Category: Photos

Today I will see beauty- Part 2

In my blog post last week, I told you that I wanted to see beauty in the daily grind of life. I wanted to intentionally notice.

I managed to get a photo from each day and multiple photos from several days. My self-induced challenge made me look for beauty, even when I wasn’t snapping pictures. I liked that.

There were a lot of photos I would have liked to have had and one I accidentally deleted… but instead of telling you about those, I’ll show you these:

(Most of the photos below were taken on my phone, so I won’t vouch for their quality.)

silvery underside of tree
Thursday: My favorite tree. When I pass under it, I love to look up at the silverly undersides of the leaves.
sun shining through clouds over city
Friday: After an early morning rain
trees and roses lining boulevard
Saturday: The roses are still blooming
silhouettes of two women
Sunday: Friendship
family of three with sombrilla and market bag walking along tree-lined boulevard
Sunday (again): A family walking home from the market
elderly couple seated on bench along tree-lined boulevard
Monday: An elderly couple enjoying the tranquil boulevard
open cupboard
Tuesday: Organized cupboards!
water bottle in case made out of aluminum bottle tabs
Wednesday: The water bottle holder itself is not very beautiful, but two things make it beautiful to me: 1) it was a gift and 2) it’s made from recycled aluminum can pull tabs.

Writer’s block and little people

“The words don’t come anymore. It’s like they’re stuck,” I told my roommate. I used to love sitting down to answer emails. Now, despite the fact that I still love to get emails, it’s harder to sit down and respond to them. What used to be a joy now feels more like a discipline.

“It’s like the one thing I used to be good at no longer works!”

My journal entries have grown thin and factual. My blog entries are dry.

Sometimes I get tired of words, trying to recall or learn words in three languages. Tired of trying to make myself understood in any of those languages and their respective cultures.

Sometimes I want to turn off the words in my brain and just be—I want the “nothing” box that men claim is real.

So instead of writing something profound, I offer you some snapshots of my favorite little people: Carissa Joy, Clark David, and Albert Harris. My family kindly keeps me updated with pictures of my growing niece and nephews.

  • baby girl chewing on celery stalks
  • baby boy with wild hair, a snotty nose, and a spoon in his mouth
  • little boy dressed up with toothbrush

Featured photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Niece and nephews photo credits to my family

Tarjetas and tourists: what’s been happening recently

“What has been happening recently?” you ask. I’ll tell you, even if you didn’t ask. 

One of my favorite big events was getting my residency card, my tarjeta. FINALLY. All of the paperwork, the trip to the Chicago consulate, the phone calls that drove me close to insanity, the corrections, the visa, the move to Spain, the various trips to the extranjería (and the wonderful roommate who accompanied me on all of those!), and finally… finally… on the last trip, the man across the counter handed me my tarjeta. “Perfect.”

We celebrated with a trip to the mall, coffee and tostadas, and getting lost (as is our custom while on foot in Almería).

Last week, my roommate and I took a trip to Berja, a small town in the province of Almería. Away from our immigrant town, we noticed a more defined Spanish flavor, especially in the thicker Andalusian Spanish.

At a bus stop in the middle of nowhere, a man (one who would fit nicely into one of those “anti-smoking” commercials) climbed on board our bus. He sat in front of us but hollered over our heads to the man sitting directly behind us. After several minutes of thick and raspy Andalusian exchange, he turned to face forward and lean back in his seat. The seat was broken and little by little, it voluntarily reclined so far that soon there were three of us in our seat. I giggled. I couldn’t help it! The day was going to be an adventure…

In la villa vieja, we freely roamed the Roman and Arab ruins and enjoyed the silence of the forsaken countryside.

  • valley of greenhouses
  • ruins against cloudy blue sky
  • hillside with ruins and blossoming tree
  • branches of blossoms

We walked part of “the route of fountains” to find the oodles of little fountains throughout the town. But more fun than finding the fountains was seeing pretty pieces of the town I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.

  • red flowers on iron balconies
  • eagle shaped fountain

We topped off the afternoon with a sumptuous “choto al ajillo” (goat in garlic sauce) which we bravely tried… and liked!

Of course, lots of other things have been happening too that I haven’t described in detail here (at least not yet), such as:

  • setting up a library corner at the store
  • watching a bus driver threaten to call the police to remove a disruptive and cussing passenger
  • walking with a friend in time to a spiritual discussion
  • seeing God working miracles through brothers and sisters in Christ who are willing to be a channel of God’s power and love
  • multiple trips to the bank to set up an account… to no avail until the fifth time I tried and the bank teller threw up his hands and hollered, “IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT!”

And more. Much more. But that’s enough for now, because I’m off to have another adventure. After all, there is an adventure in every day if we remember to look for it.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… in Almería

My roommate, a friend, and I spent a chilly afternoon on the beach before checking out what Christmas looks like in Almería. We sampled roasted chestnuts, feasted on chicken and potatoes, tried to find an elusive tea shop, browsed through a Christmas market, and walked and walked and walked until I was sure we had worn holes in the soles of our shoes.

giant bethlehem manger scene
An entire room of a Bethlehem scene
chestnuts roasting in a pan over a fire
“Chestnuuuuuts rooooasting on an open fiiiiiire.”
brightly lit row of market stalls
A Christmas market