again when I can. If not until I get home, know that I am thinking of you all. and when I say; Ï miss you and wish you were here¨, that those words are from my heart with all the wish that I can send to you. The bands are playing outside for the festival, and I hope to sleep with the notes of the horns as they wave on the heat into my window.