San Juan Festival

I spent last night at the San Juan festival on the beach in Valencia, jumping over waves (12 times) and bonfires (7 times) and finishing glasses of wine (300 times) for purity or luck or making a wish (never figured out which one it was).  I’m not sure if I’ve been cleansed and made pure, and my luck is typically correlated with how hard I’m hustling, but I’m all for making wishes.  It seems as though a lot of my wishes have already been granted simply by having the opportunity to do this program.  But why not try for one more, right?

My big wish is to keep feeling the way I feel today.  Not the hungover part, that I can do without (red flag, Mom and Dad!).  But the oh-hell-yes-ness that I’m living.  Ups and downs are inevitable but I’ve been anxiously awaiting the come down, the detox, the withdrawal.  The time when this feels normal, commonplace, boring even.  It’s been 4 weeks and I’m not feeling that way, fortunately.  So come on San Juan, I did the jumps.  You keep me in the air.

Grainy photo with Cait, Sam, and the pink moon

In other news —- right now I have two thoughts:

One is being thankful that even in the mess that is Brexit, I am wildly more informed and interested in it through the people I’ve met here.  Not saying I didn’t pay attention to current events in the states, but this was a big WHY of mine for being here on Remote Year – to continually gain perspectives and broaden my worldview.  And here ya go.  Pay attention folks, something that seemed ridiculious and irrational and impossible just happened.  And could happen again come November.

My second main thought at the moment? How I’m about to DEMOLISH this salad.

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