Escape Artist.

This morning I left Barcelona and flew to Bilbao. As the plane crossed over the city and circled out over the water before landing, I took in the view of the blue ocean with bright eyes. It was only the second time I’ve seen the ocean this semester, and there’s something about the deep, mysterious blue of an ocean that moves something in me that the Mediterranean cannot.

After landing, trying to climb a hill across the highway from the airport, and being thwarted by thorn bushes, I took the bus into the city and found my hotel. It’s technically called a “student residence,” and I can see why. I’ve got what is essentially a tiny studio, complete with a kitchen and bathtub.

After getting settled I filled the tiny bathtub (it’s about twice the size of sink) and took a tiny, cross-legged bath. Despite the miniscule proportions of the tub, it may have been the most relaxing hour of the entire semester. I let Iron & Wine play as I sat in the heavy steam and tried to work through some of the more challenging questions in my life right now. The thoughts slowly slithered through my mind like the steam above and the thick cloud around me seemed to be a barrier to the outside world, an opaque veil, through which no one could see and no one could reach me. I was safe from questions and pointed fingers and the pressures of living a complex life in a complex world. And when it was over, I stood and let the sweat of deep thinking fall from me in drops, and I felt new again. But you can only escape for so long.

Tiny kitchen

 Tiny bathtub/oversized sink