Practice Explorations

One odd thing i have noted about the Canary Islands are the shockily low numbers of thrift stores that are available to the average citizen. And when i say shockily low i mean there are none.

Practice explorations are something i find to be a good exersize. You dont want to find yourself at the heart of Europe only to find that you are an amateur explorer.

and that is why you practice.

practice always.

In your room, on the street over- the one with all the trees and the guy with the bike. Practice in your best friends car or at your neighbors house and at public swimming pools.  practice. 

Mostly just practice because it has been said that "practice makes perfect" and in fact practice has been making perfect since the 1500s when John Adams noticed it.

So while i was practicing, i happened upon a little sprinkle of zen from the gods. I didnt get a good look at the place because i was walking so close and this place was so tall but inside i saw what looked to be a thirft store and before i could think it through i found myself inside face to face with an older gentlemen- greeting me in spanish. We both stood there confused. until he waved his hands around and said, "one Euro".

and "llamo Antonio."

This is a thrift shop! i thought.
then out of excitement i thought it a little louder, THIS IS A THRIFT SHOP!

My natural hunter and gatherer instincts were quickly put to use and then i realized- the place was huge.

"26 room." he said.

With wide eyes i told Antonio that i was American and had never seen anything like this in my life.

in my life.

Antonio, being a man of few words- due to his language barrier- let me explore his home. I am unsure as to  why Antonio allowed such an invasion but one thing i am sure. He didnt want to be the one to further deprive an american of experiencing culture and for that i am thankful.

This house was indescribable but for your sake i will try.

Each wall was a different color with so much detail you couldn't take see it all. It was simply that your eyes couldnt take it all in. There is no way to experience the fullness of this house because the house its self would not let you. it seemed to be a chameleon changing shape and color with every blink you took.

Thats why i didnt blink the entire time i was in there.

Their were moldings in the walls, and photos hanging everywhere, painting and tapestries too. The walls were wearing gifts from all around the world. Next to the American Twin tours hung the pyramids of Egypt.

And then there was stuff. stuff on the floors, stuff on the furniture, stuff on stuff.

Each new room seemed to be from a different time. "26 rooms" Antonio reminded.

The stair case sat in the center house- venturing up as far as the ceiling would allow. Rooms had windows not to the outside but to other rooms.

i could go on.

i bought a few necklaces from this man. photographed him. (practicing good exploration documentation protocol) and was on my way.

I got to the bench 10 yards away from his house.

I am my mothers daugher and i needed one more tiny glance inside.

Just a small one. "il just walk right by, like iv lost my way, and have a glance." i said to myself as i tried to justify what i was doing as a sane and normal thing to do.

so thats what i did-  only it wasnt just a glance. and he saw me.

Again finding myself face to face with this man called Antonio.  we staired at each other, both confused and embarrased.

so i handled it the way any mature, 22 year old, adult woman would.

i giggled.

and as i was trying to explain my self he held up a bracelet, gave it to me and said,"gift".

"i buy you coffee." he went on.

So because i was embarrassed and because he was already on the street walking, i followed him.

And then Antonio and I had coffee at a small cafe.

in silence. 

love,
Ash

Rain bow houses for Grandma

I went running again.

This time on a path, however i still managed to pick up three really nice rocks.

Right out side my apartment is the ocean. I can see nine ships resting right close and nestled up to the big blue with the ships on it- is a path.

This is the path i took.

I ran until the path was over and it its place a line of colorful houses. When i say colorful houses i mean i ran right into a rain bow. The homes were dressed in the brightest of yellows, crayola blue next to baby blue, purple and pink. There was red and lime green too.

When i say homes you probably think of small little houses, with slanted roof tops and brown front doors. But what i really mean when i say homes are imperfect squares stacked on top of rectangles.  What i mean is more like a puzzle. You see, what i mean is someones art work. Im talking about going into a paint store and picking your favorite paint swatches...and then dropping them. And then taking a picture and building your home. and not just your home but your neighbors home and his neighbors home too.

and what do you use for a door at the end? well what ever you can find. of course.

& in case this isnt enought they go ahead and smash up green beer bottles and glue them to the tops of their houses making them sparkle in the sun.

In this narrow street of rainbow houses i found kids playing soccer, laughing with Spanish words flying. Salt water with a black pebbled beach for a back yard. People walking their dogs and saying Hola to other people walking their dogs. Old men being old men and one loner with one fishing pole. I found mystery and happiness. But most of all what i found was creativity beyond anything id ever seen. Things i didnt know were real. So much to look at and discover. You can hardly finish one thought before you start another because there is so much trying to fit into your small eyes. Details detailing the details. Not wanting to miss a thing. And it feels like that all the time.

These people live life so hard.

and they do it in imperfect squares.

not missing out on one thing.

-Ash

The cab driver.

Our cab drivers name was Adrian. 

Adrian takes us to and from Spanish and we love him for it.

Adrian speaks English and we also love him for that.

Adrian plays his music really loud. and we sing to it. also really loud. Adrian bobs his head to the beat. and we giggle because we are girls and also because we are a little shy.

Today Thrift Shop by Macklemore came on the radio while we were riding with Adrian. Adrian listens to his music loud. We sang while he weaved us though the narrow and busy canary streets.

If you know that song then you also know that it is a wild one.
FACT: In the canary islands they replace F*** with Woah for the song thrift shop.

FACT: Adrian is the nicest cab driver i have ever come across.

Adrian drives us to and from Spanish. Adrian then gets out of his cab and walks with us to find our spanish teacher. Adrian tells us about Aquavivas and how to say chill out.

Adrian is the name of our cab driver, he speaks english and we love him for that. He takes us to and from spanish. we love him for that too.

The science of language

Today my Spanish teacher, Isa, told me that language goes clear to your soul. Traveling, she said, opens up your mind.  You see the people and that they are so different from you but the same. It opens up your mind and your world. It changes the way that you think. You can no longer say that the way you do things are better than others and that is beautiful. Leave home and explore, you can always go back, but not until after you have seen.

You speak English from behind, Spanish in the middle and french in the front, she said.

"Tell me what you learned today, tell me what you loved that you will never forget."
-Isa

I am my mothers daughter

A few days back i went to the beach. for a run.

Iv always wanted to go running along the beach.

We (megan and i) layed out our towels and peeled off our sweaters, we were ready and nothing was going to stop us.

ok, nothing was going to stop Megan.

What you dont think about when you see runners on the beach is how much restraint they have to stay on focused on the task at hand. You just look at them and think," how relaxing" when really, it isnt relaxing at all. in fact i would go as far as to say its the most stressful thing i have ever experienced.

A light jog on the beach. You start off and things are fine, swell even. The sand is hard and easy to run on, the waves are coming in and lets be honest, its beautiful. Your feeling really good about yourself. Your thinking, "i should start a blog." Your being really optimistic, even considering sending a brief synopsis of your life story to Nicholas Sparks website where it might be useful for inspiration in his next book. - and thats when it happens. The glimmer that catches your eye. You look down and what do you find? Sea glass. You pick this one up, "hey this isn't so bad, i can carry this." you say to yourself as you smile down at the most precious treasure on the whole beach. And you go on. A minute passes and the inevitable happens, another piece of perfect sea glass. You pick it up but it's fine because of course this happens all of the time. People go running on the beach and they find a few things. Morale is high and you even realize the two pieces of sea glass you found fit in the pocket of your spandex running shorts. But at about this time is when you start to notice that the two pieces of sea glass you tucked safely away in the pocket of you spandex running shorts turned into the 10 pieces of perfect sea glass you tucked safely away into the pocket of your now bulging spandex running shorts. Realizing how stupid you must look, and more importantly growing tired of the struggle to keep your spandex running shorts up you decide to split up the weight. Isn't that what sports bras are for? Carrying the things you find on your run? "Absolutely!" you think to yourself. Your on your way again only the supply for beach treasure just keeps growing and the demand is at an all time high. Unable to stop yourself you are now having that light jog carrying a bra, shorts and two fist fulls of sand glass. "its fine", you tell yourself. "People jog with weights all the time." But then you start loosing things, a piece here, a piece there. The stress of the situation bearing down on you leaves you with no choice but to stop and gather yourself. And then it hits you, "take your shirt of and turn it into a satchel!" and because you are brilliant, and because you are desperate, you do. Again you are running and how free you feel! all that weight gone. Life is good. but then you see it. The rocks stretching out into the ocean so inviting, practically pulling you into them. You reason with your self, "loosen up, who goes for a run and doesn't explore a little". You take yourself out to the farthest rock and the earth is layed out in front of you, a crab comes out of its hole. And just like that you realize you need to find your zen. You tell yourself, "How long can finding your zen really take , this is important anyway" and thats when you notice your running buddy run by, scowling. This is about the same time when you notice its been a half an hour and your running buddy ran the whole beach and no longer wants you for a running buddy and by the way she exclaimed she didn't know your zen was lost, you can tell she so obviously doesn't believe in things like chakras.

but, its fine- you tell yourself, because ...

 "i found my zen".

 And that you did.

"The meaning of terror" - Megan Church

If you are ever going to rob megan, may i suggest doing it at the dead of night. Dont mind her being there, she will just be rolled up in a ball in the corner. Sobing quietly.  Her weapon of choice?

A damn pillow.

You never know yourself until you have seen your self in the face of disaster.

Which brings me to last night.

I went in to our room to find Megan, asleep on the air matress when there was clearly a bed she could be using so naturally i woke her up to tell her. This is when i decided i would never do that again. For the next half hour she single handedly defined the term shit show. Sometimes when a window is open at our house it will cause the doors to open and close. Imagine, there we are.. laying in bed & minding our own when the door starts to creak open just a little. There was tension as each of us refused to turn the light on but it was fineeeee. Fine until the door slammed and we found our selves standing on some pretty high stakes. At the point of the door slam, megan rolled off her bed and down to the ground where she curled into a ball and began to cry. Crying real tears. In between sobbing and putting her face in the pillow she managed to tell the robber or rapist, or homeless man ect. that and i quote, "We have no means to contact anyone that could help us Ashley, no phones and we dont even know the number for 911 over here. We are going to die. "

I could go on about this story however i will not, my sole purpose was to express to the world the importance of finding a best friend you can count on in times of turbulance.

on a lighter note, i will be holding new best friend auditions on the 12th of august. My place.

sincerly,
disappointed.

Shooting stars.

From my bed room window you can see the ocean.

There is an identical apartment building a crossed from my own. You can see that too.

Sometimes, if you wait long enough you can see quirky things happening in the windows. My favorite was a man. I know it was a man because of the hair on his arms, and that was the only clue i had to who this person was. That, and that he smoked.

The windows in Spain are dressed funny. Some of them have metal covers that you can pull down when you want to hide. Mine do. and because mine do, so do the windows a crossed from me.

This particular window was hiding. It was a gray day which makes hiding prime. After a long while the window opened from the bottom just slightly. It was then that i met the hairy arm. The hairy arm also had a leg. I know because i saw him using it to sit on the window seal. Thats all i saw for a long while, but not the kind of long while that puts you to sleep more like the kind of while that it feels like when you are waiting for the shower to get hot. Then it happened. The hairy arm showed himself and in his hand a cigarette. The man sitting in the window seal was uncomfterably straining himself to quietly smoke a cig. and in my mind i wanted to know why. I didnt want to know simply to know or because i was curious even.

And so i concluded that really, it was that i didnt want to know. I like the half shown stories these windows could tell.

This brings me to my own story. Looking out my own square in the building, thinking of the picture my window was painting- I saw a shooting star. From my bed room window you can see the ocean. There is an identical apartment building a crossed from my own and you can see that too. Sometimes, if you wait long enough you can see quirky things happening in the windows and to someone that night i was that thing. A girl, maybe 22 (or 14..hard to tell when its dark) wishing on a star.

Maybe.

How to be an expolorer of the world.

I have left my country once before. 

It was nice, and i will never forget it.

The first time you leave your country in my opinion is the truest and most spiritual experience.

I love the Canary Islands and the first time i came here i found myself, but it wasn't just the island that showed me who i was, it was the world. I still don't fully know and that's ok. I have yet to see all there is to see. My eyes were opened that first time and since then i have realized the picture i have been looking at my whole life is so much bigger than i ever imagined. (kind of like when you are cleaning out your shower drain because youve been taking bath/showers for the past month and you see a cluster of hair and think,"ew gross, let me get that" so you do. you start pulling it out- only then you realize its a whole lot bigger then you thought and as its coming out from way down in your drain your thinking, "ew gross" and your kinda shocked but also thinking, "this is kinda cool because now my shower will drain"... but also because its your hair that did that-which makes you think, "ew gross. again."

The first country besides my own i ever saw was Spain. My plane from America landed in Madrid last summer and for the first time i took a breath of foreign air. To my surprise it was just like the air iv always breathed and thats when i realized,

1. I had been misled in elementary school.
2. I could leave the oxygen mask on the plane
3. I didnt need to be as scared as i was.

I was scared to leave my home. Really scared. In fact, i was so scared that i can honestly say  it was the bravest thing i have ever done, but as i got off that plane and had the thought, "they breath the same air" i suprised myself. I thought of course they do, but thats when i realized

4. that all along i really wasn't sure they did.

This lead me to realizing how clueless i was and also how small. Which then lead to me discovering myself and eventually to this blog where you too can become an explorer of the world.


and also to not try and take the oxygen masks off the plane with you as the flight attendants get testy about it.

 and they don't think its funny.

love,
Ash