...i have met my soul mate. a beautiful boy from madrid. he lives at the hostel where i am staying this week. one night him and me and a couple of other kids were in the kitchen having dinner , and the spanish boy is going on and on about international mortgage laws and banks and the situation in venezuela and all other manner of serious things. he gets quiet all of a sudden and sighs, shakes his head just a bit, and, almost inaudibly says, "well anyway, theres just too much. and the truth is, all that matters in this world is cheese." the urge to kiss this boy is almost overwhelming, and i tell him, in a choked, heartfelt whisper, that i comlpetely agree. we talk about how his dream is not to be a lawyer, though hes three years into his law degree, but to open a cheese and wine shop in madrid. he has it all planned- the place, the layout of the store. he has blueprints. we talk of cheese and wine, and country by country i describe my interpretation of the terroir. i tell him that spain is my favorite- the terroir tastes of brushfires, victorious battles, romance, hot peppers and dark haired women in red dresses. i tell him that french wines are like benefactors, italian wines like your best friend, greek wines like marble and sandstone and electric blue oceans and sunburns, just the right amount of sunburn. this continues and we eat pecorino and laugh and he tells me that the way i talk, he knows im going to make it. and that one day i can come and work in his shop in madrid and sell my cheese there, too. he says the way i talk, he bets my cheese will be so good hell have it at his store not only as cheese of the week, but he best as cheese of the month. i want to marry this man.
...this morning it rained again and i sat in the window ledge at antonios and read "the catcher in the rye" in italian. i can almost understand it.
...there were a group of wild and trecherously good looking argentinians at my hostel. they would stay up late drinking and playing cards and the noise of their laughter and shouts kept the whole hostel awake for hours. i think they were too good looking to be told to be quiet, everyone was too intimidated to even go near them when they had that whiskey on their breath and those little grins playing across their mouths. the day after their crazy night, they sat in the kitchen smoking cigarettes and drinking mate , totally unrepentant. i loved this. i also found it terrifying. i wanted to go make a grilled cheese, but they were all over the kitchen and im too neurotic to cook in front of strangers, and handsom crazed argentinians in particular. so what i did...i went and put on my batman sandals...
...the night before i left cormons, i was in my kitchen packing my bags, and there was a knock on my door. it was an italian boy, mathieu, a cute boy from sicily who i was aquainted with from various nights spent having sing alongs in the grass with my argentinian neighbors. mathieu asked if i would like to come next door, to where the argentinians and a handful of the italians were having a celebration of sorts. i went over and we all drank and sang as usual, and later in the evening the boys decided that they wanted to dance. one of the boys, this cute, sweet, shy boy named diego who was always so so sweet to me put on some music from argentina and commenced to teach me how to dance. the thing about argentinians, lord can they move, all hips and twirls and quick steady feet and i was dizzy and laughing and being held in the arms of a master, twisted and spun and when i got close i would bury my face into his neck and breath so deep and then hold his hand tight as he swung me back out again. we seemed to dance forever, and finally, exhausted, we all layed on the damp cold grass and talked. i told diego that i had always admired these shoes of his, these fantastic plastic shower sandals that he always wore, black with a strap that had the batman insignia. i thought these were the greatest shoes id ever seen, and i told him so, and how my little brother had seen a picture of these shoes on facebook and told he how he admired them too. diego laughed and got up and went inside, returning with the sandals. he told me that he loved that i loved them, and that they were now a gift from him to me. i was overwhelmed with gratitude and thanked him a million times over, and planned on mailing them to grant for a christmas surprise. the thing is, i never got around to mailing them. im too broke to mail shoes internationally and also, i just love those shoes so, so much. they are just so awesome and they make me think of diego and dancing in the cold december cormons air and singing songs and drinking mate and when i wear them i smile and feel so happy...
...so the other day when i was so intimidated by the argentinians in the kitchen, i went and put on my batman sandals. this made me feel brave and in tune with the boys in the kitchen, subconsciously connected to them i a way. i went in and made my sandwich and reveled in past friendships and present moments and how tiny the world actually is and the reality of superheros and wonderful gifts and good cheese and foreign languages and foreign accents and dancing and the connectedness of it all, how in the end it all comes back around if you let it, if you want it to.
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