Four Long Days

Going to Naples the weekend and Paris the weekend before that, I was getting bit stressed out going into this weekend excursion I had planned with Cristina to her home town in Girona. While another weekend without studying didn't exactly help my midterm scores, at the very least it was the most relaxing mini-vacation I've had in a while. After listening to me ramble on and on about Paris and Naples Cristina was eager to prove how great her region, so she went to ridiculous lengths to organize our weekend together. All I really had to do was show my appreciation, help her cook a little bit and convince her that I'm not going to move to Italy anytime soon. It's funny to think about, but she legitimately wanted me to enjoy myself more in Girona so I might eventually want to live there with her, and she would rather I don't learn any Italian because I'll be less motivated to learn Catalan. She's become incredibly attached to me in rather short period of time, and of course that's both really amazing to me and a little frightening. I've had a few scattered relationships since I began traveling, but none quite this serious or committed, and having a weekend to spend together just solidified how close we've become.




We stayed in her mom's spacious, immaculate house, though we never saw any light of her, as Cristina had planned. Her parents are divorced, and though her dad gave us a ride to the house, Cristina didn't even introduce us because she has a rather shaky relationship with him. Her mom, on the other hand, is like her best friend, so I know meeting her will have to be a pretty big deal. I'm looking forward to meeting her sometime - it sounds like she's where Cristina got her feisty attitude - but I was thankful to avoid seeing her quite so soon. I did get to see a good deal of where Cristina spent her childhood, though, which I could tell was a pretty important and sensitive moment for her. It reminded me of that scene in Annie Hall when Woody Allen and Dianne Keaton are looking at each other in different stages of their youth and making wry comments about how different they were. It's always strange revisiting places from your childhood and trying to gauge whether it's you or the place that has changed so much, and it was flattering to me that Cristina would have me along for that. Walking down those sleepy suburban streets and seeing the kids playing in her old elementary school, I could see her having the same sheltered and confusing childhood that I had in America. In that moment of shared emotional baggage, I felt what few cultural differences there might be between us fade a little bit.