Cuernavaca, I realized, walking across the bridge with my fabulous black leather bag with the black leather fringe, was a fantasy. I knew that I loved it — we vibed immediately — and I knew that I never wanted to ever lose the dreamy feeling I had looking at the pastel buildings, the wonderfully old Spanish palace with a Starbucks hovering nearby, the cactuses with their flesh etched and scarred with lovers’ initials, the glorious hills, the sky, the flowers, those whitewashed walls that reflected the brilliant light, that perfect eternal second standing in the Museo Robert Brady, oh just all of it. It’s divine!
It’s cruel that life is so short. One hundred years is hardly enough time to make a dent on our interests. I know that there are some people who think that life is too long and depressing and awful, but I have always loved living.
If you’ve read more than one of these blog posts you’ll know my deep and true desire to be a hay farmer in rural Romania. (Don’t worry, there’s more on that coming up!) Oh there would be nothing more joyful than baling hay all day and thinking of nothing but hay. Hay, hay, hay! It’s not to be, but one of these summers I swear to you I’ll vanish into the night, turn up in Brașov, and then make my way to the countryside to train as a hay farmer. I’m quite serious.
I have never taken classes during the summer before, and they have taken up a lot of my time. If you’re in need of reading material while I work on the usual blogs, please enjoy the research paper that I spent the past few weeks furiously researching. I’m rather proud of it. Hopefully you have an interest in the connections between modern English and ancient Egyptian vocabulary!