After two weeks traveling with guests on a faster track than I have been on in a while, I realized that I had not worked on the blog since the visit began.  I had taken photos but just downloaded them to the drive, waiting, waiting, waiting.  As we traveled to Sagunto, an old Iberian,Roman town, Toledo, Talavera de la Reina, El Escorial, Segovia and Madrid, there was an uneasiness in me.  I had not been making sense of my experience for me, my processing vehicle was silent.  

How did this happen?  Chasing the tourist experience is one explanation.  We were out of contemplative modes.  But as luck would have it, it was in this vacuum that I finally saw that while I don't meditate with the force of the Dalai Lama, the blog has been my meditation-my discipline.  I have been a dutiful daughter to the muse.  As a tool it offers me "ways in" to reach for what is coming through my eyes, all my senses.  It has been a grounding tool here in Spain.  Without the discipline and the sense of obedience to it, my experience here would have been less rich.

David said, "12 more days,Paula" two days ago.  And so it is.

  There are a few more photo shooting opportunities in the gardens in Valencia, a trek to a Ceramics museum in Paterna, the next town over, where we never got off the train because it was a seedy stop.  And we will purchase a few things that we want to add to our lifestyle in the U.S.  They have these fantastic ceramic plates that you can grill in the oven with.  So you plop your vegetables in olive oil, put them under the broiler and in a few minutes all the verduras are toasted and delightful.  So hopefully we will be able to incorporate not just the physical aspects of our trek into our new life, but also the walking, taking public transportation, being more present to how we live.

Back to the blog, it is something I will continue to do as a spiritual discipline somehow. A way to integrate experience, a way to bring in the new, re-evaluate the old.  Many of us beat ourselves up over not having the discipline to meditate like a pro or to follow a guru, or the determination to be the highest form of being possible.  We often emulate the yogis and others, without seeing the dedication to love, passion and enlightenment that moves from something as simple as committing to a blog. So here's an example of not listening to guidance, getting the message and regrouping via the images.

Two days ago I got off the metro at Campament a metro stop I have been wanting to explore, but haven't.  There is an old mill there that is in disrepair.  Every time I saw it on the metro ride into Valencia, I would say, "Someday."  Well, while we were gone to Murcia, the mill burned- the work of a couple of homeless folks.  I wondered what was left of it.  When we came back from Murcia, it had been torched again. My heart dropped into my stomach.  I should have stopped earlier and gotten it, when it had more integrity.  

Here's fire one...

Fire Number 2.

  Notice the roof is really gone in my photos.  At least I kept the newspapers these were in.  Finding these papers was ALSO quite serendipitous.  These are not in any major paper.  Just free papers available in train stations..... And I picked them up in different places... They were finding me.

David and Elisabeth had both said I shouldn't go IN the place alone.  Well, I crossed the metro tracks and  found a pathway between two fenced garden plots that were actively being tended.  I thought that was a good sign.  There were signs of dogs having been walked extensively there with urine and poop tantalizing the nostrils.  A row of huge century plants protected the gardens from the train tracks.  I got closer and saw the wire mesh surrounding the mill.  There was smoky residue on the walls, graffiti on the inside was visible, so others had been there before me, clearly.  It was quiet there.  I jumped a little when I saw a man walking down the side of the road with a Mercadona plastic bag in his hands. He passed.  So I pulled out the camera and took shots of the building- knowing it was pretty dangerous to wander inside.  The building looked like it could collapse. While many of the photos I have taken are not perfect photos, some out of focus, some grainy, low light. They reflect the feeling of being here. So my critical, judgmental eyes get to take a back seat.  Here the challenge was stepping into an abandoned  four hundred year old mill.  Included are some shots of the graffiti, the windows, the walls from different angles. See what they mean to you.  As a gal from Texas the one below looks like the Alamo.

I worked quickly and then  hopped over the tracks again and took some more recent graffiti shots.  I was the interloper along with all the others.  It has a history and soon it will be torn down because it is a danger to the community.  These were some of the shots that captured my attention.  It reminds me of an asbestos factory where my photo group went to shoot just before it closed for good.

Here I was a soon to be 59 year old woman crawling into places to get shots that were a little dicey, but I took a deep breath and went where angels fear to tread.   The "Yes" was somehow confirmation that I had taken the initiative and hadn't been captured by dangerous forces.

There is little doubt that Spain has changed us. Uprooting us from habits, teaching us that though we are mature adults, we don't have to be stodgy. There are adventures and explorations everywhere. So it's important not to get bogged down in the day to day and keep the spirits of the high seas about us.  Yesterday the electricity went out, we had to just be with the darkness for a few hours.  We do not know who to call, everyone in the neighborhood did not have electricity- so we just relaxed and eventually it came on.  We had candles at the ready.  In Fountain Hill, we would have gotten irritated, called PP&L and tapped our fingers on the counter top because something was getting in our way.  So time for new ways to take root and sprout ingenuity.

Coming home means throwing away many of the clothes we brought here, they are well-worn, lots have new holes from our washing machine which is also a thresher of sorts. Valencia this term has been way colder than we imagined.  I have worn a pair of shorts once.  In the last two weeks I've had my winter silk undies on, and there was snow in the hills north of Madrid.  So truthfully, I did not have to pack anything but winter clothes for  this trek.  Sun bathing has been at a minimum.  Our only beach experiences have been in Manga del Menor near Cartagena, it has much to do with expectations.  We are not big sunbathers anyway, walking by the beach is nice, but frying in hot oil doesn't work for either of us.

A curious thought occurred to me.  If I continue to process images and experiences, will anyone else be curious once I have my feet back in the US?  I don't know.  But I know I will continue to write because I have found a different voice.  Even if it's just for me, it's enough.