Monday, March 2, 1992
Carnaval, Carnaval, Carnaval! We ended up not going to Cádiz until Saturday afternoon. I think it was for the best. Two days would've been too much! On Friday, we did nothing all day. Andre complained all day about what a waste it was. We couldn't rent a car. That night, Tim, Andre and I went to Málaga to see "Delicatessen" -- a French farce dubbed into Spanish. It was good. Then we walked around Carnaval downtown. It was okay, but not many people were dressed up. Tim wanted to stay at Salsa all night, but I wanted to walk around more and we did. Saturday, it looked like it would be a repeat of Friday. We finally got a car at noon, but then had to find Ronnie and Jorg. We got stuck in traffic near Torremolinos. It looked like it would rain. But we finally made it to Cádiz. It was fantastic. Thousands of people in the streets -- most in costume. We each bought a hat and/or mask, too. There was so much going on. It went on for blocks and blocks. People dancing and singing in the streets. We were drinking vodka lemon. Biggest mistake I've made in a long time. We started drinking at 10:00. I was sick by 12:30. It was a fun 2 1/2 hours! But then I had to walk around the corner and find a nice place to vomit! Fortunately, (for me, not him) Andre joined me soon after. Tim brought him over, sat him next to me, and asked me to keep an eye on him. Yeah, right. The blind leading the blind. The sick caring for the sick. But I must admit that I enjoyed it. After a while anyway, when I was feeling better. I liked -- I really loved -- being able to take care of him. He was completely dependent on me. I left him for a while to try to find Tim to get the keys to the car. When I came back, he was sitting on the ground with this guy's hand in his pocket trying to steal his money. Tim eventually showed up and we got the keys. Then I had to guide Andre back to the car -- about 5 km. I had wanted to find a taxi, but couldn't. When we finally did, Andre thought he'd be sick in it, so we had to walk the whole way. I had to put my arms around him to guide him through the streets. This is what I enjoyed! I had the chance to hold him. We had to stop once in a while for him to get sick. By the time we were almost to the car, he was able to walk on his own, but I was still hoping we could sleep in each other's arms in the car. I suppose I could've taken advantage of him had I wanted. But I couldn't do that. He's too good a friend. I did feel pretty frustrated, though. So close. So that's how Andre and I found ourselves asleep by 4:00 when everyone else continued until dawn. Ronnie was borracho also. People were dancing around him while he was sleeping standing up. He looked ridiculous, with his colorful blanket around him and a green wig on. Later, he found a truck with a mattress in it and slept there. Then the owners came and gave him a black eye. ¡Que divertido! I really am sorry I didn't get to enjoy it more. But it was a great experience! On the way home, we stopped at a beautiful beach and slept. That Costa de la Luz is so beautiful. Rolling green hills. Mountains. Smooth, sandy beaches. So undeveloped, unlike the Costa del Sol. Last night I forced myself to go to Bolivia with the gang. I played pool for the first time and met some interesting people. Rick, from Atlanta, is taking classes at the University of Málaga. He quit his job and "just did it" like me. Cool. Dirk, from Germany, I think is gay. We talked quite a bit. He had been an exchange student in Indiana. I think I'll get to know him pretty well. Good. I need to meet more people outside our circle. And someone gay, so we can go to the bars or whatever. The situation with Andre is frustrating me so much. Why do I always fall in love with men I can't have?
I've been writing a letter to Bob. Getting very philosophical. Wondering where each of us fits in to the other's life. Wondering why I'm in Spain and he's in Kentucky. Wondering what he's wondering. I was reflecting on destiny. Meeting Dave on the plane, talking with Tim after class and deciding to move, Andre moving in, going out to Bar Salsa when I didn't want to and talking with María José, meeting Abdel at Bolivia. All pieces of a puzzle. But the puzzle is never complete, is it? "There is no finish line." Lately, I've been blown away by the fact that I'm here in Spain. Why? I really don't know. It's just what's right. I really am being guided. I don't know why. But I have to have faith. In what? In whom? In myself??