Mortal

I know, I know: I’m late. And I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for the lack of new adventures to share. I was lazy last week and wrote a day late, which allowed me to divulge all of my weekend material. Therefore, I’m left with essentially nothing right now. But, look on the bright side: less to read and hopefully lesser expectations of future posts as a result.

Starting with the highlight of the week: the paella “class”. “Class”: going to a professional chef’s kitchen and watching her make us paella. Any class where my required participation involves only a fork is obviously fantastic, and it was as glorious as you might imagine. Watching our teacher, Cati, slowly make magic out of mundane ingredients was incredible to see, but painstakingly slow to bear. In preparation for the feast, I had fasted for roughly 13 hours prior to the class. A huge feat for me in itself, but the last hour was brutal. I’d like to equate it to a fat person’s version of a marathon. The last mile, when your body says, “stop being stupid and walk” and your minds says “shut up and run,” is what hurts the most. I know what you’re thinking: my internal battle was probably far more intense than a person running 26.2 miles, and I think you’re right. May you find peace in my happiness after four servings of paella, a piece of cake, and two flans. In all seriousness though, this was the best paella I’ve ever had (sorry, Restaurante 7 Portes) but sadly, I don’t think I have the technology nor steady hand to pull off the maneuver of recreating such greatness. Cati did, however, invite me to stay in her home for the remainder of my time in Palma (I may or may not have exaggerated my poor food situation with Carlos during our lunch conversation), but I could never leave Carlos alone in the trenches taking grenades like that. I don’t know where this loyalty is coming from (see Wednesday’s lunch below) but I guess my Spanish orgullo (pride) outweighs my love of food.

Drastically switching gears, a very somber shadow was cast over the rest of my week after receiving notification that one of my Colby friends studying abroad in Chile, Derrik Flahive, had died in a drowning accident. While Derrik and I were not very close friends (we skied together once of twice and would exchange friendly cordials in passing), he was a friend nonetheless, and hearing of this loss was devastating. After talking to my friends currently on campus, I realized how strong the response of our small Colby community is to such tragedy. Even isolated on this island, I had a very powerful feeling of solidarity with those mourning in Maine and while the reality of the situation is still hard to comprehend and accept, I have gained a new perspective on what it means to have such a strong community. Additionally, as a student studying abroad, I found Derrik’s death to be as sobering of a reality check as it is a painful loss to everyone who knew him. We, as youths, are mere mortals in this world that we view as our oyster and it’s always paralyzing to be reminded that we do, in fact, have limitations. However, I find peace in the fact that Derrik lived his very short life to the fullest and ultimately, as difficult as it is to remain stuck pondering mortality, his outlook on life is something we should all aspire to replicate.

I’m currently in Madrid with my mother, father and sister until Tuesday, so this should be a fun weekend. Election day in Spain is tomorrow and since Zapatero has completed his allotted terms in office, there will be a guaranteed change in government come tomorrow evening. Should be very interesting to see firsthand. Until next time, live the dream.

Matt

Wednesday's lunch. Cold tomatoes, fish and rice. 

Cati