Foto de Nihihiro & Shihiro (Flickr)
I'm going on vacations. Yes, once again. This time they are also David's vacations, one of the few we have taken as a family the three of us. Because, really, going to Spain at Christmas time, and running around from one place to the other to see the families is not exactly what I call a relaxing vacation, believe me.
We are going on a road trip, from Seattle to the Grand Canyon, visiting all kinds of hot steaming deserts and National Parks in Nevada, Utah,and Arizona. I can't wait to be surrounded by red dirt, sweating, camping, and shooting pictures in one of the most amazing landscapes in the world. It will be a good way to recharge batteries to get back to the Alaskan winter in late September.
I hope to come back full of pictures like the one I borrowed to put up there.
The last time I changed decades, I woke up with a huge smile on my lips, and feeling very happy. Today I don't feel the same happiness and I miss it. Today, I don't really know what I feel. Maybe I'm just getting older...
Anyhow, I wish myself a happy birthday, I give myself a pretty flower, and I especially hope that every woman over 40 that I've talked to and has told me that the good stuff starts now, is right.
Every time I get the gift of spending a few days in my favorite place on the planet, Some of my old ghosts come along for the ride. This is not a new feeling, in fact it's quite common every time I go back home to Spain. 
Castiñeiras is a place packed with memories of another time of my life. Memories I like to remember, even though I have forgotten many along the way. Sensations and feelings that I know belong to a long gone time in my life where days were dark and bright at once. With all, pieces of a life that has made me who I am today. And every now and then it's good to remember and at times even relive.
Castiñeiras bring along, especially, long lazy hours full of sun and sand filled with many memories. Never ending nights chasing falling stars and drinking "queimada" on the rocks... and I don't mean with ice. Wild parties that even today, twenty years later, many in town remember, even those who weren't invited... or especially them. Having breakfast right out of the tree in the morning... or early afternoon more often than not. Hours and hours picking up little pieces of color among the grains of sand in the beach... yes, I have some odd hobbies. Solitude, rain, saxophones...Times long gone that still today elicit smiles and complicities. Times that are very much linked to my brother, one of the four most important men in my life and who I love with all my heart. He knows it. 
These days have been great thought short. Anyway, in Castiñeiras, even two months would fly by. The weather has not been all that great, but we were able to enjoy the beach a few days. 
Naím and I have enjoyed the family in bits and pieces. Some days Abuelo was there, others only Uncle was, others everyone was there, and we even enjoyed the visit of my sisters-in-law who had never been here before. We even spent a couple days on our own, and had a very cute and unexpected encounter with Peke, one of the regular readers of the Spanish version of this blog, who I had not met in person before. 
Even though I'm leaving this place, it always stays close to my heart. And a piece of my heart always gets trapped in the sand and stays resting among tiny granite crumbs, little colors, and white pieces of shells. I can't have it any other way.
The Madrid section of the trip has come to an end. There have been many beautiful moments and in each home I have felt like in my own. We've spent a few days with my mother-in-law, my sisters-in-law and lots of swimming pool time to combat the outrageous heat we've had these days.
I will be forever grateful to my mother-in-law for giving me some of the few real vacation moments I have during the entire year. To be able to sit and read for four or five hours without interruption is a luxury that I don't enjoy very often in daily life. Naím adores his "yaya" and with her he is able to forget about mommmy for a while. It's important to remember that mommy is the only stable element in these days of lots of people, lots of traveling, and five different beds in one week. 
Aside from family time, it has also been friends' time. Friends that have been there for over 15 years and will continue to be there forever, regardless of the physical distance. Those kind of friends that you can count with the fingers of one hand.
We had our moments of african traditions... 
New friends...
Jazz concerts in the town's square, while storks watched from above... 
And of course, soccer, lots of soccer. Oddly enough, Naím loves soccer, and I say oddly because neither his dad or myself ever play (but of course we're starting to). I don't usually care much about soccer, but whenever there are international competitions like these days with the European Cup, I fill up with a wave of patriotic love and watch enthusiastically how our 11 guys chase the black and white ball around the field. And hey, we won the championship, which hadn't happened in 44 years!!! With Spain's love for partying, you have no idea what kinds of celebrations this event brought about. Spain is different, truly! 
Tomorrow we will be on our way to Galicia. My father didn't have the patience to wait for our arrival, so he is coming to pick us up and drive us back home. So, it will be a six hour road trip. I hope the weather keeps up, though you never know in Galicia.
They finally had a name, after two months of living with us. Mortadelo & Filemón, two of the most famous Spanish comic book heroes. They kind of had a resemblance. One was tall and skinny. The other short and chubby.
Two days before my trip, we asked Abe, the other co-owner of the goats, to take them with him, since David was also going to be away for a few days. We had plans to share them throughout the summer, a couple weeks here, a couple weeks there. They are fantastic lawn mowers and since grass in Alaska grows very very fast int he summer, they were eating a lot and we were happy.
Abe took them to his cabin up river, a few miles away from the nearest town. He had built them a fenced shed and they were happy. That is, until a bear ate them up a couple of days ago.
That's life in Alaska for you, you look the other way and here comes a bear to eat up your goats. Sad... they were so tremendously cute...
I would´ve never imagined it, but when landing in Europe I realized that my body had grown unaccostumed to the heat. It is a strange sensation to readapt myself to walk around with a half naked body, sweating, and being thankful of every air conditioning opportunity.
The first part of my trip has been Barcelona. Two great days spent in the warmest 24 square meters of the entire city. And the warmth was not just because of the heat, even though there was a lot of it in the little apartment, but because of my lovely sister Chío. The visit was really short and I can´t wait to meet up with her again in Galicia, even if it will just be for a couple of days again. She has performed her auntie duties beautifully, even though she doesn´t get to practice much because we live so far away. 
We didn´t see too much of the city, but we took a couple of short trips that were absolutely fantastic. On Monday we went to the beach to a small village called l´Hospitalet de l´Infant and also visited the beautiful town of Roc de Sant Gaietá. It was too bad I didn´t take my camera with meto share some of the beautiful images I now keep in my head, so I´m borrowing one from the Internet for the fist time. Tapas and San Juan´s night fireworks. An indescribable pleasure.
For the sake of balancing out the beach with some mountains, the next day we visited Montserrat. This is the mountain that honors the fifth of my names, and yes, I have five names just as if I was of royal blood, but that´s another story. Beautiful, truly amazing. The sun was not out, which was great because it was very hot anyway. Naím had a great time running around, chasing birds and butterflies, and resting on top of his aunt´s shoulders. And his mom was grateful to be walking around in the wilderness without having to worry about bears or moose popping out of every corner. What a restful pleasure. 
Once back in Barcelona, we visited the famous Parc Güell, which I had never seen before. It was almost empty, so it was wonderful to be able to walk around without the hordes of tourists that usually fill the place. I love Gaudí and his eccentric
architectural imagination. 
As a linguistic detail, I will mention that these days Naím has learned a new word: firecracker. I doubt he will ever forget it
Thank you sister, for your hospitality and for being so truly yourself as you always are. I love you.
Eighteen. I´ve counted them. Eighteen mosquitoes just on the very top of my friend´s hood. And that´s only on the right side of her head. I don´t want to think how many more were landing all over her body... and mine.
The invasion has started a couple of days ago. And it´s just starting. They say that within three weeks it will be at its peak. I don´t even want to think about it.
SO I´ve decided to flee the scene and with my terrified son, take off for a few weeks and go sunbathe far away from the mosquitoes. I´m leaving for my galician beaches, where mosquitoes come out discreetly in the evening. I´m going to enjoy my family, friends, sun, and of course some good seafood and great Albariño wine.
So here I go again, from here to there...
Aniak, Alaska
May 2008
There is a lot of water all around these days. It's very gratifying to walk around just staring at the ground. And no, it's not a small river. Just a big puddle.
"Lost in the Ice"
Aniak, Alaska
May 9, 2008
Yesterday at 3 pm the phone rang. "The river has just broken, let's go." So we went. Break-up is the big spring event. Days before, everyone is watching the river and trying to read the signs that announce it. And as soon as the first crack sounds, everyone in town knows about it.
Once it starts, there is no going back. The dike becomes the observation point. Everyone in town drops by to check out the river during the day, and there are parties and bonfires at night... or whatever you're supposed to call that time of the day when it should be dark but it's really not all that dark anymore
While the river does its thing, we are all watching closely the changes in the ice. Is it rising? Is it not? Is it flowing? Has it fully stopped? It's quite a show that nature gifts us with. The river changes constantly and those changes involve long quiet hours where it seems like nothing is really happening out there. However, every time we go watch, it looks completely different.
Now we will just have to wait and hope that all those ice blocks that come floating by don't get stuck down river and flood us. There are already lists posted with emergency numbers and shelters. People are starting to bring their dogs and motor vehicles to high ground, gathering enough food at home of the kind that doesn't need water for preparation, as well as drinking and cooking water in containers, and making sure the boats are handy in case they end up needing them. We don't have a boat, so we'll have to manage with a kayak and a raft, in the worse case scenario.
In a way, the idea of flooding sounds almost exciting. And it is also true that at this point, I rather find excitement in a different way. Sometimes it is good to leave the new experiences and constant challenges on the side for a while, and chill out enjoying that which has already become familiar.
So the time has come to wait and hope for the best, since there is nothing else I can do about it.
"The road back home"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008
At 40 below, life slows down. At least, my life slows down, because truly, in town, until temperatures reach 50 below life goes on more or less as usual. Schools are open, and so are the store, the clinic, and the post office. Beyond 50 below, people stay home, kids don't go to school, and cars don't want to start.
I've been staying indoors for a few days, except for some short trips to the shed to fetch wood for the stove. Temperatures have been dancing between 30 and 40 below for the past couple of weeks. My usual means of transportation, the ATV, doesn't start at 30 below. And walking I can reach the neighbor's house before I start worrying if my son has frozen to death in the backpack. So life these days doesn't really offer much else to think about other than the freezing cold out there. I'm still not used to it and my tolerance is low in comparison to some of the people that live here.
Of course, it's essential to dress up accosdingly. In winter here, you don't really wear winter clothes, but serious mountain gear. The kind you wear if you were to climb Mount Everest, almost. Of course, no cotton clothes, which are the worst for cold weather (small detail I have leaned by freezing my butt off a couple times). Of course, always wear layers, onion style, so you can take them off accordingly depending on where you are going, how high they have set their thermostat, and how long you're planning on staying. Snow pants on top of regular warm pants, since skirts here are really never in fashion. Boots that advertise as keeping your feet warm at 70 below, which is not true, but at least you know that you can stay warm at 30 below. And a good expensive parka, because you can't be cheap with your winter clothes in Alaska or you risk a frozen death.
To top it all off, get yourself a good fur hat, a facemask, a good scarf up to your eyes, and a couple pairs of gloves. Basically all that remains to be seen of your body are your eyes, as long as you're walking and there is no wind.Otherwise, add a good pair of googles, that hopefully don't fog up too easily.
I can assure you that the worst part is not trying to move with anything that resembles class and style, but getting all of this gear on you before you leave the house. By the time you are ready to go, you are usually drenched in sweat. It's essential to develop a technique that will allow you to accomplish this process in the minimum amount of time, to avoid profuse sweating. And no, you can't wait until you get outside to put on the mask, scarf, hat and gloves. At 40 below, by the time you get your gloves on, your hands have already frozen and there is no way they will warm up while you're out there.
There is a very interesting phenomenon that happens when you reach subzero temperatures. It's easy to get used to, but at first is very peculiar. With each inhale the inside of your nostrils freeze up, and with each exhale, they thaw. The sensation is hard to describe, because I have never experienced anything even remotely similar. Imagine a thin layer of ice filling the inside of your nose and cracking if you move your nose around like a little bunny rabbit. In this temperature, you do have no other option than to breathe through your nose, so the air that comes in can warm up slightly. And every little bit of warmth is vital these days.
Today we have woken up to a whoopin' 38 below, and by mid afternoon we were at 1 below. A difference of almost 40 degrees Farenheit in 8 hours! That's pretty wild. It seems like temperatures may stay "high" like this for a few days. If so, we will be able to go for a walk, skiing, or snow machining without freezing up along the way.
Everything is relative, of course, and the way we judge things depends on the color of the glasses you are wearing that day and that latitude in which you happen to live. Who could have ever imagined that zero degrees F would some day be a fan-tas-tic temperature.
"Afternoon stories"
Amiak, AK
July 2007
It used to be that when people packed their bags and left everything behind to go to a far away land, that land was usually exactly that: far away. Sometimes even very far away, like a different planet. It used to be that the only means of communication was the postal service, and letters could take years to reach their destination, if they ever did. With time and the increased generalized use of the telephone, we started being able to speak directly with our loved ones that were far away. It could take hours to get an international conference set up and when you finally had it, it could drop any minute. But it was good. anyhow, it used to be that if you were away from your people, you were away, and the distance was palpable.
Nowadays, with all the technological inventions that have become part of our daily lives, those insurmountable distances have ceased to exist. And the great culprit is, no doubt about it, the Internet.
For starters, if it weren't for the Internet, I would've never met David. If it weren't for the Internet, he would've never known about this job in Alaska. And if it weren't for the Internet, I would've never agreed to leave my life in Seattle and move to Aniak.
Moving to a small village near the tundra in Southwest rural Alaska was not in my plans for the future. A small village where 527 of the 13.000 people of the Kuskokwim watershed live. This area is about half the size of Spain and it's really easy to feel isolated and alone. A village where there is no cellphones. A town where there is only one radio station that I have found so far, KYUK from Bethel, which sounds kind of surreal in my ears because of the mix of music from my teenage years (Sex Pistols, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin...) with long and slow talks in Yup'ik, language that I don't understand. A village to which we have not brought a TV because it's been a long time since we've had one. A village that is far, far away. Not from Siberia, though, it's actually pretty close from Siberia, just a couple hours by small plane probably. But far away from all the people I love, from everything that is familiar, and from all my favorite places on the planet.
Thankfully, this small village got satellite Internet connection 3 months before we arrived. And suddenly this village doesn't seem so far away. From that village, lost in the middle of one of the largest extensions of wilderness left on the planet, I open windows to other worlds every day. My friends drop by to chat in the mornings, grandpa shows up to enjoy Naím's smile for a while, grandma comes over to sing a few songs to him, I say hi to people here and there when I run into them in the ciber-street, I find pieces of people's lives that I enjoy reading...
And even though it's true that the senses of touch, taste, and smell are not a part of the experience of being with those that are far away and close at the same time, sight and sound are. So, even if the experience is incomplete, the company is very real and the feeling of loneliness and distance become less intense. Thanks for being there.
"Ice Road"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008
Yesterday I did what I thought would take me months to do (or years, perhaps). I was able to gather all my courage and cross the frozen river without freaking out completely. It may not sound that scary, but when I think that under that frozen layer of ice, that may be a few feet thick run the cold waters of the Kuskokwim river, the longest free-flowing river in the US, things get a little scary. I was scared to death! I will admit that when I realized we were on ice, not land, for a few seconds I thought my heart had stopped, but I was able to relax and enjoy the ride pretty quickly.
At this time of the year, the water is sufficiently frozen so that a large part of the river is used as an Ice Road. It is the only time of the year that you can leave town and go anywhere on wheels. In the summer you can only travel by boat, since we are fully surrounded by water on all sides. And during freeze-up and break-up, there is just no moving around anywhere unless you are flying.
Snow machines, four-wheelers, pick-ups, and even bigger trucks go on the river when the Ice Road officially opens. And even though this information should offer some sense of security to a total Alaska newbie like me, it is also true that here and there you can run into open water or overflow, and you need to recognize them easily in order to avoid them. Everyone in town seems to have a scary story about when they traveled on the river, fell through open water, and miraculously saved their lives. So the security that the first sentence could offer gets brutally destroyed by the second one. It's also true that a great number of the accidents that occur in the river are accompanied by darkness and alcoholism, but it was still scary for me, even in bright daylight.
I am very proud of having conquered one of my biggest fears in this little corner of the world. Once more, I see that we do gain in strength and courage after we do something that we were afraid of doing. It becomes important to reduce the mental space that the incessant chatter of our fears occupies in our brains, so our energy can be transformed into action. Giving in to our fears only increases them, and this usually has a paralyzing effect. With this cold, being paralyzed in not such a good idea.
"Home and steam house"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008
For the past two weeks, we have had no running water. Even though melting snow on the wood stove may have a romantic touch to it, it surely disappears completely when it's time to wash dishes. Today, finally, the house has return to its normal state and water runs through the pipes, carrying incredible amounts of rust along. But that is what you get when you live here in Aniak.
I do have to say that we have been very lucky. Somehow it has been possible that George, one of the few handymen in Aniak, in a record time of two weeks, has found and installed for us a new water pump. In Aniak, this is ahuge. And I'm not kidding. Here the norm is that anybody will make you wait for months before deciding to do any kind of work for you. Because they feel like it, because they can, and because they don't want to work too hard. Or maybe it's just that they don't like us foreigners. Anyway, you can't open the yellow pages and call another plumber, because there are no yellow pages and no other plumbers.
The few businesses in town are a grocery store, a gas station, and a cute and very small pizza cabin. Coming from the country that probably has the greatest number of bars, restaurants, coffee shops and pubs per square mile, living in a town where there is no place for social gathering other than Bingo is odd, to say the least. We have bingo of course, but no restaurants or bars.
I'm losing my train of thought here, let me regroup. Being without running water for two weeks has made me think about the little attention that we place on so many things that we take for granted in or "civilized" civilization. To open a faucet and have cold or hot water instantly. Hit a light switch and light appears. Put dirty clothes in a machine and they come out clean. Flush the toilet and get rid of your shit. Commodities that nowadays we take for granted and even think we have the right to have. And no, what they really are is a luxury.
My daily shower has always been my favorite moment of the day to go through the list of things that I am thankful for in my life. Now my list includes things such as a water pump, a washer, and a water pipe, even if it's all rusty.
"Randi"
Aniak, AK
January 2008
Today, the family has grown. Just like that, without warning, a young dog has found his way into our home. Black, white spot on his chest, hair not long or short. Shy, scared, he looks almost like a puppy and has that look in his eyes so characteristic of dogs that have been mistreated in the past. For months now I've been holding my ground about not having a dog again, but those eyes won the battle today. Naím has named him Randi and Tola has seriously hissed at him to let him know who is the real boss around here.
Randi will be a good companion at home during David's numerous trips. He will also be great on our hikes. It's always nice to have a dog with you in addition to a GPS, so necessary to go anywhere in this chaotic wilderness that surrounds us. We will have to see how he reacts to the presence of a wild animal, whenever we encounter one. Here they say that if a dog is unable to jump between a bear (or any other animal) and you in order to defend his owner from an attack, you are better off shooting him dead. Tough people up here.
In Aniak, no home is without dogs. At least two or three, and up to fifteen or twenty in some cases. Most of them are sled dogs. After moose season is over, in late September, they start running the dogs using the four-wheelers, getting ready for winter. Many people here are into mushing. It used to be the common transportation many years ago, but with the introduction of the small planes first and the snow machine later, they have been relegated to a winter hobby.
Perhaps you have heard about the Iditarod, the most famous sled dog race in Alaska. It starts in Anchorage and goes all the way to Nome, about 1200 miles west. This annual race commemorates that twenty of Alaska’s best mushers and their teams took a five day journey in 1925, through part of this same trail, to deliver medication to Nome. Because of this, it was possible to avoid a larger expansion of a diphtheria epidemic in the area. Be aware that the epidemics killed about 60% of the native population in the beginning of the 20th century. Because of this, the members of the expedition (both men and dogs alike) are considered national heroes.
Each area in Alaska has its own personal Iditarod race. The one in Aniak is the K-300 and sadly, it ended the day before we arrived back in town from our Christmas vacation, so we couldn't see it as it came through town. We will have to wait for next year.
In the meanwhile, maybe we can start training Randi to pull Naím's sled.
"Before night falls"
Castro de Baroña, A Coruña
December 2007
There are days in which optimism, happiness, and the desire to stay in Alaska just evaporate. The same than the water on the pan on top of my wood stove, which helps improve the relative humidity of the air.
Those are usually also days in which I am always cold, I have a harder time taking care of myself, I feel very lazy to do any yoga even though I am aware that I feel much better afterward... Those days in which things don't seem to make much sense. In those days, the only activities with a clear objective are those related to cleaning, cooking and being a mother. en fin, en los que en que las cosas parecen no tener mucho sentido. En esos días, las única actividades con un objetivo claro son aquellas que están relacionadas con la limpieza, la cocina y la maternidad. When I reach that point, I start becoming gray and dark.
Evidently having a cold doesn't help at all. I've dragged it around for weeks and I haven't left the house in fear of catching pneumonia again. It also doesn't help that I still haven't started up my yoga classes, my all girls craft group, or my photography walks...
So I have decided to extend my yoga mat in front of the fire and do a little yoga and self-massage mix. And since the sun has come out, when David comes back home from work and Naím wakes up from his nap, we'll go for a walk to the river with my camera.
Because after three days of dark grayness, I'm bored of myself.
(Original post published in De acá para allá on January 25, 2007)
"Mountain Sea"
Alaska on our way to Aniak
December 2007
Finally, we are back home. After three days of planes, airports, and little sleep, we have finally reached Aniak. Winter greeted us with an incredible 40 F, when last week it reached 40 below. And even though the snow is melting fast, I am happy that life is offering us a smooth transition instead of having to dive into the crude arctic winter right after the Egyptian sun. It seems that around this time of the year there is usually a rise in temperatures and we've arrived just on time to enjoy it.
The return has forced us to start living the most pure Alaskan lifestyle, that is, with no running water. While we were gone, and due logistical errors, we ran out of fuel before we expected, so given that outside it was 30 below, the house froze. Because of this, pipes burst and with them, also the water pump, which cracked from side to side. And without the pump, evidently, there is no water.
So here we are, melting snow to wash dishes and shower in the steam house. To wash clothes we will go to the community center, because washing them with melted snow is not something I'm thrilled to experience. I just hope the snow doesn't melt completely, or we will run out of regular water supply. However, it's great to be home, build fires, and enjoy my cat's purring again.
Well, I better try to get back to sleep. Jet lag is bad right now, so here I am, blogging at 2 AM after having slept five hours and be awakened by a crying little boy, who happens to have the same jet lag then his parents.
"Minarets"
Cairo, Egipto
Enero 2008
Cairo, the city of the thousand minarets, is at once chaotic and comfortable.With approximately 16 million people living together in a huge city, the only thing that doesn't exist here is silence. If it's not the calls to prayer that come out of the speakers of every mosque and ripple through the city like a never ending wave, then it's the incessant honking of the cars and their noisy engines.
Many years ago, I also spent a few days in Cairo. The only feeling I can remember of my visit was panic. Panic due exclusively to the chaotic traffic that runs through the city. This time, thanks to Hassan and my brother-in-law, my new heroes at the wheel, the impression I take a way with me is, Al Hamdu Lellah, much richer. I guess that for those of my friends that are form Mexico City, Cairo's traffic wouldn't be so shocking at all, since they are quite similar. Though there is a fundamental difference: in Mexico I have seen stop lights and drivers who respect them. In Cairo, I have mostly seen yellow stop lights that warn you about intersections. And then, each one figures it out on their own. Cars, people, donkeys, horses, sheep, motorcycles, bicycles, and the occasional freeway sweeper dance and improvised choreography sharing the same space and intertwining without any apparent order and with surprising success.
Though its hard to not feel on occasion like a walking coin, just for the fact of being European in an African country, I take with me a nice impression of the people. I especially liked the natural way in which men express affection among themselves and toward children. This is very unusual in our western societies, where the image of two men holding hands still bring out judgmental glances and where a man smiling or blowing kisses to a child in public would be taken as an unequivocal sign of child molestation. In the western world, women are the only ones allowed such public displays of affection. Then, of course, we have the other side of the coin, since displays of affection between man and women in public are quite discreet. I guess we can't have it all.
We did a few of the typical tourist routes that are inevitable in Cairo: the Pyramids, and the Sphinx, the Citadel, a few mosques, the Coptic neighborhood, Khan el Khalili street market... But the best moments were spent getting lost in small streets away from the masses of tourists that invade Cairo, especially in this time of the year. We walked through very narrow streets filled with skinny cats, garbage, and men drinking tea and smoking sisha. We explored parks like oasis, where young couples go to take their loves for a walk. We ate in small restaurants where you couldn't find a letter, nevertheless a word, that looked familiar (thank god for David's ability to read Arabic and more or less understand what was it that we were about to eat). Watching a woman's extraordinarily happy smile when I asked her to show me how to put on the typical head scarf in the traditional way.
I have not described in justice what I experienced. There are many more impressions, moments, curiosities... many bits of life not told. It's been a great adventure that has reached its end. Tomorrow we take off for Madrid, Sunday we continue in route to Seattle, and Monday we will be back in Alaska. It's been five weeks full of all kinds of emotions, reflexions, entertainment, lots of friends and family, and lots of sun and great weather.
I would not have changed this trip for anything. I have the impression that I have learned a lot and now it's turn to really internalize those teachings. That is, from my little frozen bit of the world, close to the North Pole, and within my daily routine, which I can't wait to get back to. See you there!
"A smile from the sky"
Andorra, Teruel
January 2008
With all these travels, I have lost my words. So many airplanes, cars, landscapes, people, foods, smells, and emotions, that my body and soul are numb.
So I drop by to leave a smile captured in the sky a few days ago. From the sky to me, and from me to all of you that drop by here.
Meiga in Alaska
