Farewell to Friends

It’s been some time since I last wrote an entry.   I have been busy with work in my internship that is now coming to a close after a year commitment.

I have been working in Spain with TLC Internationl’s “Edge Project” A non profit that brings individuals to the Edge of the Mediterranean to live in community and go a bit deeper in learning about the God of their youth, and the impact that faith has on art in cultures that believe little of God.

photo 4

Most of the team has now left us, which is one reason why I have some time to write I suppose. We just saw two our “eddgies” off this morning to the bus stop. And my friend Matt left last night around midnight. The community we have been living in has brought us very close which makes leaving very hard.

Here ‘s some pics of Mustache Monday…. The girls even joined in

Join alone side,and support Sean

God’s promise and The Great Adventure

Just the other day, I (Sean) was standing by the water before the sun was going down. I had this song playing in my mind. I was quietly singing a part of the song, “wash me, white as snow,” and as the words started to float in my mind, the rain softly began to fall.  I couldn’t hold back a smile.  There was still a bright light from the sun as it was starting to dip behind the buildings and at that moment, I turned around to see the most beautiful rainbow over the Mediterranean.  It was full and perfect, and even had an accomplice, like an encore, a second rainbow that sang in with a light accompaniment.

It is an amazing fact that the elements for a rainbow are always there; we just can’t always see them.  A rainbow is also a promise from God, and similarly, His promises are there even though we have forgotten, or just don’t see them.

Imagine if we believed that every magical moment of everyday was just for us?

Beyond the theories of science lies the truth in Love.
 That which is unseen, goes beyond living and dying. It is not limited to the laws of thermodynamics. It doesn’t burn out, it doesn’t go extinct; it is eternal.  The visible is merely a compass pointing to the invisible… so that men are without excuse of what lies unseen and waits to be discovered.

God is the greatest adventure.  Seeking after his mysteries is the most wonderful journey leading me to receive the truth of how loved we are!

What if every magical moment of everyday WAS just for us?

Listen to song:   http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/s/White+As+Snow/2wSRWF

Santander Spain

After teaching a small improv workshop in the town of Albir just south of Altea, my friend Omar and I drove to Alicante, the largest city in the area.

I must thank my friend Omar. He not only has taken me to and from the airport, but he has also been my point of contact when I’ve been in a pickel. Thank you Omar, you have some of the greatest qualities a friend can possess. There is much for me to be thankful for here in Spain. Clearly, you are one of the blessings I am grateful for. Thank you!

I was flying to Santander to be with a group of students in their early 20′s in this discipleship-training program. One of our interns for the summer Edge Project has been there for a few months. I went to be of what service I may, offer some positivity and teach some improvisation.

I have been here in Santander for several days now. The group of students here has formed a band and will perform a concert at a church some two hours ride north (I believe.) I have been asked to videotape the performance. Their videographer is also the keyboard player and can’t do both:)

It’s nice here. The sky reminds me of home. And the family I stay with makes me feel like I’m in the states (they’re from Washington and California, and Chicago) until I walk out the door and hear the chatter of neighbors speaking words I don’t know. I still understand facial expressions and gestures with hands. I still enjoy laughter and can read smiles. Many things are different but many things are the same. I feel my American eyes have changed, and I can feel when something new forces me to change they way I think. It normally doesn’t go without a fight of my stubborn self. But, after a weighing of sober judgment, I can choose what is good. I can see what is best for the people here–not always, but I’m still learning. I realize I’m not here to change people to think like me, or to say, “you should do it this way, it’s what we do in America,” rather, to understand how they think so I can communicate, relate, and converse.
I have a disadvantage and an advantage. My disadvantage is obvious with the language, but I’m learning, and same goes for the history of Spain. I’m learning more and more each day. And the more we learn of history, the more we can see why we are the way we are. It gives me much more understanding. I feel as though each new fact equips me with more understanding of the shoes that people walk in, and I like that. I have grown to love understanding people. I am in love with their story. I am growing more in love with God through all of this—the people, the places, and the heart beat of it all. Someone once said, “We should live out our life as a masterpiece”. Not only is it a joy to create, but is a pleasure to see. I think that’s what a masterpiece is. That’s how our lives should be.

So far so good.

My Last three Days in Spain

The summer nights in Altea are rich with the smell of good food, the sound of music, and the air of romance.

As I write, I hear the longing cry of an accordion being assisted with the gentle shake of a tambourine.  The hint of good cooking in the open air restaurants below my terrace is enough to tempt tourists to fill the seats at the candle lit table tops .  Tomorrow morning I leave for Edinburgh.  I am now saying goodbye to the warm air of the Spanish summer.  I’m sure I will encounter culture shock as I leave this beauty behind.  But I’m sure another awaits.  I talked briefly about Edinburgh with the Randall’s, my host family in England. They had nothing but great things to say about the place.

The last 3 days after the Edge Project have been much needed. One entire day I spent alone, exploring caverns in the hillside near the light house a brisk bike ride away.  After locking the bike and heading down the dirt trail, I realized at one point on my walk that I could not remember the last time I felt so healthy–mentally, physically, and Spiritually. I don’t know why, but I hiked the cliffs of the lighthouse with just flip flops.  Ill equipped I know, and the next day my legs and feet would be sore.  I walked up to the mouth of this large cave-like opening.  It reminded me of the cliff-dwelling Indians in the southwestern United States that built there homes into the cliff.  No adobe or clay structures were erected here.  Just spray paint and defaced stalagmites.  I explored the cave with a child-like curiosity. I felt like Tom Sawyer waiting for “Engine Joe” to spring at me from any minute, and I was prepared with my walking stick (an unearthed tree root).  I became startled by a bird that flapped out of the mouth of the cave.  It smelt damp, and in the stillness you could hear the dripping of water from the ceiling of the cave.  I climbed over a stalagmite that inched its way skyward.  Different colors of green and brown made for an almost eerie stir of a glass-like stone.  The cave was crafted through years of gentle drips. The dark places still somehow held a peace.  I climbed up and over what seemed to be a throne from some lord of the underworld.  I felt as if I was among the ancient ruins of a  primitive race of people that lived in peace among bats and darkness.  It seemed like a good place to rest.  It was cool in the shade.  I sat on a white and yellow striped beach towel and read myself in and out of rest.

It was a day spent exploring my surroundings and thinking through my experiences over the summer, both within my community and the Edge Project.  I also had many things to take to prayer about what laid ahead.

I am so grateful and amazed at how God has brought me here in the first place.  And how even in a cave with dark places, I can explore it like a child being free from fear.  I can love God and learn more about how He is shaping me into the man He has designed me to be.  I am learning to be led by a presence unseen, to listen to a voice that often can’t be heard, and to allow my mind to accept those things which I haven’t even perceived for myself yet.

That night I camped on the beach with some friends.  We didn’t talk much that I remembered, just closed our eyes on the stars that stared down at us, and let the sound of the small waves lull us to sleep.  I woke up to the sun already about an inch above the Calpe hills, and the familiar sound of waves.  It was like a greeting from a good friend. One more day left before I leave this place.

I thank God for it.

All of it.

Life can be a mess. Grab a brush.

Ryan A., Owen, Ryan G, and I did our best to clean up some of the graffiti that the youth had sprayed at the prayer tower.  A little paint thinner, some elbow grease, and a good attitude can change the way a town looks.  When these youth see it again, and see the beauty underneath their spray paint, perhaps they will think twice about tagging it. Then again, that could be wishful thinking. Maybe they will spray it again. Life can be a mess.  Grab the brush, go to town.  Who knows who is watching you, and would want to join in.  Maybe no one sees you.  Then who gets the glory for the work you do?

You’re work will be there, and one way or another you making an effect.

click here for story of what we cleaned.

Happy 25th Birthday Ryan Aldaco!

This day in history 25 years ago, Ryan Aldaco was brought into the world.  And today he makes the Spanish shore line a bit lighter as we celebrate his birthday.

In the short time that I have grown to know Ryan, I have not seen him as someone who complains.  He’s a deep soul that has a great way of seeing God’s beauty in the simple.

A couple of days ago I followed Ryan’s lead as he climbed up onto a wall that separated the Mediterranean sea with the port in Altea.  Our group of summer edge students walked just bellow.  We came to a point where all of the “Edgies” had to get up onto the wall and Ryan lent a hand to help everyone up.  I have had the privilege of watching Ryan interact with the students in the edge program, as well as the locals in Altea, meeting them at their level.

Ryan isn’t someone I would say is quick to judge.  God made him in a way that he can approach all types of people and be cool as a cucumber.

I’ve watched him deliver his skill onto the soccer/futbol field–his ability doesn’t out way his modesty.  Which makes him the finest of athletes, those with the greatest of sportsmanship.  The type that children watch, admire, and want to be like. He will deny these remarks because he is so modest.  And would say that he is out of shape. He is not out of shape.

I’ve learned a lot from watching Ryan.  His heart is often in the best of places and his humor comes out when you least expect it.

Ryan’s explosive and sudden laughter can raise the  awareness of an entire city block.  Turning heads, or should I say “cashing checks and snapping necks”

I’ve enjoyed the “party waves”–waves that everyone gets to body surf.

I’ve enjoyed “Bob” the guy who isn’t there that Ryan talks to, someone I feel I’m starting to understand.   I think I can feel him standing behind me.  Bob is that you? or is that Ryan? Are they the same person?

Because of Ryan, I have grown a strong appreciation for “Pizza 4 U” the best Pizza I’ve had in Spain.

Because of Ryan I’ve had courage to swim to the rocks.

Because of Ryan, I knock before entering his room.  Ha ha.

Because of Ryan, I am more brave when speaking Spanish even though I know I may fail.

Because of Ryan, I got the privilege of enjoying a Spanish soccer game.

Because of Ryan, I am a little more willing to try things that may otherwise be too dangerous.

Because of Ryan, I know more notes on the guitar.

Because of Ryan, I laugh where I may otherwise be silent.

Because of Ryan, I have memories captured at Calpe y el Peñón de Ifach

Because of Ryan, I try to listen to God more in the little things.

I haven’t had a long time to get to know Ryan.  But, you really don’t need that long of time to get to know someone who you’re already familiar with.  He’s an old friend you haven’t heard from in a while, he’s one who picks you up when you’ve fallen, he’s one who prays for you when your down, or are having a hard time with decisions.  He’s someone who will honor you even in your short comings.  He’s one who lets go of past strife to give room for a better friendship, He’s one who gets caught up in a good laugh and he’s one of God’s children.  Ryan is my brother in Christ.

I’m happy to know you Ryan Aldaco.  Happy 25th Birthday.  May it be one you will always remember.  And know that the world is a little different, and a better place because of you.

May God bless you and keep you, and continue to work in your life in great ways.

Your Friend.

Your brother in Christ.

Sean

I leave you with a couple images in action to show you the man Ryan is.

Helping up a Spanish football player after cashing some checks.

No poker face here on the top of the world... "edge" of the world in calpe. Okay and we could hear "poker face" playing.

The smile that makes even angels happy.

An athlete... "The type that children watch, admire, and want to be like."

The Stars over Calpe

Last night the lot of us Edgies went to a dinner party up in the hills of Altea.  There, our wonderful hosts played music put out food, played games, and enjoyed conversation.  I drifted from outside through the open patio doors and into the living room.  My ears enjoyed the comfortable hum of conversation in different languages and laughter. Some people engaged in cards or chess, while others sat on the edge of furniture and talked.  French, Spanish, and English were the main languages spoken, and it was interesting and fascinating to hear one person switch from one tongue to the next.  The house was beautiful and sat high up on the large hill of Altea.  From the bottom of the hill at night, it’s a zig zag of warm lights like glowing gems set in the hill to mark where neighbors lived.  It was on that hill with the sparkling lights that I enjoyed my night swim to the Island–I never thought that I would be up on that hill in 3 weeks time observing the view from above.  We had four cars that drove all of us to the top.

On the way back  down after the party, I road with Omar, who is a Dutch Egyptian living in Spain, and one of the most giving people we have met here.  He reminds me of my best of friends back home.  Omar doesn’t believe in God like the rest of us, yet it’s impossible to not see God working through him.

He has been a blessing to each of us in different ways. And this night he took myself and two others to watch the stars that hung over Calpe, his home town.  We lied on our backs on the dirt road and watched the sky in silence.  The simplicity of being still spoke into my very soul.

That night, I saw a star explode. I couldn’t believe it!  I laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing because I knew I was unable to comprehend what I just saw.  Everyone else started laughing as hard as I was, probably because it was a ridiculous reaction to something so amazing.  But  I never experienced anything like that.  And what else could I have done?  And how amazing, totally amazing, the thought, the sight, and the fact that I just saw something in just a moment that most people NEVER get to see.  I may never get to see something like that again.

The Star, for a moment was the biggest flash we could see from earth, and the next moment…gone.  Only two of us saw it, and Omar and Amzee tried to convince us that we didn’t see it. Or at least that Colleen didn’t.  If Colleen and I listened to them long enough we may have started to believe them.

Looking up at the stars you feel so small.  ” I almost feel dizzy looking up.” Amzee Said.   “It’s because your eyes aren’t used to focusing on something so far away” Omar replied.

It’s amazing that our eyes can even see that far, that we can see the stars that are millions of light years away.  And that a comet burning throughout the sky doesn’t destroy our retinas at the very sight of it.

I’m so glad Omar brought us up there.  “This is one of the best nights I had in a long time” Omar said, I agreed, I think we all did.  And we were not even doing anything, but being still.

We were all in awe of a sight we didn’t fully understand.

I think that God likes us to be in awe of him, that’s why he does wonderful things that surprise us, and make us ask “How can that be?”  I feel more alive when I’m in awe of God, it makes everything much more rich.  It makes everything special, it makes the simplest of things a miracle.  When I’m in awe of God, I’m thankful for even the breath in my lungs, and the beat of my heart, all the while not being conscience of it.  Just knowing it’s happening, something has set everything in motion, and I simply…am.  I simply get to live.  This is a gift from God.  All of the sudden no stage performance I ever  do could match for a night of looking at the stars.  There was no where else I wanted to be.  I could have died happy.

This night will go down as one of the best nights in Spain.

And where ever I am, so are the stars.  And where ever I am, so is God.

“He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name.”

Great is our Lord and mighty in power;
his understanding has no limit.

Psalm 147: 4-5

I don’t know all of the constellations, and know next to nothing of the workings of the universe.  Yet I know that I love what was there that night.  The same goes with God.

Oh, the Spanish late nights.

Understanding the culture of Spain: From an American perspective, it’s quite different. In fact, coming from were I was 4 weeks ago, I didn’t understand why Spaniards live the way they do. Now I understand and am enjoying the way they do things. I understand that we, as Americans, see things differently. That’s okay so long as we meet them were they are, and do not try to change their way of life.

Our mission work…. well, it’s more like discipleship training. We are not building homes, or schools or churches for people to dwell in. Instead, what may be happening here is the building up of the people themselves. We are sharpening, encouraging, and being healing hands for one another.

I heard the other day about a law here in Spain. The law states that a building in construction will not be taxed until the outside of the building is completed. Needless to say in this economy, a lot of the buildings are incomplete. They are inhabited, they are occupied, but they are unfinished. And so, why would the owners want them to be completed if it will be taxed?  We are not here to fix this town on the outside, but to be among the people from with in.

The people here in Spain stay out late.  Very late compared to us in the States.  From ages 16- 40 (give or take a year or so) they will stay out easily until 4 or 4:30 am, and that’s not that late to the Spanish of this age.  But in the States, that’s a bad hour, nothing good happens after midnight.  What should we (as Americans) do then?  Go to bed at 11 or midnight because that’s what they do in America?  No way!  If we did, we would miss out on the time we could spend meeting and hanging out with new friends.  Not everyone thinks the way we do.  It’s weird at first, but so is a sea that has no waves (the Mediterranean)–you get used to it.   You enjoy it for what it is.  You swim whether there are waves or not.

Some say you may be at risk of compromising truth or faith to fit in with the culture.   I agree, compromising truth is wrong.  Way wrong!  Out here, under the Spanish sky we are simply trying to be imitators of Paul and Christ.  As Arianna would say, “Jesus was the greatest cross-cultural worker.”  He spoke the language, he met the people where they were.  He didn’t stop at the actions of the individual’s past, he wasn’t the first one to throw the stone.  In fact he was the one who created the truest definition of grace.

We take our light into the night here, whether it be dark noon (midnight)or 4:30am.  We can invite God to be with us on a dance floor–and I have.   If art is an expression of creativity, and creativity is the natural result of spirituality, then I can literally be spiritual in all the art I make while connected to the spirit.

That means that wherever we are, even if in a muggy dance club pounding Michael Jackson music, God can be there.

“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?”

-David, a man after Gods own heart.

David wrote this Psalm about such a topic.

____________________________________

Psalm 139

¹O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. ²Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. ³Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. ⁴For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether. ⁵Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. ⁶Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. ⁷Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? ⁸If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. ⁹If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; ¹⁰Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. ¹¹If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. ¹²Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

____________________________________

It’s amazing at what you can be thankful for when your dancing.  The ability to move alone is a blessing.

I want to keep the Spirit alive… so, what do I do?  After further question and investigation I found that there is a reason they stay out so late.  The answer… Siesta! The Spanish take a siesta after they go home to their families for lunch.  What a blessing!  to go home to your family, have lunch, catch a cat nap at the hottest part of the day, and then go back to work in the cooler part of the evening is awesome.  But wait, now after work, we need a little time to cut loose, and hey, we just had a nap, so we are still pretty charged.  Let’s go out, have some tapas, and perhaps dance.  It’s their way of life, like coming home to dinner and perhaps an episode of Lost.  It’s the culture.

Jesus drank wine with meals as they do here.  He sat and ate with people that, through the eyes of man, he should not have been sitting with.  But he did.   He made contact with the untouchables and eat meals with the ungodly.  He made them feel like they were accepted.  Imagine how you would feel known as detestable, but found at a dinner table with the creator of the universe.  From the eyes of man, looking from the outside it looked much different.  In the book of Matthew it says,  “The Son of man came eating and drinking, and they say, Behold a man gluttonous, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners.”  They called Jesus a winebibber and a glutton because of what they thought their eyes were seeing.

“they may be ever seeing but never perceiving,
and ever hearing but never understanding…”

As followers of Christ, we should eat and drink with the untouchables like Christ did, and pray for those brothers and sisters who do the same.  Perhaps some of us know what its like to be an untouchable, or detestable.  A place at the table can change a life forever.

My hope is for all who read this to be rich in grace toward others as Christ is rich in grace toward you.

cultural invasion of self

In a few moments I will be attending a meeting for the interns here on the Edge project. This trip has been a living experience and a cultural invasion of self.  Which is a healthy and hard pill to swallow. The Spanish life style is much more layed back then what I am used to in the ‘stop and go’ life of Southern California. Things are beautiful here, there is an ugly side however and I feel I am just starting to see the shaded side. Will I see it completely for what it is? I don’t know, perhaps not. I am surrounded by a community of others much like me from the comforts of SO CAL, yet we are much different and emerged not only in a new world, but in each others, learning to adapt in both has been a constant awakening.  We are learning much about each other, and our new surroundings.  We are learning about each other, community, and The culture of our group as well, as that of Altea.

Often times I feel like we want to make so much of a difference in the world around us.  And sometimes the best place to start is with the man in the mirror.

The way to Spain

Isaac, Natalie and I sat at a little coffee shop in the Manchester airport.  We drank some hot drinks just a few minutes before we had to move along.  We laughed with hysterics with a dose of the early morning deliriousness, in between nose honks of our allergy filled tissues.  I was in tears reliving inside jokes and enjoying each others company . It was a great a joyful departure.  We were saddened to go our own ways, but grateful that we would see each other again in two months time.

Through security, and into the consumers playground of magazines, duty free alcohol, and bad coffee It had a smell in the air like you get around the Christmas season for shopping.  I forged through the peak season of touristic  people getting ready for summer holiday.  It wasn’t even 7am yet there was a group of about 50 guys being quite loud at the bar, I wouldn’t realize until after I boarded, that there “party” would continue all the way to Spain.

At my gate waiting to board.  I sat  alone, the sun shining down on Manchester as a father and daughter pressed there faces to the glass eying in amazement at the power and miraculous ability for humans to fly.

I sat there watching, and remembered my father, and how fun it was to share moments such as this.  My train of thought was interrupted with a slight feeling of horror, when I realized I forgot my poster tube of my stencils.  I had it with me just a few minutes ago.  Having plenty of time I hoofed it back to security.  I rounded a corner and aproached the archway I had to go through.  A sign stared down at me “No entry”.  “But that’s exactly were I had to go” I thought.  Exactly were I needed to go, I looked around… No one.  No cameras seemed to be ready to tale tell on me, so… acting very cool, as if I had done this a thousand times, I walked through the “No Entry zone” to security.  I just barely turned a corner when a women came walking right toward me.  One of the easy jet employees.  “Oh no, she’s going to stop me” I thought to myself.  She  looked at me through long eye lashes and smiled, she then walked on by.   My tube awaited me at the end of security, I picked it up and kept walking back the way I came.   I had made the pick up, and felt very cool about it.  No one noticed at all.

My plane very quickly turned into a bar like atmosphere as those 50 dudes who were throwing back beer, were now being extremely thunderous and obnoxious as we boarded.  I decided to sit far away from the group.  I sat about 7 seats back from the exit over the wings.  I did a little small talk with the guy next to me who happen to be with the group of dudes, he seemed cool enough,  I soon fell asleep.

My in-flight nap was disturbed by 3 of the dudes in the isle talking to the four dudes who were sitting next to me.  There seemed to be no escape from the blowhards, and now guys across the isle were passing back and forth a dirty magazine (best boobs of 09).  In front of these dudes was older couples family’s and kids, and they acted as if they were the only ones on the plane.  All 50 were on there way to Spain to spend holiday with there buddy who was getting married, I thought they were a team of footballers at first.  Our bachelor, or at least  I think it was our bachelor, he wore a  giant felt condom costume you might find at a cheep Halloween store that read “Royal condoms” across the chest.   He was controlling the conversation in the isle and shouting to the back of the plane to 20 some odd guys, that responded with a thunderous reply.  Condom man was king of the idiots and we were all subjects to his kingdom on this flight.  Even the flight attendants smiled on at the inappropriate comments and laughter.  One of the royal subjects, the jester no doubt had crawled across the laps of two of his friends to take a picture with a sleeping passenger, a complete stranger.  He messed with the guys long hair and shared the pic among his friends. I was tired, annoyed, and to be honest, entertained.

I was surprised I didn’t have to go through security coming off the plane, I collected my bag before it could accidentally be snatched up by drunk bachelors.  The best I could tell they were all in the service together, with similar haircuts and mass amounts of testosterone.  They looked like they were ready for a drunken time of there lives.

I exited the sliding glass doors and into a warm sunny new world…Spain!  It was the warmest I felt since California.  After exercising my first bit of Spanish, I waited for my bus.  I struck up a conversation with a lady sitting next to me.  She was from Christ Church New Zealand.  Her and I were kinda traveling buddy’s until our 35min bus ride ended and we had to go our own ways.  On the drive through the desert landscape, there lay abandoned remains of old homes, their partial walls that lay ruin became a canvas  for graffiti artists.   The Spanish seem to really take pride in there graffiti art.  It’s some of the best I’ve seen.

The next bus from the very touristy city Benidorm,  it seemed there was more English tourists then Spanish. the bus driver and i became well acquainted,  I talked to him in broken Spanish, and he seemed to appreciate my attempts.   I soon found a familiar face at my bus stop, Havilia.

I loaded up my back pack and duffel bag, Havilia carried my stencils, and we trekked the cost line toward our house.  It rested above a restaurant, that nestled between two large apartment complexes that over looked the Mediterranean.   I had no idea what beauty I would see everyday from the moment I awoke, a gorgeous view of the water from the veranda.   I would fall asleep every night with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.  A constant reminder that we are at the edge of the world here.  I wake up every morning with God’s painted sky above the most beautiful blue of waters.

I am the only male among five girls.  All of them beautiful, and I look at them as my sisters.  at one end of the veranda is a very small and very cosy glassed room.  This is were I would sleep and keep my clothes.  It reminds me of the houses in Swiss family Robinson.   We joke that Its kind of a watch tower to guard the back of the house.  The girls have told me they feel comfortable having a guy here.

Altea sunrise

I just have to look off the veranda at the view to be emotional moved by my surroundings.  The smell of the ocean, the cool breeze, and the sound of the waves. My senses are blown away. I thank God, and wonder how I got here.