Tempting infactuations with nuns

I have yet to figure out what my infactuation with nuns is. Since I was a child, every time I turned a corner and saw a nun, a smile would spread on my face, fascinated with their robes, white, white on baby soft blue, white with royal blue trimming, and the shocking thickness of black with a splash of white. I fantasized on what their daily lives are like, what do they think about? What are they doing out on the streets? How many souls have they fed, saved, helped, consoled? And I even dare to wonder if they can see right through me, can they hear what I'm thinking, do they know I secretly wish they would talk to me?

Magically, they are everywhere in Barcelona. I can say I see one almost once a week and today I even had the pleasure of seeing one in her heavy black habit, not as common nowadays, and yet again I smiled and looked at her right in the eyes, silently hoping that she noticied me and perhaps even made a little prayer or wish for me. Sometimes I even fantasize about being one, about living for the simple task of giving, but then the sun blinds me, I turn yet another corner and see a handsome man with dark eyes in a crisp suit and say, "Nope, nunnery was not for me." But the momentary idea is tempting.

Meanwhile in the real world, I am stepping onto new territories and enjoying myself and every surprising turn my life makes. I finally moved into my new place and I love it. I can now officially say I live in Barcelona. The neighborhood is enchanting, the bar man across the street already knows me and on Karla's last day, we found a beautiful park just a few blocks away with the greenest trees and a pond with lily pads and old wooden benches with people spread across them reading and sketching. My roommates are friendly and have managed to make me feel right at home in only two days. They also speak Catalan and have promised to speak only in Catalan to me. I am even saying a few sentences and trying to have a real conversation. My bedroom will become my little alcove and the house the home I have been longing to have. I await curiously to see what will unfold from this move. In fact, that chilly fall wind has begun, the kind of wind that brings change and makes you shiver with possibilities. The leaves have begun to dress the ground and there are small silver leaves that float in the air, trumpets announcing the arrival of a new season. People even seem to have a different look on their faces, not the grumpy wrinkles of humidity.

On saturday, I finally had the oppurtunity to feel part of something social, that I can almost say is mine. I was invited to a dinner of all girls, eight of us, sitting in the lobby of el teatro nacional de catalunya, eating spinach salad, drizzled in honey and goat cheese, smoked salmon and a variety of cheeses. After a long girl talk, the catalanes seem to be much more comfortable talking about 'personal' events at the table, I sat back and listened to their tongues roll out those thick catalan words, drank my coffee, smoked my cigarettes and celebrated the fact that I'm finally settling in. Later, we met up with their boys and saw a concert which was all cover songs from the 60's and 70's in English. We danced to the songs and laughed at ourselves for still longing to live what we lived at 15. And I continue to insist that this is what it is about, simply this, girls night out, dancing until you can't, lily pads and nuns. oh and chocolate of course...