I can´t even begin to describe how emotional I have felt during the past three and a half weeks. I was a bit nervous about a visit to Texas in August, wondering how it would feel to see family and friends after a six month break. Finally the day came where I found myself first riding in a taxi to the Valencia airport at 5 in the morning, then trying to wait out a really long layover in Paris, then eventually landing in Houston and clearing customs, and finally rolling into Dallas, where my parents and Uncle Bob met me at the baggage claim. Yes, I was glad to be back in town, but how long would that feeling last, I wondered? Two days, maybe a week?
As it turned out, I can’t think of any place that I rather would have gone for a my summer vacation. OK, maybe Dallas itself wasn’t the best location. Dallas still seems like a lost city that doesn’t know how to find it’s identity. Irving is still a shithole, and Frisco is still thousands of miles away from the Old Monk. I won’t even mention Plano. But, as I drove around the city, visiting my parents house, seeing friends, going to dinner, it felt really good to go back to my hometown, though, as Joe Jackson sings, “I know it will never be the same.”
I hummed that song to myself early Saturday morning after my arrival late the night before. I woke up way early, thanks to jet lag, and by 10am or so, had already done a bunch of shopping, bought a cell phone, purchased some new soccer gear, and then decided to work out my jet lag over a few pints in the Old Monk. Talk about a homecoming: Miriana gave me a big welcome, then Riley and Mike greeted me, and I found myself repeatedly saying, “I’m really glad to be here.”
That was the start of three very rushed weeks, and now, the day after I’ve returned to Spain, it’s just an incredible blur, albeit a blur with many great moments. Thanks to everyone who was able to come out for a beer, maybe two. It meant a lot just to see everyone, even for such a short time. Yes, I missed seeing some of you, and I am truly sorry, but look forward to the next opportunity. I realize that everyone’s life continues to be busy as mine is, so I’m very glad (not to mention surprised) that I got to spend as much time as I did with so many people.
How nice it was to muck around in some of my favorite haunts and see familiar faces, and even meet a couple of new friends. I particularly owe a big thanks to the Old Monk and Idlerich for hosting much of my time, but the Dub and Trinity Hall certainly deserve nods, as well.
During the last couple of days of my trip, I was still saying, “I am glad to be here,” which, to be honest, was a bit of a surprise. It’s a really strange place to be, that place where you’re having a really good time but about to go home, anyway. Thus, it seemed fitting to me to close out my time in Dallas having a few pints at the Monk, just like when I arrived. I find the finality of finishing your glass, snuffing the cig, shaking hands, giving hugs, saying farewell, and hopefully remembering to pay the tab sort of works well for me.
So, I arrived back in Valencia last night, and woke up this morning in a bit of a fog, but with a huge smile on my face. You see, I’m glad to be back here, too. Round two of the Bryan takes on Europe show is starting right about now, and I’m off to a pretty good start. I’ve somehow managed to remember a little Spanish, though I had one conversation today that went ok even though I didn’t completely know what we were talking about. The tobacco salesman greeted me with a smile, and in the grocery store I saw several people I know who all said how glad they were that I was back in town. It’s good to be back.
Since this little piece seems more like liner notes of a CD than anything else, I’ll take the opportunity to thank: JPS for selling ciggy (I was getting really tired of reds), Air France for showing cool movies on the plane (and for friendly attractive staff), Greenhill school for having girls field hockey practice on a Friday afternoon, FSC, Fullers, Stella, that gay guy who threw peppermints at us while walking down the hall at Terrilli’s, Doc Marten, margaritas in general, the compliment of being described as Dicky Barrett (I may actually wear boots, shorts and a tie around Valencia sometime), and finally, a special thank you to little Goliad.
Thanks again for such a nice August
keep the faith
bryan
30/8/06
casa de tomas trenor
