The First Step

Ahh, finally some peace. PEACE. PEACE. PEACE. The one thing someone needs in times of trouble is PEACE. Just to hear the wind blow through the leaves is enough to put one's heart at rest.
I'm staying with my teenhood friend Liz in St Augustine. She lives in this quaint little hobbit house in the woods behind a castle across the street from the beach. And yes, I said CASTLE. She lives behind a castle. It's the only castle I've ever seen in Florida so if you're from the area you know exactly where to find me.
It's a green house. Warmed by fire, compost toilet, the hole deal and I love it. Half of the square footage is the wrap around screened in porch. The entire yard consists of passageways cleared through the trees, no grass, just passageways.
Already I feel better as I sit here in front of the fire I just made with cedar and look out the open door to the forest.
Maybe I'm not a city girl at all. Actually, I think I'm totally not. I find happiness comes so easy when I'm someplace peaceful and slow. Someplace TIMELESS. But when I'm in the city - I have to try so hard just to hold onto my sanity. I enjoy the culture, the busyness, the people, but to maintain a grasp on myself takes so much effort. When I was living in LA my perfect daily ritual for happiness was to surf, THEN do yoga, THEN go to work, and THEN - what time do you have left for music with a schedule like that? But I HAD to work. I HAD to pay the bills. I HAD to surf and I HAD to do yoga to keep myself happy in a world that was constantly trying to climb up some sort of social latter to some sort of heaven made of stars and botox. God, all that climbing. It was one of those things where you see everyone running for the hills and you eventually think to yourself, "Damn, should I run too?" I made it out alive but not with out some wounds. It's amazing what a year can do to you.
Yeah, so I'm officially NOT a city girl UNLESS it is (A) for a period of less than a month in the United States or (B) in a foreign country for lets say - maybe a year? Which brings me to my next topic of conversation.
I've finally made my first step toward... toward what? What am I walking towards? If only I knew. All I know is I just bought a ticket to Guatemala for a month. I found a spanish school there that is cheap and located on a black sand beach that is known as "Guatemala's most beautiful beach." Not to mention some of Guatemala's best surfing. I've been wanting to learn spanish ever since I moved to California and realized that it's the first language there. You may THINK California is run by actors like Arnold Swarzwhatever but you are so wrong. California is run by Mexicans. In fact, if they were to team up and go on strike for say, CITIZENSHIP, the whole place would shut down.
When I was slingin fish at Ocean Ave Seafood the whole kitchen was Mexican. At first I was a shy gringo unsure of how to communicate with them, and believing full heartedly that they had no interest in communicating with me. But soon we were the best of friends and they took me on as one of them. They even called me "Paesana" which meanst in less than so many words "fellow mexican." This was my first immersion into the spanish language and they took me on as an apt pupil. In fact, to make the restaurant job a little easier on my soul, instead of saying I was going to work I would say, "I'm going to my spanish lesson."
They taught me very useful phrases such as "Tu eres mi swano mexicana," (you are my mexican dream) and "Essez es mi estylo," which means "That's my style bitches." As useful as these phrases were, I was ready to hit the big leagues.
I found a program that is so insanely cheap. It's cheaper for me to stay there, attend twenty hours of spanish instruction, and eat three times per day than it is for me to pay rent just about anywhere. That's my kind of place.
So I'm going to chill out by the ocean for a month, possibly longer. Who knows, maybe I'll keep traveling south. Until it turns cold and then head north again.
Hasta la vista! (does that make sense?)