lets get gregarious
Salamanca friends, is a beautiful city, perhaps the most awe inspiring urban landscape we have yet encountered. I can’t fully put into to words why I find it so pleasing to the eye, to the mind, and to the heart. The atmosphere, the location, and the people are so wholly new, fresh and exciting that the experience in its entirety leaves me breathless, speechless and yes yes, that’s right, hopelessly romantic. * Earlier this evening as the sun was preparing us all for its retreat over the horizon with the long shadows and the telltale shades of another day gone by I toured the city, really a glorified college campus, on foot, and parts of me fell in love with its endless cobblestone streets, statues of old dudes long forgot, plazas galore, countless academic buildings tucked away between city blocks, and cathedrals in mass. But what really struck me, and don't miss this, were the swallows; thousands upon thousands of them, swooping from rooftop to rooftop above my head in the twilight, earning their daily bread like they have done for centuries now. Making they're homes in the shingles and gutters and nooks and crannies of the cities` finest architects` work. It’s quite amazing really, where some choose to settle down. My expertise as a budding biologist tells me that for these swallows, its simple really, a matter of resources, of home ranges, of breeding cycles, of genetics, of environmental factors, of the stochasticity of natures delicate balance.
But tonight, because you must remember, I can’t help but be romantic, I think the dance these swallows do with nooks and crannies and life and death is quite remarkable. It’s a dance I have to admit I haven’t quite figured out yet, maybe not so much the bit about life and death, but more so the nooks and crannies part. And those of you who know me best are quite tired of this dialogue, of hearing me talk about this dance we do with home, of watching my tireless search for a place and a people and a purpose to settle into. And I feel as if the story of Jacob resonates so completely in my heart not only because he is a grandfather in the family line of my creator, but because his story foreshadows the story of every man. A story that changed his name and broke his hip. We must wrestle, and on some days I feel as if this adventure Nick and I are on across a foreign continent is more about fighting with life and with the meaning of love and with our God than it is about exploring. But it wouldn't be an adventure without a few broken hips, huh.
Nick and I didn't originally write this leg of the trip into the script, but the blueprint for this little adventure of ours was never really more than a joke of a first draft anyway. What convinced us of the change in trains was a group of people in this city who facilitate a place where students from Salamanca University and God can connect, a place of worship, a place of fellowship, and a place where it seems to me that walls get broken down. They call themselves En Vivo, and they're connected to the states and ourselves by way of a mission’s organization, CMF. Nick and I, both at one point or another being interested in ministry on college campuses on an international scale had some questions and they were more than happy to provide not only answers, but also beds, a ping pong table, and a little company. Our first night here we had the pleasure of attending a benefit concert in one of the many local hangouts. Have you ever had the feeling that all in one instant you wanted to attack a windmill with the likes of Don Quijote, make hemp anklets around a fire with Buddhist monks in a small Thai village, and save the children. Probably not, but I have, the music was that gall darn good. Nicely done En Vivo, nicely done. But seriously, these people are great and our time here has been more than excellent.
If you’ve been paying attention, in the last page of text I've sneakily deleted the memory of June 11-18th from your psyches. To be honest it really wasn't all that glamorous and we don't have much to say about it. What it boiled down to was Nick and I helping a group of entirely too burnt 40 year olds renovate an old chicken coop into a coffee shop-esk meeting place. The work really wasn't difficult at all and we spent most of every day on the Atlantic Coast of Spain on a beach between a lighthouse and a coral reef, but Nick was sick (something about drinking Morroccan water) and we weren’t able to connect with the people we were living with very well (something about loosing themselves in a haze of illicit narcotics). Bottom line- don’t do drugs, especially if you’re old and have a faith system revolving around the existence of evil being a creation of our minds. Pluses of the week included being able to get some good reading in, including the auto-biography Shantaram, which we would both highly suggest, and So Shall We Reap, an expose of current food systems of the world. Which is quite good if you’re interested in that sort of thing. We were also able to watch a few good American movies, which reminded us of home and made us miss friends and family all the more. Needless to say, finding Salamanca so beautiful and inviting was a blessing and we feel as if it has refocused us for the rest of the trip.
Next stop…Rome. Get ready.
* its true that those close to me, in similar situations, have described myself as a romantic comedy. it also happens to be true that in this condition I may or may not be a combination of humorous, sad, and like the main characters of many romantic comedies, really really good looking. but as some others have been quick to point out, entirely too quick i might add, i’ll just make you cry at the end, so those naysayers would suggest that you probably shouldn’t bother. you can make up your minds for yourself.
But tonight, because you must remember, I can’t help but be romantic, I think the dance these swallows do with nooks and crannies and life and death is quite remarkable. It’s a dance I have to admit I haven’t quite figured out yet, maybe not so much the bit about life and death, but more so the nooks and crannies part. And those of you who know me best are quite tired of this dialogue, of hearing me talk about this dance we do with home, of watching my tireless search for a place and a people and a purpose to settle into. And I feel as if the story of Jacob resonates so completely in my heart not only because he is a grandfather in the family line of my creator, but because his story foreshadows the story of every man. A story that changed his name and broke his hip. We must wrestle, and on some days I feel as if this adventure Nick and I are on across a foreign continent is more about fighting with life and with the meaning of love and with our God than it is about exploring. But it wouldn't be an adventure without a few broken hips, huh.
Nick and I didn't originally write this leg of the trip into the script, but the blueprint for this little adventure of ours was never really more than a joke of a first draft anyway. What convinced us of the change in trains was a group of people in this city who facilitate a place where students from Salamanca University and God can connect, a place of worship, a place of fellowship, and a place where it seems to me that walls get broken down. They call themselves En Vivo, and they're connected to the states and ourselves by way of a mission’s organization, CMF. Nick and I, both at one point or another being interested in ministry on college campuses on an international scale had some questions and they were more than happy to provide not only answers, but also beds, a ping pong table, and a little company. Our first night here we had the pleasure of attending a benefit concert in one of the many local hangouts. Have you ever had the feeling that all in one instant you wanted to attack a windmill with the likes of Don Quijote, make hemp anklets around a fire with Buddhist monks in a small Thai village, and save the children. Probably not, but I have, the music was that gall darn good. Nicely done En Vivo, nicely done. But seriously, these people are great and our time here has been more than excellent.
If you’ve been paying attention, in the last page of text I've sneakily deleted the memory of June 11-18th from your psyches. To be honest it really wasn't all that glamorous and we don't have much to say about it. What it boiled down to was Nick and I helping a group of entirely too burnt 40 year olds renovate an old chicken coop into a coffee shop-esk meeting place. The work really wasn't difficult at all and we spent most of every day on the Atlantic Coast of Spain on a beach between a lighthouse and a coral reef, but Nick was sick (something about drinking Morroccan water) and we weren’t able to connect with the people we were living with very well (something about loosing themselves in a haze of illicit narcotics). Bottom line- don’t do drugs, especially if you’re old and have a faith system revolving around the existence of evil being a creation of our minds. Pluses of the week included being able to get some good reading in, including the auto-biography Shantaram, which we would both highly suggest, and So Shall We Reap, an expose of current food systems of the world. Which is quite good if you’re interested in that sort of thing. We were also able to watch a few good American movies, which reminded us of home and made us miss friends and family all the more. Needless to say, finding Salamanca so beautiful and inviting was a blessing and we feel as if it has refocused us for the rest of the trip.
Next stop…Rome. Get ready.
* its true that those close to me, in similar situations, have described myself as a romantic comedy. it also happens to be true that in this condition I may or may not be a combination of humorous, sad, and like the main characters of many romantic comedies, really really good looking. but as some others have been quick to point out, entirely too quick i might add, i’ll just make you cry at the end, so those naysayers would suggest that you probably shouldn’t bother. you can make up your minds for yourself.
posted by zachary at
3:35 AM
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