Spanish Holiday Part Catorce: The last of the Boys of summer for now

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It is Labor Day here in the States.  Summer is officially over and so is my story of my thrice years past trip to Spain (final installment below).  To update you: “Ricardo” and I are still friends never lovers, Kirana and I are in cahoots off and on about organizing a spiritual cultural  trip for women to Catalunya to fill their spirits (hot younger men not included) my divorce is final as of August 2009 and I am trying to figure out how to get to India to travel with my guru, Valma to celebrate my 50th this coming February for another transformational spiritual journey to kick off the second half of my life.  As I write this preamble, I am tearful with gratitude for my Spanish adventure, the wonderful people I met and the gift of confidence and self -worth it afforded me. I encourage all the single ladies to screw up their courage and do something that scares them in order to accomplish the same.

For inspiration, I offer this quote from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe:

“Each indecision brings its own delays and days are lost lamenting over lost days…What you can do or think you can do, begin it. For boldness has Magic, Power and Genius in it.”

Thank you for reading and enjoy the last little bit o Spanish Holiday…

Kirana takes me to the Hotel Palou, a tobacco baron’s mansion turned into cool bed and breakfast featuring 10 unique rooms with furniture made by a local artist.  It is a lovely place one block behind the yoga studio.  There is a pool in the back and a quaint dining room for breakfasts.  My room has twin beds,  a cool slate bath area and a window that opens up to the street.

There is a concert tonight at Kirana’s Studio, Sathya, (www.sathyamusic.com) is the man’s name.  He has two other musicians with him a sitar player called Shambo and a gorgeous Brazilian woman named Liliana who also sings.  The concert is held in the studio’s beautiful courtyard where Krishna Das once performed.  All of the concerts are instigated by people who want to play there, Kirana never promotes the space to musicians rather they find the space and approach her.  It is quite karmic that way.  The space is truly magical.  It is naturally festooned with purple and pink flowers and native Spanish plants draping over the walls.  There is a fish pond in the left hand corner spiked with water lilies.  The stage is a large concrete rectangular block that extends long ways along the right hand side of the courtyard. I is draped with Indian tapestries to soften the look of it. There are Buddha statues placed in natural “shelves” in the earthen and rock walls.  Mats cover the pebbled ground with mediation cushions strewn about to provide comfortable seating for the 26 patrons that eventually filter in to watch and listen.

The band begins by lighting candles and greeting the crowd with “Namaste” and a three minute silent meditation. The atmosphere transforms from peaceful garden to a place of musical mysticism as the group breaks the silence with a chant honoring the Hindu god, Ganesh. The repetition of the mantra increases or “reveals” its power. The audience participates in a call and response chant, starting out rather meekly and quietly and building in enthusiasm as the pace increased reaching a fever pitch with clapping and some swaying or head bobbing movements.  The soul cleansing aspect of the experience becomes apparent as the night continues and I begin to feel lighter and my spirit flowing more freely in the communal space of the Universe.

Later, Sathya explains that what they do for a crowd is far from a performance, it is a musical meditation, part of his yogic path.  “It is about being yourself in the moment, being in that space to provide a way to let the divine flow through you.”

It is a beautiful night and after hugs and goodbyes, I head up the hill to the hotel Palou to sleep knowing that tomorrow is my last full day in Spain for this trip.

The details of this last day are fuzzy in my mind.  I apparently recorded my adventures in a separate journal and have in three years since having lived through a divorce, a torturous year with my daughter in the wrong school,  re-entry into dating world, selling my house and moving twice since, I have forgotten the details – go figure.  Anyway, I do know that I went into Barcelona proper and met up with a professor of business at some University, an older gentleman I met by contacting the Quaker Friends Meeting of Barcelona who showed me all over town while stopping frequently to eat tapas and sip coffee or Cava (whichever was most needed at the moment).  I remember going through some huge gardens and stopping in a cool little boutique and buying a fabulous blue cotton dress that I still own and wear to this day.  I also must have ended up at Gaudi’s Casa Batllo because I remember touring it and taking oodles of pictures.  I have a vaugue recollection of Kirana picking me up and riding the train back to Sitges but I fail to recall how I spent my last night on that trip.  Certainly it was a quiet affair, I think I cooked dinner for Kirana and her guests at her house and walked back to the hotel.  The next morning though, breakfast was disturbed by a parade outside and everyone staying at the Palou went out on the front slate veranda to watch.  It is the Bal De Diablos in relationship to some Saints Day or something.  There are lots of teenagers dressed as devils shooting off fire crackers, drummers and big statue/puppet like things being carried through the streets.  The kids all look hungover and tired but they are out there parading anyway.  I watch for a while then go inside to pack.  I notice that I arrive in San Pere on a festival day an I am leaving on one as well.  Kirana, wonderful hostess that she is, is driving me to the airport to catch my flight to Paris then on to the States.

The remainder of the morning is a blur.  Kirana comes to get me and we say a tearful curbside farewell.  I go through the regular security checks et al and end up on a plane.

From here I have my notes:  I am fighting back tears as the plane rom Barcelona ascends.  My heart is breaking, already mourning the end of my trip.  Like taking the last sip form a bottle of good champagne- the sparkle is finished, the good times ended for now and soon reality will smack me in the face made more harsh by the memory of so much heady fun.  I really do feel as though a piece of me is torn off and left in Spain.  It is painful at present but I know it simply means I will return.  The whirlpool of love, friendship, kindness, generousity, spirituality, joy, sensitivity and celebration of wisdom- a metaphor for the important things in life. The seeds of possibility planted, I wait curiously to see how they will come to fruition.

If  I have one regret from this adventure it is that I did not have sex with Ricardo.  Who knows when I will have such an opportunity again.  But the Universe is functioning perfectly and I am satisfied that I made the right decision.


I will be happy to see my family though I did not miss them. I look forward to being reunited with them in my new state of being- my heart is opening and it feels divine.  Still I feel I shall cry for days and days.  Rivers of tears that this part of my journey is finished.  I will not cry on the plane as filling my nasal passages with snot at this point would be excruciating and… besides, you just never know who you might meet on the plane.

FIN

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