GOING WITH THE FLOW
Helen Shapiro says it best in her song “walking back to
happiness.”
Although, the words ‘happy’ and ‘unhappy’ don’t sit too well with me. They feel very black and white- and really are the reserve of very small children. “Is little Johnny a happy bunny today?” a loving parent may well ask... well… judging by the snot- filled face of anger glowering back at them (due in large to his toast being cut into unequal triangles), perhaps not. However asking a single 40 year woman (or man) that same question- regarding their “happy bunny” status- in today’s quite complex and transient world is not quite the same thing.
It gets a little grey sometimes, Johnny.
“Will you downstream the tennis for me?” my mother asked me
the day before Wimbledon started- we howled with laughter. We laugh like mad women when we’re together. Often
loud, side- splitting, raucous squeals of fun! However these last few months
have seen other types of tears run down past my jawline- mainly tears of uncertainty, fear, enormous self -doubt and buckets and buckets of good old fashioned worry. Changing your life with no concrete plan, is not for the faint- hearted!
***
Queasy with tiredness – I clambered out of my warm bed in Cork and called my mother. It was 3am, July 3rd 2019- time to go to the airport. “Just enjoy yourself
girl, and grab it all with open arms- call me soon” and off she bolted in her
silver bullet Yaris.
My mother.
The best woman I know.
I sat in Cork airport, waiting for my flight to Palma. I felt little or no expectation and took the view that this would be a summer holiday- a place to perhaps decide what it was I should do with my life. I felt light- hearted and grateful that I had so many options in life.
The people beside me were drinking Bulmers cider at 4.30
am. Fair play. Although it made me nauseous to imagine drinking anything other
than water at this early hour. A perfectly pleasant mother and daughter (I guessed by
their similar noses) - all ¾ length white holiday pants and freshly shellacked
shiny toenails peeping out from diamanté encrusted sandals, sat beside me. They
were absolutely swilling it down like two prop forwards after a club final. Touché. Everyone else stared peering bleary-eyed into their or other’s phones. I later overheard
the mother say how glad she was to be finished the chemo. A big great Cheers to them and to her for surviving cancer, I
thought. I hope they are having the bloody holiday of a lifetime!
Looking up at the departures board, I reflected a bit, on my
last few months since skydiving out of life as I knew it. I was ready for
something new but couldn’t find it. I was a free agent0 no house, no job and no dependants. At 40 - what does one do with all this freedom!
I’d thought I’d move to Barcelona at first, then Dubai and of course my beloved Ballydehob in West Cork… I researched all options. Teaching in China even came on the cards. A job opening up a new primary school for Rafa Nadal in Spain even made it onto my list, but nothing felt quite right. Fear took hold and I found myself applying for another teaching job in my hometown....
I’d thought I’d move to Barcelona at first, then Dubai and of course my beloved Ballydehob in West Cork… I researched all options. Teaching in China even came on the cards. A job opening up a new primary school for Rafa Nadal in Spain even made it onto my list, but nothing felt quite right. Fear took hold and I found myself applying for another teaching job in my hometown....
My brother phoned me up- “Liz, Jesus like, let the teaching go, will
you?- it's over- you’re clinging onto it like an old boyfriend- break up and MOVE
ON for f**k sake” The air of sibling frustration
in his usual calm and relaxed demeanour made me listen well. That was the
moment I knew if I was going to give this new life a shot- I had to throw off
that old comfort blanket, that
had heretofore kept me all snuggly- wuggly. No more clinging to the old stuff...
All that was needed now was that I take myself, my open
heart and my free mind to Mallorca on a one way ticket. So that’s exactly what
I did…
Day 1- Arrive in Palma. 10 am and already 25 degrees. Blue skies
overhead. I got the bus into the city and after a short little stroll plonked
my humid head on my brother’s couch and turned on the fan- full blast. Fionnula
the Fan - my new best friend. Love, love , LOVE her. Queasy with tiredness and
sleep deprived, I went to bed early and within seconds was out cold- I say cold,
I mean hot. 12 hours later I awoke.
Day 2- Went on a date with a local man. I’ll just leave that
there for now…
Day 3- Had to leave the apartment due to circumstances beyond
my control. Made my way out to a seaside harbour town to stay with a person I barely
knew. I took a chance. Long story but let’s just say- it didn’t pay off. Think Donald Trump hats, Love Island cocktails, Union
Jacks, lots of personal drama stories- all slathered together with enough baby oil
to massage a Surefreight truck of new born babies.
I left after 24 hours with a woman from Dublin- a kind soul that rescued me from the madness!
-“Ah, Jaysus, stop”…. says she, “I knew now Liz, you’d not like that carry- on, I mean some of the wans that come over here... stop the lights”
- “Liz, isn’t it?” she glanced at me sideways as we bombed
back down the highway towards the city. No air con needed, “just open them
windows there and let the wind blow on yizzer face, there ya go now luv”
- “ Well, I suppose, I… I… just got it wrong on this occasion" I shouted over the noise of the wind tornading through the car.. but…”
-“Don’t get me wrong now Liz, she interrupted in her thick Dublin bróg - God bless
them an’ all for, you know, putting you up for the night, but now Liz” she
continued “look-it, the Lord is good and he’s watching over you now as you
start a new life for yourself here, shur…I did the same me-self 30 odd years
ago, then I fell in love with a Spanaird- and that was it then. Goodnight, Irene!
"C'mere to me" she went on- I’d say you’ll be grand- you’re a well- travelled woman be the sounds of it, and more power to ya- but that was maybe a little timely reminder now to not be trustin’ too many people, d’ya get me?”
"C'mere to me" she went on- I’d say you’ll be grand- you’re a well- travelled woman be the sounds of it, and more power to ya- but that was maybe a little timely reminder now to not be trustin’ too many people, d’ya get me?”
“God bless ya now love, and fair play for changing your life, stay in touch, if ya need an-ting
atall atall, gimme a call and we’ll go for an ol’ cuppa. Take care now darlin! Adios!”
And off she bombed down La Rambla in the morning haze.
I walked the city streets with my bags and wondered where would I rest my head for the night. I needed a plan...
Evening of Day 4 - the
local man I went on a date with kindly asked his friend to let me stay in his
spare room for a few nights. I arrived to this flat. I met the date’s friend-
and his girlfriend. We hit it off immediately. Good people. Open and kind. They
made me feel so at home. We chatted for hours over wine and tapas and the loud hustle
and bustle of a Spanish market.
By the way, I don’t normally stay with virtual strangers in
foreign cities ( nor would I advise it) - this is not a well- honed habit! But something told me these were good people.
Day 5- spent the day with date’s friends at secluded
beaches, swimming, eating olives and serrano ham, drinking beer and inhaling
change. Date was off on his boat sailing the Majorcan high seas.
Day 6- Walked the
streets some more, looking, listening, discovering. Bought a hat. Drank a beer and smiled to myself- alot.
Day 7- Made my way back to the familiarity of my brothers
apartment. Unpacked. Played music, went to the market again, started teaching
myself some Spanish, cooked food and listened to the sounds. Music wafted down the street from
some apartment or other, dogs barked, the clink of cutlery hitting off plates from the apartment
below, babies cried, then laughed and the sky turned a thundery orange. Before
long, a downpour. Thank God. Humidity - get thee gone! I sat by the window and watched the water fall from the sky and let the cool
evening breeze glide over my face, slowly felt my soul settle.
“RAFA, RAFA, RAFA, a deep booming male voice bellowed
from the street to a balcony above… a common name here, it would seem. This went on for ages! No sign
of bloody Rafa- tennis related or otherwise.
Day 8- Met the previously mentioned local man for a second
date. It went well. Nice guy. Again, I’ll just drop that in there for now.
Day 9/10/11- Continued to unpack. Enjoyed having a place to myself again. After 4 years living alone, followed by 6 months living with my mother, it felt nice to wander around the aprtment doing what I wanted.
Went to a little beach with my new German friend. We talked and laughed like old friends and shared stories of travel. This chica and me have a lot in common it would seem and I’m glad I found her. She, like me, left home and catapulted herself into a world of change four years ago. We raised a glass to ourselves and watched the super yachts drop anchor. Different world.
Went to a little beach with my new German friend. We talked and laughed like old friends and shared stories of travel. This chica and me have a lot in common it would seem and I’m glad I found her. She, like me, left home and catapulted herself into a world of change four years ago. We raised a glass to ourselves and watched the super yachts drop anchor. Different world.
Day 12- Sent an email to a local English newspaper that I’d been reading on and off since May wondering
if they had any vacancies for a burgeoning travel writer/student journalist from Cork.
Got an quick response.
Day 13- Went to the local newspaper to meet the editor for a relaxed interview. Got a job as a proof reader! Great start! I was delighted! Finally a foot in the door of writing!
Day 14- Third date with the local man- George- to celebrate the new job. A pacey motorbike ride to a villa high high up in
the mountains overlooking the ocean for evening supper and a beer in a small Catalan speaking restaurant.My heart raced
a little as I sat on the back of his bike, wind blowing in my hair, my pale Irish arms
wrapped around his Spanish waist.
Welcome to Mallorca, baby!
Until next time, Stay Golden
x
