If home is where the heart is, then my heart is in two different places

Madrid. Taken from our apartment balcony.


I just arrived home after being in Madrid for two nights. By home, I mean Logroño. It was a weird sensation feeling at home in a place other than Sydney. It’s official. I’ve settled.

As much as I miss home, I haven’t felt home sick per se.

So back to Madrid. As much fun as I had, the city isn’t for me. I guess because it reminded me a lot of Sydney. Big, and commercial, fast paced with fast food.

This payphone is proudly brought to you by KFC.

I went with five friends and we were scolded what felt like every five minutes. We were shopping the first time it happened. Three of the girls took a photo while inside a store, and were told off by the sales assistant.

The second, third and bajillionth time it happened, we were in an art museum. Sometimes you were allowed to take photos, as long you didn’t use flash. Take two steps forward into another room and suddenly you weren’t allowed to take photos at all. When it came to seeing Picasso’s Guernica, you were allowed to stand a few metres away from the painting and observe it, but if you wanted to take a photo you had to step back and do it from outside the doorway. We learnt all these things by getting told off.

The final time it happened I was at Madrid’s famous El Rastro flea market. I took a photo of some antique coins, and the stall-holder (an old, cranky man) literally smacked me on the arm and yelled at me (in Spanish), saying that I deserved to be slapped. Conclusion: when in Madrid you’re better off not taking any photos.



We had a crazy night out on the second day. This picture pretty much sums it up. Let’s just say the night started with three beautifully intact flowers, and finished with a flower, a stem and a straw.



What I'm going to miss about Madrid though, are the art museums. Rembrandt, Miro, Renoir, Picasso, and Dali. I saw them with my own eyes, and stood as close to the canvases as the artists them selves once did.

Picasso's Guernica

Love, Noeline
xox

Siesta, Fiesta

One thing I’ve learned so far (but have yet to master) from being in Spain is how to prioritise rest. Every Monday to Saturday, from about two and four in the afternoon, all the restaurants and shops (except major supermarkets and shopping centres) close. In what is known as siesta, most people go home to nap. During this time the streets are almost deserted; an odd scene to envision in the middle of a beautiful day in a beautiful city that was bustling just moments before. After that it’s business as usual until about 9pm.

Sundays are even worse. True to its Christian roots, Sunday really is a day of rest. This time EVERYTHING, ALL DAY is closed. While the country falls asleep around me, I usually find myself fidgeting, looking for something to do, or tossing around in my bed.

That’s because in my country we’re taught how to sacrifice basic human needs like sleep, eating well and keeping a healthy social life in order to work hard. For the most part, the country is still open on public holidays. Rest, we’re told, comes when you retire. There are hundreds of tourism ads aimed at retirees into going on lavish holidays ‘because they deserve it.’ But why do we have to overwork ourselves in order to deserve something?

Another thing I’ve learnt from the Spaniards, is how to prioritise fun. According to Spanish Living, “every day throughout the year there are fiestas taking place somewhere in Spain, either at a local, regional or national level.” Some are held in honour of patron saints, others in local folklore. Some well known ones include the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona (self explanatory), and La Tomatina in Valencia (tomato fight). I was lucky enough to catch the Festival of the Three Kings on my second day of arriving in Logrono. It featured an extravagant street parade of people dressed up as The Three Kings who brought Jesus gifts, throwing lollies at children in the crowd.

The nightlife here is more like early-morning-life. There are lounge bars you can go to from around midnight. But clubs don’t usually open till about 3am, and close at around 7am. Plus, they don’t wait till Friday or Saturday to go out, clubs are open on Thursdays too – yes, a school night. In comparison, clubs in Sydney die down by around 2am.

Where do they get all the energy? Probably from all the siestas they’ve taken during the week... no... their life.

Siesta and fiesta. You do it not because you deserve it from overworking yourself, but simply for being human and alive.

Love, Noeline
xox

Chupitos from bar Absolut

Festival of the Three Kings

Three stop overs, one bus and one taxi later…

It took me 36 hours of travel, but welcome to my first post from Logrono, Spain.

I’ve been just over a week and I’ve spent everyday exploring some nook or cranny of this beautiful city. When travelling, keeping yourself busy is one of the best ways to avoid homesickness.

But with sore ankles permitting me from going out, I’ve finally been forced to sit down and reflect.

For starters, the weather here is the coldest I’ve ever experienced in my life – a big deal for people whose moods are predetermined by the weather. But I’m sucking it up.

I’ve also never felt so grown up in my life. Now I can say I’ve solidly lived out of home. Now I can say I’ve had a roommate, and had my patience tested by them. Now I can say I’ve done my own groceries and cooked my own food… and survived. Now I can say I’ve worried about money, I mean really worried about money; about whether or not I have enough to survive, as opposed to something superficial like being able to ‘afford’ a pair of high heels.

I realised that being able to afford something doesn’t mean having enough cash or money on your credit card to buy it. It’s about how much you don’t have to sacrifice in order to make that purchase.

I’m falling in love with this city, and am glad I chose it. Not Madrid. Not Barcelona. But the one most people have never heard of. It’s one thing to say you’ve been to all the top tourist destinations in the world, but all that shows is that you know how to read Lonely Planet. It’s another thing to go somewhere unpublished, to ask locals for directions and be told where to get the best pinchos. For me, that’s the difference between travelling and living in another country.

It’s a weird feeling when I consciously realise I’m speaking another language in a foreign country. That it all sprung from something as simple as a word in my head, an ‘ok’ to study International Studies at uni. People make small decisions in their head all the time without realising the power of where it can, or will eventually take them.

So here’s some things I’ve noticed about my town. There is a fuck load of dogs, yet the city retains its peaceful qualities because they don’t bark. My one dog at home makes more noise than all the dogs here combined, squared, and multiplied by a hundred. There are few gardens to keep them in, so there are about two or three dogs being walked down every street at any given time. I’ve only seen one cat, and it was wild.

Old people run this town. Unlike Australia where the elderly are mostly found in nursing homes, their Spanish compatriots wander around the town till past midnight. The women wear fur coats, walk down the street with linked arms, exchanging gossip and giggling – it’s like Sex and the City meets Meryl Streep meets Spain.

Classes started this week and I needed to buy a notebook. Only problem is their note books are what we call grid books, and grid books bring me bad memories. I used them for math class in high school, my most torturous subject ever. This was one thing I couldn’t suck up. Instead, I trolled dozens of discount stores before striking gold. What’s even more annoying is that similarly, grid books are impossible to find in Sydney.





Also, in bars and cafes people throw their rubbish on the ground below them. Literally. I guess it’s easier to sweep the serviettes up than pick them out from between dirty dishes.



I’ve met some pretty cool people while here. With a particular group of girls, it’s funny because we all speak English but have different accents. We then argue over the names of things are. Like, thong or g-string, hair tie or bobble, cell or mobile. It’s a bit of a struggle making friends with actual Spanish people because our classes are separate from theirs.

The architecture here is amazing, especially the old town with its cobblestone footpaths, sandstone buildings, and baroque churches.

I hope the rest of this year goes as quickly as my first week. And in between my classes for Spanish Language, Spanish Conversation, Spanish Cooking, History and Art of the Camino de Santiago, and doing culture assignments through correspondence for my uni back in Sydney – I’m going to do my best keeping you guys posted with my more interesting antics.

Actually, I’m going to a discoteca for the first time tonight.

Hasta luego, muchachos.

Love, Noeline
xox

New year, old habits

It's funny how much hope a change of the years can bring. There's so much optimism and good cheer it's hard to imagine that anything can go wrong.

It's in this very spirit that we make new years resolutions for ourselves. And for just a few minutes we genuinely set ourselves a regimen of exercise, healthy eating and weight loss; of finding partners and friends who are better for us; of finding a better job or becoming a better person.

What I can assure you though, is that tomorrow on the news someone somewhere will have killed anther person, someone will be robbed and a someone else will be run over.

Similarly, tomorrow you will not exercise, you will not eat healthy and you will probably gossip about someone. You probably won't look online or in the newspaper for a new job, you will do absolutely nothing and hope that it finds you.

But whether it's a new year, a new month, a new week or even a new day - God gives us hundreds opportunities to "start fresh," we just have to see them that way.

I think what determines a good year is how you, personally, deal with the inevitable troubles that come with being human - rather than somehow surpassing it all. I think that's one of the reasons why God puts us through shit, because we're too lazy to challenge ourselves.

So for what it's worth, my dear readers, happy new year. But more importantly, I hope you all find the strength within yourselves EVERYDAY to keep going when life is hard; to one day look back at it all and be thankful for the personal growth you gained because of it.

Love, Noeline
xox

Going the Distance: LDR's

Long distance relationships are commonly associated with couples where one person is in the military, or as a result of online dating. I’ve personally never dated a guy who lived outside of my own city. But as I set for Spain in about a week, my close distance relationship of five amazing years is set to become a long distance one. As stated by romance coach Leslie Karsner, what some people fail to understand is that “no one chooses to be in a long distance relationship, often times they choose you.” As straining and impractical it will be, we don’t intend on breaking up over it. According to Stephen Blake, best selling author of ‘Loving your Long Distance Relationship,’ there are about 10 million couples in a long distance relationship worldwide (LDR).

So how do you go the distance with an LDR?

DEFINE YOUR RELATIONSHIP
Are you seeing each other, boyfriend-girlfriend or engaged? You need a title. Define exclusivity. Are you allowed to see other people? This will help avoid misunderstanding later down the line.


SCHEDULE COMMUNICATION
Agree to communicate a certain number of times in a period. “Keeping each other informed of the friendships you have with other people and the events that take place in your personal life is a great way to keep your relationship alive and healthy; and continues to make your partner a part of your life” (eNotAlone). This may be through email, texting, calling, or skyping. Let your partner know in advance if you won’t be able to make it on a particular occasion. Consider time differences and work which mobile deals will give you the best rates.


VISIT EACH OTHER
People in relationships don’t spend the whole time talking; oftentimes you’re actually doing things together. Since you’ll be sacrificing this part of your relationship (and let’s face it, that’s a massive chunk), make vacations to see each other.

While I’m going to be experiencing a lot of firsts (the first time living out of home - let alone in another country where they speak a different language, doing my own washing, cooking, paying bills, etc.) – my boyfriend will also be going through his own whirlwind of a year by undertaking honours at uni. Unfortunately for us, honours students don’t get holidays like normal undergraduates do – which cancels out all chances of him visiting me. I guess we’re just going to have to work that little bit harder in other areas…


TRUST EACH OTHER
“Stories will begin to revolve around people you’ve never heard of and [he or she will] begin to take on certain characteristics you won’t recognize” (AskMen). That much is inevitable. With that said however, “as long as you are both interested in being in the relationship… distance will not make a difference. As soon as one of you decides the other is not a good match—or someone else is a better match—your relationship ends, whether you live 3000 miles apart, two streets over, or share the same bed with your wedding picture on the wall” (WikiHow).


EXCHANGE BELONGINGS
“Give them a personal object of yours so in a time of need, when they miss you, they are able to hold on to something that once belonged to you” (WikiHow).


SURPRISE THEM
Turn up by surprise, or send a thoughtful gift – like an inside joke item.


Whether you're the one that leaves or the one that gets left behind, no doubt that LDR's are hard. Here's to hoping for the best.

Love, Noeline
xox

A message

To my beautiful readers,

Merry Christmas!


Love, Noeline
xox

Amazing

Gotcha!

Love, Noeline
xox

Private Parts: Penmanship

I think it's the little things about people that say the most about them. For example, for me there's something intimate, personal and private about people's handwriting. It fascinates me.

As much as technology and computers have simplified the labour of paperwork and filing cabinets - I think it has also impersonalised our personal lives. I mean, when was the last time you wrote something down, like really wrote something down? I've been in a few situations where friends were required to fill something out, only for them to say "Man, I haven't written anything down in ages, I've forgotten how to write!" You might know your best friend's mobile number off by heart, but would you be able to spot their handwriting if you ever saw it?

My boyfriend and I don't interact much over the interwebs. We're a bit more old fashioned, which I love. He leaves notes for me in my room. When he went away on holidays, rather than sending emails he kept a notebook and wrote to me in it, and gave it to me to read when he came back. I always bag him out about how incredibly messy his handwriting is, about how slow he writes and his bad grammar - but truth is I wouldn't have it any other way. It's just so him.






I on the other hand have always held my pen incorrectly. When I was in year four, I was the first person in the whole grade to get my pen license. But if my teacher only saw my handwriting now, she'd probably faint. My handwriting depends on who I'm writing to, my mood, and how much time I have - which makes me a graphologists worst nightmare.

I write like this 90% of the time, especially during uni lectures. It's messy enough for me to write fast, and legible enough for me to guess what it says when referring back to them later.

I write like this when neatness is a priority and I'm probably going to be studying from it later on - like notes on Spanish grammar.

For when I'm feeling fun and laid back.

When I'm in a downright rush.

I press down so hard leave impressions overleaf.

Graphology is the science of analysing people's handwriting to make deductions abut their personality. They'd probably go "fuck this chick" and assign me with multi-personality disorder. Nonetheless, below is a rough guideline for analysing your own handwriting, and that of others if you're privileged enough to see it. Taken from PersonalityQuiz.net

1. Your letters slope,

Backward - indicates that you are shy, hesitant and afraid to show your feelings.

Straight up and down - indicates that you are a person with a strong need for contact.

Forward - indicates that you are reticent and self-controlled.



2. The letters in your words are,

Fully connected - indicates that you are a social person who likes to talk and meet others.

Partially connected - indicates that you are a shy, idealistic person who does not find it easy to have relationships.

Unconnected - indicates that you are a person who thinks before acting, intelligent and thorough.



3. The spaces between your words are,

Wide - indicates that you are reserved, shy, cautious, and thoughtful.

Narrow - indicates that you are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!

No spaces - indicates that you are impatient and self-confident.



4. How close together are your lines of writing?

Very far apart - indicates that you are isolated, detached and reserved.

Apart far enough that letters do not touch - indicates that you enjoy social interactions and are talkative.

Close enough so that the descendants touch the ascendants - indicates that you like to be organized.



5. What color ink did you choose?

Blue black - indicates that you are rational and conservative. You adhere to conventions and traditions.

Red - indicates that you are spiritual rather than material, and may have a deep understanding of other people's problems.

Light blue - indicates that you are strong, vital, energetic and affectionate. You also have an original approach.



6. How large was your capital I in the sample?

Larger than the other capital letters - indicates that you are a person with a high opinion of yourself, or who wants others to think that you do.

Smaller than other capitals - indicates that you are well adjusted and harmonious, a person content with your current role.



7. What do your t bars look like?

Crossbars tend to be to the left of the stem of the 't' - indicates that you are cautious, possibly uncertain about things.

Cross the 't' more or less in the middle - indicates that you are not very original but quite responsible.

Crossbars tend to be to the right of the stem of the 't' - indicates that you are reliable and conscientious with leadership qualities.



8. Your writing slopes,

Upward - indicates that you are energetic, optimistic, and assertive.

Downward - indicates that you are steadfast, purposeful, and possibly aloof.



9. Which takes the most space vertically in a line of your writing?

The ascenders - indicates that you are idealistic, ambitious, and intuitive.

The middle zone letters - indicates that you are a materialist, and prone to exaggeration.

The descenders - indicates that you have a tendency to be bossy.



10. How much pressure does your writing show?

Fine and spidery - indicates that you are a person of sensitivity, refinement, modesty, and spirituality. You may also be overly critical and austere.

Firm and even - indicates that you are a person of strong but rigid will, obstinate but powerful.

Heavy - indicates that you are a person of energy and elasticity, able to roll with the punches and adapt to whatever life brings.

What does your handwriting say about you?

Love, Noeline
xox

Being oblivious never worked out so good

I don’t normally divulge in things about my private life on this blog. But I promise it will be a little bit more interesting than telling you about the outfit I put together today.

The desire to travel and the refusal to throw parties for oneself is a bad combination, especially for friends who like farewell parties (or any parties for that matter).

I have no idea where I it came from, but I have this weird mentality where I feel uncomfortable throwing events in my own honour. Whatever it was that convinced Egyptian kings to have pyramids built in the name of their own self-glorification – well, I don’t have any of it. Zilch. Nada.

I can’t even muster buying real jewellery for myself without feeling lame. I’d rather they came freely from other people. So while my jewellery count stands at zero, I was recently surprised with a farewell party by my beautiful cousins.

I was expecting to have lunch in the city with my cousins, my brother and his girlfriend followed by dinner and clubbing with a friend.

Moments after arriving in the city however, an apologetic message from my friend broke that “some hectic family shit just came up,” and that we’d have to postpone our plans to some other time.

Upon meeting up with one cousin, we headed towards George Street where our other cousin was supposedly exchanging some money for his mum. I was lead towards this supposed money exchange (that by the way looked nothing like an office building).

While waiting for the elevator I noticed someone standing uncomfortably close to me. I looked to my side and recognised my boyfriend who was supposed to be at work that day. Turns out they didn’t need him to come in, and decided to hang out with us instead. Funny thing is, my boyfriend was apparently walking alongside us from the moment I met up with my cousin, and on numerous occasions walked straight past him without noticing. His pretending to be a stranger invading my personal space entertainingly turned my snobbery into a practical joke, especially for my cousins who saw the whole thing.

We got off on the 13th floor, and I made it all the way inside a hotel apartment without suspecting a thing.
“Where’s Raynald [our cousin], and why are we here?”
“This is for you, it’s for your farewell. Surprise!”
With tears in my eyes I hugged them one by one.

We had dinner on our balcony with a view, and another cousin arrived just in time to join us.

Later that night, my very friend who cancelled dinner because of family issues turned up at the hotel. They were all in on it.

After that, two more cousins arrived. (Yes, I have more cousins than the average bear).

It was a memorable night to say the least. I love them so much, and I thank God for blessing me with such beautiful friends and family. I’m going to miss them.

Thank you so much: Nicolo (party planner and life saver), EJ (esp. for eating the shy piece), Charisse (esp. for your camera when mine died), Chester, Raynald (esp. for your credit card that paid for the hotel), Sunita, Brieanna, Geraldine (esp. for your towels) and Jason.








Love, Noeline
xox

The Shy Piece

Have you ever noticed 'the shy piece?' It's the last piece of food that most people are too shy or too polite to take. It occurs when a collective group of people all believe somebody else probably wants it more than they do, or that someone else has already called mental 'dibs' on it. In severe circumstances, this poor piece of food winds up cold to the point of being unappetizing.

I laugh a little inside every time I see one. I might even start a photo collection of them.

A shy piece of salt and pepper squid from my work Christmas party.

Love, Noeline
xox