The gothic cathedral, seen from the Alameda Park23rd February 2009
To my lucious specimen of womanhood;
I am pleased to relate to you the commodity of the apartment in which we are installed. We have running water, acres of storage for the piteous 15 kilos each we were allocated for the flight over, which does absolutely nothing to fill the space, and a balcony overlooking a typically spanish scene. The window in my divinely pink room (further girlified by my stuffed rabbit and some beautiful rosy sheets purchased from the local supermercado) looks out over the cathedral, the most wonderfully gothic creation, encrusted with moss, which creates a beautiful silouhette against the sunset, often cooincided with my awakening.
I am rather ashamed about the amount of social gatherings I have attended since our arrival here; last night was the first which was spent in our delightful abode, and was filled with scrabble and happy families. My body has so adjusted itself to the new debaucherous regime that it struggles in sleeping before the witching hour, and awakening before noon. We have made some lovely friends, italians mainly, and the boys have gone to a nearby city tonight for a carnival with some irish acquaintances. I took the opportunity to save money and my poor little brain, which unlike my body is as yet unaccustomed to the new regime. I intend to spend the day indulging my feminine side, and typical to our miserable fate of being a woman, epilating, moisturising and rejuvenating my sunblushed skin, as well as having the necessary headspace to write to my kindred spirit across the seas.
I cannot say a bad word about my darling housemates, I adore every bone in their little bodies, but there are times when one misses female company. It is difficult to describe the jumble of emotions that is my romantic mind at the moment in english, so to do so in spanish would certainly lose the complicated train of thought, and though I'm sure they would be sympathetic, I am loathe to reveal my badly afflicted heart to the boys who may understand the thread of the conversation. I received an email on the day of my arrival informing me that the bane of my life would be out of the country until yesterday. In the same email, he informed me that he was now 'numb'. I am not sure as to the sense of the phrase, but suffice to say that I am far from numb. In fact, my heart is so tender that it flinches at the slightest mention of his name. This is worse today, knowing that he is once again in the same city, I am unable to think of anything but him. I have run over the sitaution a million times in my head; know exactly what I want to say to him, and how I shall behave. However, this is slightly marred by the strong barrier of emotion that bars my brain from my head. I know I shall probably burst into tears. I hate him, truly I do, but I also know that I'm still slightly in love with him and that to converse normally would tear me apart. I want him to want me, so that I can turn him down, and hurt him as badly as he hurt me, but the thought that he doesn't is enough to bring a tear to my eye.
Anyway darling, enough of my rant, feel free to ignore the majority of the ramble, there is no need to absorb any of it, I was simply in need of expressing my rather confused emotions...
I so desperately wish you were able to come and live with me here. In place of my actual company we shall have to be happy with respective rants about the banes of our lives!
Do keep me filled in on every aspect of Manchester life; I miss you continuously and am only comforted by the fact that you are grafting hard in order to facilitate our reunion.
I am pleased to relate to you the commodity of the apartment in which we are installed. We have running water, acres of storage for the piteous 15 kilos each we were allocated for the flight over, which does absolutely nothing to fill the space, and a balcony overlooking a typically spanish scene. The window in my divinely pink room (further girlified by my stuffed rabbit and some beautiful rosy sheets purchased from the local supermercado) looks out over the cathedral, the most wonderfully gothic creation, encrusted with moss, which creates a beautiful silouhette against the sunset, often cooincided with my awakening.
I am rather ashamed about the amount of social gatherings I have attended since our arrival here; last night was the first which was spent in our delightful abode, and was filled with scrabble and happy families. My body has so adjusted itself to the new debaucherous regime that it struggles in sleeping before the witching hour, and awakening before noon. We have made some lovely friends, italians mainly, and the boys have gone to a nearby city tonight for a carnival with some irish acquaintances. I took the opportunity to save money and my poor little brain, which unlike my body is as yet unaccustomed to the new regime. I intend to spend the day indulging my feminine side, and typical to our miserable fate of being a woman, epilating, moisturising and rejuvenating my sunblushed skin, as well as having the necessary headspace to write to my kindred spirit across the seas.
I cannot say a bad word about my darling housemates, I adore every bone in their little bodies, but there are times when one misses female company. It is difficult to describe the jumble of emotions that is my romantic mind at the moment in english, so to do so in spanish would certainly lose the complicated train of thought, and though I'm sure they would be sympathetic, I am loathe to reveal my badly afflicted heart to the boys who may understand the thread of the conversation. I received an email on the day of my arrival informing me that the bane of my life would be out of the country until yesterday. In the same email, he informed me that he was now 'numb'. I am not sure as to the sense of the phrase, but suffice to say that I am far from numb. In fact, my heart is so tender that it flinches at the slightest mention of his name. This is worse today, knowing that he is once again in the same city, I am unable to think of anything but him. I have run over the sitaution a million times in my head; know exactly what I want to say to him, and how I shall behave. However, this is slightly marred by the strong barrier of emotion that bars my brain from my head. I know I shall probably burst into tears. I hate him, truly I do, but I also know that I'm still slightly in love with him and that to converse normally would tear me apart. I want him to want me, so that I can turn him down, and hurt him as badly as he hurt me, but the thought that he doesn't is enough to bring a tear to my eye.
Anyway darling, enough of my rant, feel free to ignore the majority of the ramble, there is no need to absorb any of it, I was simply in need of expressing my rather confused emotions...
I so desperately wish you were able to come and live with me here. In place of my actual company we shall have to be happy with respective rants about the banes of our lives!
Do keep me filled in on every aspect of Manchester life; I miss you continuously and am only comforted by the fact that you are grafting hard in order to facilitate our reunion.
All the love it is possible to send,
Hannah xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Our spanish (and almost third world) view
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