5:50 pm
So now I feel I'm just waiting. For Godot? For the other shoe to drop? For someone to come rescue me? I've started packing. Oh, how I hate it! Nine months worth of my life into 2 bags. Impossible! And I hate saying good-bye. Said good-bye to Herbert and Antonio at TVP. I'll see María José tomorrow. Gitta tonight. Still haven't contacted Joel. Or Jeannet. I'm sitting on my terrace waiting... for the sunset. It should be beautiful tonight. Latest thoughts put me in Central America in 1993. We'll see. Still haven't sold my bike. Haven't asked anyone. Why do I procrastinate so? I'll be on a plane in 3 days. The world is so beautiful. I'm watching the birds fly by. The cloud formations. The mountains. Playing with Pantera, the black kitty.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Coming home after a month-long journey through Europe in 1991, I decided to quit my job at an upscale Michigan school district and move to Spain. I arrived in Malaga in January 1992 - never having set eyes on it before. I had a lot of hopes, a great deal of fortitude, and a little bit of money. This is my journal of that year in Spain.
Mikeywaz
- Mikeywaz
- In 1992, in part due to the First Bush Iraq War, I decided to leave a comfortable job in Michigan and move to Malaga, Spain. Since we visited Belize in 2008, Frank and I have been itching to hit the road. This year, we're pulling the trigger! Portimao, Portugal, here we come!