Day 141

Wednesday was a good day,…Pay Day. Went from 2 to 700 Euros in my pocket. That always feels good. That always feels like a little urge to treat myself before I have to budget and think about rent. Like Tina says, near the end of the month it always gets desperate….and your telling yourself, ‘ok I can spend 3.65 Euros each day for the next week’.

My first little indulgence to myself was an after school tapas brunch on Thursday with a group of other teachers from school in Torre del Mar, which is another sleepy beach town 15- 20 minutes away from Torrox. 8 of us sat around this table in a small tapa bar surrounded by trippy paintings on the wall.

Of all the things presented in the buffet of finger foods, it looked so good. It had a fancy name. The plate was decorated with caramelized apples, and drizzled in a sweet sauce, and a flaky pastry topped by this light brown and tantalizing Foie gras.

Foie. It sounded so good. So French.

I put the fork to my mouth and took a bite. It didn’t taste like anything I had before. Almost like…maybe knowing what this is will ruin it. Maybe there is a reason I’ve never tasted anything like this before. Kind of like Morcella.

New French word added to my shamefully small vocab list that day would be: LIVER.

: /

This a repeating trend.

France is haunting me. Even in the little tapa bars of Spain.

A Midnight in Paris- by Woody Allen. I watched this movie 3 times this past weekend. I loved it. I rarely watch movies more than once. It was so funny and easy to fall for! Not to mention, Paris IS enchanting like that.

I think the comparison that cities are like men fits here.

If cities were men Torrox would be a husband. He’s stable, experienced, responsible, things are a bit predictable but convenient. I feel safe and comfortable, we have a rutine and it works. I have no regrets besides, we have 2.5 kids now, so what are you going to do.

Malaga would be a boyfriend. We see each other on the weekends and we meet up during the week sometimes. We FB and text and I know he’s mine and he’ll put up with me. Even though I’ve gained a little weight and I’ve started to wear sweat pants around him, things are still exciting. Little surprises here and there, its new and we are still discovering each other, I’m always charmed and flattered by him but I have my doubts still. We’ve had a few fights already, but we always make up.

Paris though. Paris would be a lover. Paris seduces you, woos you, draws you in and doesn’t let you go till your satisfied. In him I get caught up and captivated and if even if he had noticeable flaws I wouldn’t care. Ordinary days simply don’t exist when your with him even when doing the simplest of things. The time with him fleets in idealic intensity. He feeds me with passion, fills me with desire and then lingers when he goes away.

Give me a man or give me a city but my restlessness needs one of them.

I do admit to having a fling this week.

His name is Ernest.

I met him in the town library one evening under the dim light that hangs above the 5 shelves in the English books section. I didn’t notice him at first, but I caught him stealing glances at me. I looked him over then approached him. He was handsome but had a bit of rough on the edges look, but he opened up a bit I liked what he had to say. I wanted more. His last name was Hemingway. And he spoke of a American living in Paris who goes to Spain he described these ideas by saying The Sun Also Rises. I wanted to take him home with me. I didn’t think it could be a coincidence that we met in Torrox! Especially after A Midnight in Paris- an American, Paris, Spain…a book in English for once!

The librarian didn’t quite understand my infatuation and tried to extinguish my thirst by telling me that it would take a month, maybe month and a half to process the application for a library card and therefore I wouldn’t be able to check out any books until then. That my Hemingway would have to wait.

I don’t know why I have particularly delinquent behavior in libraries this week. I didn’t show up to the library drunk this time,…but I did have to take matters into my own hands. Paris is calling me and I can’t ignore it. I said I need a city or I need a man, and Hemingway was him. He was coming home with me, no question about it. That night he slipped into my dress and I slipped out the library door.

I’ll bring him back when I’m done with with him though….and then maybe I’ll move on to a city.

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