The first was simply being in Port Lligat. The quiet, the stillness, took my breath away. I've been on the run, not just this summer, but for I don't know how long.
I live in the city where it's difficult at best to see stars. Sunrise is something that peeks past buildings, houses, and trees. Last night I watched the sky go through a gradation of pastel tints slowly shading into a blue that was almost black. My room here faces northeast. I bolted awake this morning to a dawn that lit up my room. I could almost swear that the sun made a noise as it came up over the horizon. The light was that intense.
I can forget about finding silence in the city. There is always something, freeway drone, sirens, the dump truck that picks up the neighboring wine bar and restaurant's mainly glass garbage by upending the dumpster at 4:00 AM. in my classroom it's the sound of voices, scrapping of chairs, bells, and morning announcements.
Last night I slept with the doors open onto my balcony listening to the sound of occasional gull cries somewhere around the point. I got up this morning and walked, listening to bird calls, dove, gull, sparrow. I passed a tree in blossom and paused to listen to the humming of bees, so loud it sounded as though the tree would take off.
It's been a long time since I took time to do something other than work. My life is controlled by bells and alarms, all things man made.
I said there were two things and I certainly didn't lie. The second was the exact opposite of the first. Last night, as I was sitting in the hotel lobby polishing off my previous post, I dropped the key to my room safe. Being the good little traveler that I am I had deposited my purse, all expensive electronic gear and chargers, my passport, money, tickets, etc. in the hotel safe. That's all well and good until I couldn't find the key. All my big city paranoia struck. In the Hotel Port Lligat when evening comes the owner and employees do what all sane people should. They lock up and go home. This means the lobby and the terrace, the only two places I had been, were locked up tight. I found myself having difficulty sleeping. I developed a seriously bad case of the what-if's. What if I hadn't dropped it? What if I dropped it somewhere else? What if I left it in the safe and someone crept across the balconies and took it? What if the safe was in fact already emptied and I didn't even know it. What if I got some sleep because there was nothing to do about it until morning?
I woke up early. No one else was up and about. I took my walk, marveling at a world that had nothing to do with euros and dollars, passports, credit cards or pricey electronic gizmos.
When I got back from my walk the lobby was open and, sure enough, there was my key, right where it fell out of my pocket onto the seat of the chair.
Lessons learned?
Take time to be in the real world.
Take time to get away from the rat race.
Be in the moment.
Be where I am when I'm there.
Oh yeah, and don't put the safe key loose in my pocket.
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