On the Bridge (Or, Finally time to tell the tale)

(http://www.eureka-reservation.com/)

As I stand on this bridge, overlooking a vast river with hundreds of years of historical influence, I ask myself how many people have jumped off. It wouldn’t exactly be suicide since the water below does not flow with the turbulence of a bay, nor is it as frigid as that of the American Great Lakes. It would probably be fun, if one didn’t break a bone upon landing, to fall into these waters and be submerged into the bevy of stories it holds, tales of seafaring captains and crew with great dreams of sailing the ocean of a round planet to discover first the Indies and then, more knowingly, the New World.

Fast forward five hundred years and the ghosts of mariners, merchants, and fisherman surely haunt the winds that blow delicate ripples throughout the murky surface of water whose colors range from deep navy to moss green and even to violet gray, depending on the light in the sky. Along both this river’s shores and spanning this bridge, invisible spirits undoubtedly whisper tales of love lost or wishes fulfilled, to deaf ears.

But I hear them.

On a crisp Sunday in May, late in the morning, I stand on the Triana Bridge looking south over the Guadalquivir River in Seville, Spain, and I listen. This is the land where religious tolerance once ruled supreme before dying a shameful death, and where Gypsies are a paradox to be looked down upon and romanticized at the same time. It is also a land where progress, both socially and morally, is always on the move. So I keep my heart and ears open. I hear voices in different languages, laughter of all ages, boat engines humming below, cars rushing by behind me, horse hooves clopping on pavement as they pull carriages of tourists behind them, my own thoughts colliding with each other, and the undecipherable cries of Spanish spirits begging me to stay.

It is said Christopher Columbus set sail from the mouth of this river, and as I visualize that mouth, I wonder what stories of adventure it will some day tell of me.

I must find out.


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This is the opening to a memoir-type story I'm considering writing. I welcome your feedback, even the critical (but kindly-worded) kind.

On Belated Thanks (Or, When will Hallmark start making cards for this?)

Thanks are overdue. So overdue, in fact, that I've already posted in my sidebar the pics of my two most recent awards without giving due credit...and that's a bit shameless, I realize.

First off, thanks to Courtney at Southern Princess for the Stylish Blogger Award. It's a particular honor to receive it from her since her blog is one of the most stylish on my blogroll. Southern Princess has a unique theme that really helps me separate Courtney from the herd, and that is more than helpful as the number of blogs I follow quickly multiplies exponentially.

I pass this award onto these very stylish bloggers:

Karen Hooper at Eternal Moonshine of a Daydreaming Mind (I love her header.)

Julie at A Day in the Wife (She adds music, whether we like it or not.)
Anissa at Anissa Off the Record (Her color scheme is unique.)
Samantha Bennett at Show and Tell (Again, I like her header.)
Kathi at Kathi's Writing Nook (Her header has the most beautiful butterfly ever.)

Second, I give a big blogger hug to both Nicole at One Significant Moment at a Time and MissV at Rambles and Randomness for the Beautiful Blogger Award.

This award asks me to share seven things about myself, so here it goes:

1. I miss Seville, Spain more than words can express - even from a writer. Last week was the April Fair in that glorious city, and I was wishing more than anything I could be there wearing my Flamenco dress, drinking fino (no, that's not "vino"), and dancing my heart out. These two pictures show me in full Flamenco garb at the April Fair of 1991.

2. A couple days ago, as I was reading A Day in the Wife's post about how her husband was mocking her dedication to blogging, my own husband walked up to me and said, "Can you stop blogging for one second to talk to me, or will you stop breathing?"

3. My daughter is going to sleep-away camp this summer for the first time (Thanks, Grandma!), and every time I think about it, I get a knot in my throat to imagine her away from me for so long.

4. I love blogging! I only started in February of this year, and I feel I've found my calling...until I find the inspiration to write my next novel.

5. I wish I could organize a Blogger get-together - perhaps in NYC - where all my followers and all those I follow could unite so I could meet you ALL in person.

6. I love coffee but have to drink decaf because of a sensitivity to caffeine. (And no, it doesn't make me hyper. I can do that all on my own!)
7. I'm using lucky number 7 to brag about my incredible kids. My son is gifted on the drums and electric guitar. He models himself after Joe Satriani, and I'm convinced that some day, Satriani will model himself after my son. My daughter is so inventive that she can convert her nightstand into a car. No kidding - she just convinced my husband to pick up some training wheels from the bike store so her car can cruise. (Don't ask how I came to allow her to do this.) Some day, I tell you, she's gonna change the world.

So there you have it. I now pass this Beautiful Blogger Award onto five bloggers who I've recently started following, mostly because I'd like to learn 7 new things about them:
Jayne at A Novice Novelist
Annika at A Swede Abroad
Jackee at Winded Words
Portia Sisco
B. Miller Fiction

And if anyone else is serious about a Blogger get-together, my brother has a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. I'm sure it could hold 100 of our closest blogging buddies ;-)

P.S. I just responded to someone's blog, and the word verication was "fuclayfe". I swear.

On Thinking out of the Box (Or, A Balmy Winter in Sweden)

Almost a lifetime ago (make that 19 years ago), I ventured out on what would be my first of two overseas living experiences. I started in Seville, Spain and immediately fell in love…with life. (Well, sure, men were involved, but in the scheme of things it was Life that won my heart.) Then I found myself in Bologna, Italy, where my desire to live abroad was cemented in my soul. Except that life has a funny way of putting you exactly where you need to be, and apparently I need to stay in the U.S., where the educational system better suits one of my children’s special needs.

That being said, my husband and I still fantasized regularly about our next foreign sojourn, but the conversation always ended with, “When the kids go to college.” Well, I did not have that kind of patience. So I decided to live in the now and make my next home in Sweden, where I have two dear friends and a few more acquaintances (carry-overs from my years in Europe).

But I had to think out of the box to make this happen.

Rather ingeniously (if I don’t say so myself), I came up with a solution. The kids would be thrilled with their new bedrooms (though the space would be much smaller, as European scale often is). They would get a fair sampling of authentic Swedish cuisine (whether they liked it or not). And I would finally have the sleek kitchen and Scandinavian-designed home I’d always wanted. My kids could continue in their same schools. And they could still visit their local grandparents. All this without traveling more than 10 miles from my South Florida home. How did I make this happen, you ask?

It’s a little Swedish village called Ikea.

Here’s a picture of my living room, where we entertain our Swedish friends and all our other overseas friends via live Skype chats. (My narrow-minded American friends won’t come over because they think it’s weird that I live in Ikea.)

Here’s my eat-in kitchen, where I fight each night with the kids over why they should eat their pickled herring, meatballs with lingonberry jam, rose hip soup, and of course their turnips, but then end up ordering Domino’s Pizza…because we can. (Though Ikea frowns upon outside catering, since they provide their own Swedish market right on the premises.)

Here I am making my daughter’s bed. Apparently, her laziness carries overseas.

And this is my son's idea of how to make his bed…

My favorite part is the home office. In this immaculately organized space, I can write my blog entries and my next great novel, An American Almost in Sweden.

And my reading room, where I spend time reading the BEST NOVEL EVER WRITTEN!

All this for free! Of course, I have no sex life because of all the security cameras (and we think the U.S. Department of Homeland Security is invasive), and privacy does not exist in Sweden, as evidenced below.

But all in all, I tell you this is the life here in South Florida, Sweden. And I don’t even have to take vitamin D supplements to survive the winter. Now, let’s see how long it takes Ikea’s security to kick us outta here and turn us into homeless Swedes...I mean Floridians.

Until then, vi ses nästa vecka, och undvika matjessill om du kan! (See you next week, and avoid the pickled herring if you can!)