Bare with me I promise this isn't as depressing as it sounds. See one of the only pictures I got of me on this trip via self timer as proof. 

Absolutely determined to write something again even although I don’t have a topic in mind. I’m sitting in Bar Postiguillo in Seville, the second tapas bar that came up on google maps and one that was luckily 3 minutes away from where I was when I was looking for respite from the rain. In the past 3 days I’ve hopped from Malaga to Granada to Seville and all three experiences were never going to be perfect, unfortunately Seville was the one took the hit. The rain is coming down sideways and has seeped through the laces of my shoes after I had spent the morning frantically finding the fastest/cheapest method of transport here from Granada after my initial 10am bus sold out burnt what little oil I had left in me after a few days of following a strict itinerary. That method ended up being a car share and was much more comfortable than any bus or train quadruple the price would’ve been, so never lose hope too fast. 

BUT - I’m here. I always joke about how my character gains a life or levels up each time I successfully solve a problem while solo travelling. Having dinner by yourself isn’t ideal by any means but you can eat where and when you want, and having turned my data off 10 minutes ago (75% of my way through the data that has to last me until early December) it’s dawned on me that it’s a literal sit down with yourself. Almost every word I’ve physically said today was piecing together a conversation with my Spanish speaking ride share driver, a woman I will always remember as being a complete lifesaver (and apparently “una salvadas” as opposed to “un salvidas” as she is not an object, but I still think that's wrong and I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone about it again hahaha). Speaking to people and constant introductions are equal parts completely routine and entirely strenuous. There is something so tiring in having to strip your life back to a few main points while still creating a decent image of yourself in another’s mind. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the start of a class, in a hostel or on a date. It’s exhausting.

Spending time by yourself when you are in a place where you can truly be happy in your own company is a blessing. It’s a chance to grow and recover and discover more of yourself than you had to time to figure out before. Walking every where this year has been a source of healing for me, and it’s provided training for manic tourism as a wee added bonus. I’ve become much more confident in myself in every aspect, which is ground I’ve covered in the last couple blogs so won’t bore myself or others with repetition but it’s still so true and proves itself so in the confidence to solve problems independently and to comfortably enjoy my own company for a few nights. 

It is unfortunate that Seville has suffered off the back of this trip but it’s what I get for cramming in as much as I can in such a short time. I’m still convinced I would have nailed this had the weather been better but you never know, I’m lucky I managed to get here at all. I still got to smell the citrus fruits (maybe orange, I don’t know if it counts as citrus but it smelled like it anyway) by the Real Alcázar and I got to climb the cathedral to spectacular albeit moody panoramic views of a city I’ve got so much yet to explore. 

Later in the day - from now on writing on the bus back from the airport in Palma - I went on to see the metropol umbrella which gave the cloudy and light polluted sky a wee bit of extra colour, I had the chance to dry off and I got to watch a flamenco show with the rare sound of heavy rain on the canopy roof incorporated into the performances. Unfortunately wasn’t able to cross a proper visit to the Alcazar off the list but that’s something for my eventual, now necessary, return. It was a funny and extremely memorable whistle stop trip - there isn’t an experience that can’t be salvaged (soggy feet and all), especially if you lost years off your life in stress trying to get to that point.

As of tomorrow I'm half way through my time living in Palma as an au pair and I feel more at home every day. The temperature has dropped a little in the past 2 weeks specifically and on cue my seemingly compulsive need to get ice cream almost every night has wavered and been replaced by a new need to spend any available hour during the day baking or thinking about what to have for dinner. Today I discovered that homemade shortbread is both easy and unbelievably comforting. Usually baking is my indication that I really feel at home somewhere, in Vancouver it took about a month to start back as well and even then I couldn't believe it took that long. Here is different - living in another family's home means that even at your most comfortable you are scared of overstepping. You can never really gauge someone's limits until they are pushed, and often that person doesn't know their limits until then either. The classic 'you never really know someone until you live with them' comes to mind here. That said, I'm extremely grateful for the family I'm with right now. I couldn't ask for two better kids to take care of and the family have made me feel as at home as they can. Spain itself feels more like home right now, I still never tire of going to the supermarket, getting on the bus or going on wanders through the same city centre streets everyday. Palma feels like a mini and more laid back Barcelona, with similarly beautiful modernist architecture and glorious beaches along the front. I'm enjoying getting to know a city you would easily look over if coming to Mallorca for the resorts or the nightlife. The locals are so friendly and so helpful considering my pitiful knowledge of Spanish or Catalan and my apparently dire ability to pick it up any faster. Between au pair work and teaching private English lessons I'm learning that I would be really happy as an educator but it's my fear of presentation and big groups that's holding me back. At this point I also can't remember what my diet was like when it wasn't made up mostly of tomatoes, avocados and fresh bread and it'll probably change my eating habits for years to come. Still can't get used to 10pm dinners though. 

Cue That Funny Feeling by Bo Burnham - why does the idea of settling in always feel so distinctly unsettling. The idea of always wanting/looking for something more feels extremely selfish and equally is something born out of almost excessive privilege. It's not something I'll sugarcoat or try to hide in this, I know that the feeling of wanting more is knowing that I have the opportunity to achieve it, and I am forever feeling extremely grateful that I've been able to do so much in such a short time already and that I'll likely be able to at least eventually do everything my heart burns to do. It's something I've been thinking about for a long time and something that I want to try and put into words more for my own peace of mind than anything - and I'm going to preface right now and say there will be no conclusion because I have none. Living in Glasgow is the best example at a glance. I'm caught between loving what is truly my home and wanting to get out and find that same sense of belonging elsewhere, and wondering that if I long to try and find 'belonging' anywhere else, then do I really belong in Glasgow? I'm getting to a point of being known for being a yes man and having FOMO regardless of what I'm missing out on or what I'm missing out on it for - and it's embarrassing. It's embarrassing to say that I wish I was at my best friend's sisters birthday party when I'm a few countries over walking on along the beach front. It's embarrassing that I'm spending my days immersing myself in one culture and feeling like I'm losing out on the experience of another. It's inherently selfish, and I've been embarrassed by it for years. 

A few months ago now, my family got bad news and the developments since, particularly while I've been away from home, haven't looked positive. It's the first time I've really been openly talked to like an adult about something as serious so my usual blissful ignorance towards it isn't an option (and it's about time I grew the fuck up and dealt with shit as it comes anyway). My first response to bad news is (and always has been) to keep myself busy, usually by putting myself into daily overdrive but over here, while already feeling unsettled, 'overdrive' means impulse. Impulsive trips, buses, walks, frantic activity. Nothing too out of the usual, just manifesting differently. Somehow this time I've accidentally began to let myself process the situation and for the first time in all the time I've spent from home in the past few years, I feel seriously homesick. Not enough in a way that would cause me to cut anything short, but it's something fueled by that same anxiety that comes with the fear of missing out. It's not that I want anything more, I'm just afraid of losing time. Life is too short. I'm constantly on edge about time passing to the point where I could tear my own hair out. I'm so excited for the future but simultaneously terrified of inevitable loss. It's something I've never been able to take advice about 'relaxing' about ('live in the moment' I'm TRYING, I promise. I'm so sorry). Every time I've been told that you have your whole life to do something my brain screams 'no you don't'. I'm someone who loves plans and lists but I'm late for everything and I love spontaneity and my own time but I always want company and I love to overshare but revel in the fact that no one actually knows what I do on a daily basis and I begin to panic and feel a sense of dread if things don't go exactly to plan. I want to fall in love and travel and have a family and have a solid career and spend as much time as I can with my parents while I'm in the position I'm in right now but I want to know a life in Canada too and experience Australia and NZ and I don't want to rush through any of it. I'm scared of seeing others age, of not knowing what I have when I have it. I'm scared that I don't really find myself pretty right now but it might be the prettiest I'll ever be, I'm scared of losing my physical abilities (but it's the one thing I feel like I do make the most of). I'm scared of losing people whether it's purely in presence or just losing touch. I want to take trains through mountains and drink coffee from Short Long Black everyday and I don't want burden my friends with my constant anxious state over everything and nothing at all. I don't want to be a source of second hand anxiety for others. I don't want people to feel like my presence is temporary, or for them to find me so insufferable that they enjoy knowing that my presence is temporary. I want people to know I love them. I want a hug from my mum. I don't know what to do about it. I'm very tired.