Shall I tell you about the very first football game I ever saw? Of course I didn’t see it very well because Harry couldn’t afford very good seats. In fact, the seats we got were so far back we found it better to sit on a very sturdy branch that grew over the edge of the stadium . . . and even this was crowded. I was constantly moving over to make room for others up there: six crows and three red-headed woodpeckers.
I must admit that Harry did everything possible for my comfort. We had popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs, ice cream bars. Best of all, Harry promised to pay me back the very next day . . .
Harry taught me the idea of the game. A man has to carry the football from one end of the field to the other. Isn’t that a perfectly silly thing to make a game out off? . . . But there they were . . . full-grown men running, falling, kicking all over the place just to have the ball for a few seconds . . . Why, they could have saved their money so each player had one.
My biggest confusion came when I tried to tell our team from the enemy team. Harry said that our team was the one with the football. But pretty soon the other team had the ball, and I was confused again.
One time I looked down and there was a player carrying a brass drum instead of a football. I asked Harry about it and he said it was the half. Well, it certainly looked like a whole drum to me . . . then it was the musicians’ turn to play. Of course they didn’t play football . . . they played music . . . I guess someone had kicked the football over the fence because all the players were gone quite a while looking for it. But pretty soon they found it, and the players came whooping back again.
Harry explained to me about the men with striped shirts. They seemed to be afraid of the football and just stood off to one side and played their own little game – whistle blowing. Every time a player fell down with the ball, these funny little men blew their whistles like mad and made crazy little motions with their arms. Harry said it was all part of the game.
I finally got the game figured out. I think it goes this way. Each player has a number on his back. If player number 67 catches the ball, his team scores 67 points; while if player number 88 catches the ball, his team scores 88 points. Somehow this doesn’t seem fair to players with little numbers like 13 and 15, does it? . . . It was an exciting game all the way. The final score was five thousand, nine hundred and thirty-five to zero.
Added some punctuation for clarity but the occasional . . . was part of the original.
After a school year of reading to children at the Lihue Public Library (on most Mondays), my cuz, Sj Daisy, realized that she was onto something . . . that she’d found a little piece of her heart that had been missing, covered in moss and forgotten.
And then it dawned on her that she could keep her heart united AND reach even more children by videotaping her readings (one book at a time). The children could then read along whenever it fit THEIR schedule . . . and so . . . Read Along with Sj Daisy was born.
She’ll be adding a new video each week through March 2017 (and maybe even longer . . . but this is what she feels she can commit to at the moment).
Do you have a child in your life who likes to listen to picture book stories? Or maybe YOU would like to sit back and be read to. The listener’s age doesn’t matter; no i.d.s will be checked upon entry into Sj Daisy YouTube Land.Thanks for taking a moment from your busy life to check out Sj Daisy and her YouTube channel. AND thanks for sharing her with the children in your life.
I think that you’ll be falling in love with my cousin . . . I sure did!
Think about it. If you were meant to be somewhere else, you’d be there.
And yet we stress and stress about getting through traffic, rushing to get somewhere, and we miss the point that we’re already there – where we’re meant to be.
Today Pedrata and I got to the airport nice and early so we could begin our return journey home (thanks Mark for the ride!).
There was quite a long wait as the clerk tried to figure out why they wouldn’t let her ticket my last leg of the flight. After a few phone calls, she found out that the other carrier had slightly altered the departure time of the flight.
“Okay, no big deal.” I thought, “That’s why we come to the airport so early.”
Then we waited to board our flight. After a bit, I realized that there wasn’t the standard action. As in the standard, people with small children, business class, blah, blah blah . . . “Okay, what’s up?” I thought.
Waited in line and the nice guy named Alan assured me that I’d make my connection.
“Okay, Alan, I’m going to trust you on this” (knowing that it’ll all work out as it’s meant to).
After another half hour went by, and I only had an hour between flights at my next destination, I once again approached the booth.
“I think I’ll be booking you on that other flight route,” he said as he called the others to come up to the gate.
“Got it. Thanks Alan.”
And as the plane was being boarded, he called me over to another booth. Another phone call was made. My bag was taken off the plane. And Pedrata and I just watched it all thinking to ourselves, “Wherever we’re meant to be is where we are.”
Click, click, click. I heard the new tickets being issued.
“Okay, I’ll see you in about 2 hours,” Alan said.
“Okay. Hey, any chance I can get a voucher for a coffee?” (realizing that the 2 hour nap I had planned wasn’t going to happen.)
“Sure,” he replied, “I’d be glad to. Just give me a minute.”
So we rested our dawgs and set down our heavy pack that is carrying a rather LARGE cast iron skillet that my mother graciously gave me when I happened to mention sometime that I think I’d actually like to use one. It cracked me up how she remembered that (I didn’t remember telling her that), but then will forget other things that can seem so important to me.
No matter. If she’s meant to remember anything, she will.
. . .
Fast forward to being on the first plane of three.
I’m chatting it up with a woman sitting beside me . . . and lo and behold, it ends up that she knew my Dad. LOVED my Dad.
“I LOVED your Dad,” she gushed. “And my husband too; he really misses him. Your Dad used to help my granddaughter with tennis tips.”
Yup, sounds like my Dad.
Thanks Dad for that little shout out and hello!
And thanks for helping to orchestrate that flight change so that I could be so clearly reminded and SHOWN how we’re ALWAYS where we’re meant to be!
I LOVE how you’re always keeping an eye on me. Ever present in my life.
as experienced through the eyes, ears, feet, stomach, and heart of Sj.
If you’re looking for a WHAT to DO, WHAT to EAT, WHERE to STAY type of post regarding San Sebastián, you’re in the wrong place.
Nice meeting you, and I wish you well as you search for all that data.
If you want to know how it FELT to be in San Sebastián, you’re in the right place.
Overall, it felt good; though at times it was quite cold for this Kaua‘i gal. And on two particular days, it was quite hot (37 Celsius or 98.6 Fahrenheit). It was amazing how the temperature could change by about 20 degrees Fahrenheit from one day to the next. Fortunately, I had my Mom’s silk long underwear; so I was ready for anything.
The following is a list of my personal fav experiences and/or thoughts.
Of all the places I’ve visited during my life (and that’s been plenty), I have never before encountered a collection of people who were as consistently kind and helpful.
Yes, for real.
From the grocery clerk who was helping an elderly woman make sure some product didn’t have something in it that would harm a family member who had some particular food allergy to the tour boat captain who must have seen at least 5,000,000 visitors come on his boat and ask the same questions (over and over and over again).
I can’t promise you that that’s what you’ll experience, but for me, I did. Time and time again, I met kind people who looked me in the eye and really listened.
She’s not from San Sebastián; she’s French and lives in Paris, but her performance in a quartet during their annual jazz festival was one of my aural highlights. Her talent, exuberance, joy in doing exactly what she was doing at the particular moment (singing!) was an incredible gift to all of us lucky folk who were there that Saturday evening in late July.
I just enjoyed looking at Jesus up on the hill. And I had the good fortune of residing in an apartment which faced the ocean (and Jesus on the hill across the way) during my four week stay.
This is the language school that I happened to pick. There are many. Each person who worked there that I had the opportunity to get to know (either as a teacher or as a guide on one of the many excursions they host) was kind, professional, knowledgeable, and just cool. Yup, you guys rock, Silvia, Ester, Gorka, Idoia, Concha, Nora, Sara, and Salva!
The combination of mountains and sea.
Face it. I call Kaua‘i home and to find a place in the world where I could go for a hike and swim on the same day while learning Spanish . . . it just doesn’t get any better than that.
The town itself. It’s not too big; it’s not too small, but it’s . . . just right!
I liked how San Sebastián is laid out, how you can’t get too lost because you just need to figure out where the ocean or a particular hill is and then which bridge you’re seeing . . . and voila! I’d realize where I was.
Peaches (melocotones)
Okay, it was summer. And the peaches were dripping with yummy goodness. I love fresh, ripe peaches!
For less than a bottle of water (which wasn’t necessary in San Sebastián, per my host, their water comes from the Pyrénées mountains and is very clean), you can buy a glass of vino rosado. I didn’t have it everyday, but when I did, I really enjoyed it. It’s not super sweet like we have the U.S., and the color is really beautiful.
And now for a random collection of photographs . . .
Enjoy!
✫ Sj ✫
p.s. You’ll notice that Pintxos (Basque word for tapas) are not on my list. Most people go on and on about them. The locals love them. They were alright, but being a gal who really prefers vegetables over meat, they were just okay to me.
Heading home after my last day of school in Donostia,
I passed these adorable children who were putting on a show for their families.
What a perfect way to close this particular paragraph of my life, I thought.
If you’ve got two minutes and thirty nine seconds to spare, click play and be a fly on the wall in a moment in time.
And no, I really have no idea what’s going on. I just loved their energy and seeing how children are the same the world over.
✫ Sj out ✫
p.s. the particulars of this particular part of my trip are still to come . . . I’ll most probably write it on Monday while on the train from San Sebastián to Paris. : ) Until then . . . toodle-oo!
p.p.s. BUT I do have an encore video to post of those two guys who were playing music in the first street music video I posted; it’s coming soon! :
“What’s been happening, Sj? You’ve been in Spain three weeks now. You told us that it was a mind-+&^%$#k moving into another language. You sent us a short video of street music, but that’s it! Are you still alive? Still engaged? Still learning?”
Sí
Sí
y
Sí
“Kay, but what’s been happening?”
Loads. Bunches. Heaps. Muchas. All KINDS of things!
But what I’m finding is that what I most enjoy is simply being.
Being in Spain.
Being in Europe.
Being on this planet.
A walk to school is an adventure.
Turn here? Or there? Haven’t been on this street yet.
I stop. I look up. I love the architecture. The little balconies. The high windows. The clothes hanging on the accordian-like clothes lines which protrude from the base of random windows. The donging of cathedral bells. I love the city gardens. The green tomatoes I pass as I go down about 5,000 stairs when leaving the villa I’m fortunate enough to be living in while I’m here (in San Sebastián).
I love the random hazelnut in my muesli that I’m currently eating.
I love the view from this extraordinary top floor flat. That I can say hey to Jesus across the way. That I can watch storm clouds gather. See sailboats on the horizon. Barges. Rain upon the window panes. And lots and lots of green all around the mostly terra-cotta roofs to my right (which faces another hill where there are amazing hiking trails).
Yes, it sometimes makes it hard to get things done when all I want to do is stop and be silent. Observe. Feel. Smell.
But I’ve come to realize that that is what we’re really here to do. To be. To experience. To feel.
Sure, we have to do those odd things like go to school, get a job, and then work to earn money to feed and clothe ourselves.
But
But
But
The BEING, I feel, is the absolute most important thing.
The awareness of who we are.
That each and every one of us is a walking miracle.
A walking act of grace in the shape of skin and bones.
Each and every one of us.
So . . . Sj, what’s been happening in Spain? you ask.
Loads.
Heaps.
Mountainous piles of everything.
Next time I’ll fill you in with some particulars.
But for now, enjoy wherever you are. Feel the air on your skin. Notice your breath.
