Exploring my creative edge

A writing teacher and artist, who I follow online, often asks herself and her students - what is your creative edge? For me, this blog is my creative edge.

View of the sunset in el Campo de la Rata, A Coruña, España

I'm trying to wrap my head around how to share this experience of living in Spain here on this blog. What's interesting to others? What's authentic for me? How do I pull out the meaningful bits from the normal, day-to-day life stuff? Is there a goal - documentation, creation, connection, developing my voice as a writer? All of the above?

In the spirit of documentation, this week I went paddle-surfing with Martin. We started in la Playa de Oza and went over to la Playa de Santa Cristina and then back again. I was quite nervous on the bus ride to the beach, but managed to hide it well from Martin (I think...). He had been with some friends a few weekends before and was excited to show me how fun it was. While surfing had always looked amazingly fun, I was sure that standing on a small floating board in the water would be difficult for me. But the water was calm, and I found balancing quite easy. Maybe all the dance training helped?

Also in the spirit of documentation, we managed to register to get our public health cards this week. There have been a number of bureaucratic tasks that we've had/chosen to do since arriving - el empadronamiento (this is like registering that we live here), the residency card application/registering with the police, getting library cards, getting a bus/transit card, getting our public health cards. Not sure if those things are interesting to others, but they are definitely a fact of life when moving/living abroad for any length of time.

Perhaps the most notable aspect for me during these endeavors is that I've had to give them my parents' first names a few times now. First, I'm not sure why they need this information. Second, my parents do not have Spanish names (Terry and Sharlyn), so I end up having to spell or write them down. Also, it really trips up the civil servants that we don't have two last names. In Spain, children have both a last name from their mother and their father, verses our U.S. tradition of just having one last name that is usually from our father. This often means that no one changes their name when they get married.

Self-portrait in Parque Santa Margarita, A Coruña, España

In regards to creation, I'm thinking of a couple of photo projects. I've noticed myself drawn to the street art/graffiti here, to the sky peeking out between buildings/rooftops, to stray cats, and to the ocean and ria views. I don't feel like the Blogger platform does a great job for sharing photos though, so these might do better as Instagram themes. I feel like there is some creative writing to be explored, but clear ideas or directions have yet to emerge.

And connection - let me know what questions you have or what you want to hear about. Give me some direction and inspiration as I walk about finding my equilibrium here.

Turning the pages

Ephemera (noun): 1) Things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time. 2) Items of collectible memorabilia, typically written or printed ones, that were originally expected to have only short-term usefulness or popularity.

The first few years we lived here in the Bay Area, I created a scrapbook. It was a big, brown parcel paper journal in which I pasted programs, tickets, letters, cards, and other ephemera. At first, I added little notes and commentary about the show or event. Eventually, I stopped working on it regularly.

This past December, I was thinking more and more about our potential move to Spain. I realized that I had all of these cards, notes, photos, paper memorabilia saved up in a box or two. And I knew that Martin had a bunch as I tended to be a bit extravagant with the love letters at the start of our relationship.

Knowing that we would plan to move to Spain as lightly as possible, I began to think of scanning these personal documents. A digital copy seemed to be a reasonable way to keep the sentimentality but not the physical weight. I figured we could do weekend trips to the library and scan them bit by bit. On Christmas morning, we walked out of our apartment building to discover that our neighbor had put his old scanner out on the street for someone who wanted it - me.

Today, I scanned the last of my ephemera - that big, bulging scrapbook that I put together when we first moved here. Eighty-nine pages of pixels of our past, adventurous selves.

There is a feeling of time and change that sneaks up on you sometimes. You suddenly wonder how you got here, now, in this moment. How all the moments in-between then and now have been condensed, erased, packaged, tidied up and tucked away. Dusting yourself off, there is a wonder at the youthfulness and presentness of the past. Then, with a sigh, you tuck it away and take out the recycling.

Day 48 - ephemera left minimal, library books perhaps too many, fireworks many more than Leeloo cares for

Marking the connections

Magnolia blossom in Oakland, CA - July 2016

When we moved to San Francisco 8 years ago, we were surprised to find a number of magnolia trees. For both of us, magnolia trees were inextricably linked to our idea of the south and Atlanta where we came from. But here they were, thousands of miles away, with their waxy evergreen leaves and white fragrant flowers.

This past week, I discovered that a number of my dance mentors and teachers were here in the Bay Area for a one-week intensive with Anna Halprin. Even though they were completely engaged and processing a deep learning experience, when I reached out to see if we could manage to see each other before they returned to Atlanta, their immediate response was to make that happen.

Today, I sat eating crepes with these old friends on a sunny sidewalk in San Rafael. I took over an hour via train and bus to get there. We caught up - about Spain, marriages and divorces. We shared deep, personal and profound moments of insight from our lives these past years. We shared dreams and visions of the future. We ate chocolate and drank coffee.

Tonight, I am so grateful for those relationships and ties that connect us over time and geography. There are people who touch your core. Some you keep close, call when there is news, share interesting links via emails. Some emerge when you need to remember how small this planet is and how lasting our connections are with each other.

Day 49 - bags packed zero, heart full, time on public transit totally worth it.