Women Who Travel Alone

Learning how to be alone and comfortable.
At night. On the weekends.
Eating solo when everyone else is with a friend or with family.

These things are not easy.

I look at old men alone, having a beer and I try to mirror their confidence.
But real confidence comes from seeing other women traveling alone,
eating alone, sitting at a café,
looking inward or outward.

I’m reminded that I chose this path for a reason.

A woman alone is often thinking and feeling (and crying?) 
She has time to know herself
to know what she wants
what is helping her,
what is hurting her.

She has time to love and to lose and to love and to lose.
She will learn what to pursue and what to avoid.

A woman traveling alone will breathe in the space.
She will walk with the people and drink their wine.
There will be friends and men and ideas.
There will be euphoria and love.
There will be persistent loneliness, an ache.

There will be striking beauty
which, 
only seems to amplify this loneliness.

There will be hangovers.
There will be all day spent in a bed that is not her own
but in which she must
take care of herself.

And the creeping questions
she will ask in dark places; 
what is she doing here?
Why did she come here?
And the doubt; 
this is crazy,
she is crazy,
she is a crazy woman. 

But there will be the day that follows. 

She will get up
and the sun is out
She greets the city as her home. 

 

Crying again in Las Palmas

In Las Palmas the airport looks over the sea. I feel full of Chinese food and oxytocin. Everyone at the airport looks great. Drinking matcha at the Starbucks and thinking about the faces of my friends. Of the digital nomads on the roof. Of entrepreneurs. Of spreadsheets. Of his face at night. And then I cry because I will miss this life. And then I cry because I feel lucky to know Las Palmas, to know freedom and business strategy and international friendship. Currently I have a friend named Lara, a friend named Laura, AND a friend named Lauren. They are all so cool. This is a cake life! It is so rich!

The plane takes off. I am in the middle seat in the middle aisle. The man next to me reads Harry Potter. I cry again and feel fine about it.

Casa Suecia

Dehydrated and depressed.

If these things are related by cause and effect
then water should fix this
in the way that water fixes everything.

Two days ago I was a model.
One day ago I was delirious.
Last night I was in heaven.
Today I feel fat.

At this moment
in a café I'm surrounded
by a gathering of nicely dressed abuelas.
I wonder
Have they felt these things? Are they happy now?

They do not look dehydrated.
nor do they look depressed.

Likely because they have family and routine and compromise.

The abulelas do not
make themselves suffer.

The abuelas remember
to drink water.

27 and sometimes concerned about capitalism

Otherwise thinking about love or food or myself.

I met an Italian girl in Las Palmas and we were both confused about Spanish men. We drank cappuccinos every day at La Olive and talked, frustrated about these bastardos who stopped texting us back.

The week passed.

Each day we grew increasingly frustrated and increasingly caffeinated until our hearts, they were going to explode!

Lovesick. 

We clung to each other's situation over foamy milk and espresso.
We generously offered the advice that we should have been taking ourselves. 

Believe me, we are smart and beautiful girls and this heartache will fade.
But the warmth of our friendship maintains, sparkling, like a cupcake or a birthday party.

Still unsure about Capitalism.