21/2, 11:03AM
I step into the water and take a deep breath. My toes are the only part of me that are underwater, but the chill quickly works its way upwards. With every step I take, I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth – just like they teach you in meditation. This is meditation.
Past attempts at mindfulness always proved me too impatient and chaotic, ending in frustration. No matter how hard I tried to let go of everything, clear my mind, my thoughts would scatter in every direction. But here, as I go deeper in the cold water, all I can focus on is the slow adjustment of my skin to the cold temperature.
When I am up to my thighs, I figure it best to rip the bandage off and go head-under. A couple more deep breaths. I press my wet hands against my dry skin, preparing myself for the shock that is to come.
Breath in. Breath out. Under.
A tiny squeak escapes my mind, but when I surface, my body has adapted to the cold already. I can’t help laughing – not like a maniac or anything (at least I hope so). Just a scoff, a happy one, if that’s a thing. Is that a thing?
As far as I can see around me, no one else is in the water. There’s a boat in the distance and then a little girl walking along the beach with her mom, occasionally letting the ocean swallow her feet. The water is so clear I can see my whole body. I feel like I’m taking a huge bath.
By now, the water actually feels warm. I start swimming.
This morning, I could barely get out of bed – no energy, no reason to move. Right now, in the ocean with the sun on my face and a horizon stretching endlessly before me, I can only think, I am so lucky.
When I wrote that in my journal, the sun was beating down on my skin. A few hours later, I checked the mirror—and my entire body (and I mean all of it) was bright red…
Since then, I’ve done my ocean meditation five more times, and I hope to keep this ritual going for the rest of my stay (without getting burnt every time).
From Job Search to Tray Mastery
The rest of my time is mostly spent in the Spanish Bar. Contrary to its name, it is actually more of a restaurant. The place is cozy and fits around 30 people inside and another 15 in the courtyard (which you can only get to by walking around the building).
I figured that since I am here for a little bit and have been spending more than I planned to, I wanted to get some of that money back. A couple of weeks ago, I posted in one of those local Facebook groups, saying I was looking for a short-term job, and Adriano texted me a little later that I was welcome in the bar.
After a one hour trial shift, he told me the job was mine if I wanted it. After four years of working in hospitality in my dad’s restaurant, I can say I’ve picked up a thing or two. My dad has been a bartender his whole life – I’m convinced he was tapping beer before he could walk. So, I often joke that I, too, was born and raised behind the bar. The funny thing is, that when I started working with my dad, I lacked his confidence and carrying a tray was my biggest fear. After a while, I got comfortable behind the bar, but walking around with a full tray scared me until the day I quit a couple of months ago. However, I do like to brag about my dad and how he trained me well. When I saw that in the Spanish Bar no one used the one tray that they own, I had to step in and show them how it’s done. Two weeks in, I might as well write my name on the tray – I’m still the only person using it. I would lie if I said I don’t secretly enjoy the look on their faces when I carry a heavy tray on my right hand and more plates in my left.
The Beer Situation…
My job is mostly at the front. I welcome the people, take their orders, serve them… But occasionally, I get behind the bar too. The coffees I am still learning how to make – apparently, a cappuccino here is made with chocolate! And every time a beer is ordered, my Belgian heart breaks a little. For starters, they only have two beers: a light one and a normal one. There’s a tap, but there’s no keg connected to it. The menu still lists draft beer though, and this is where things get truly horrifying. Instead of actually tapping the beer, they just… pour it from bottles. Yes, that’s plural!!! The bottles are 33cl, but the menu lists three sizes: 300ml, 400ml or a pint. They pour the remainder of one bottle, top it off with a new one, and, if needed, add a splash from yet another—again leaving a half-used bottle for the next poor soul. It’s painful to watch.
Chaos and Colleagues
For such a small place, they have a lot of employees. Some days, there are six of us working at the same time. Without a proper system, it turns chaotic really quickly when it gets busy. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me, and I actually enjoy my shifts. They’re often short—once, I only worked two and a half hours—and sometimes, there’s just one table in an entire hour. But when there’s actual work to do, it’s fun.
As with any job, coworkers make all the difference, and I get along with all of them. Thinking about it now, it’s crazy how much my social skills have grown over the last two or three years. If you’d asked anyone who knew me at 15, they’d tell you I was usually tucked away with a book, treating conversation like a task rather than something enjoyable.
I am very busy trying to figure out the print-situation, but I hope to be able to publish some images soon!
Besides that, I want to make the blog more consistent. Posting consistently is difficult for me, there’s not always as much happening, so I’m not sure how I’ll do that. The content and style of my posts haven’t been very continuous and I want that to change.
I am trying to focus on SEO now too, so let’s see where that brings us! :p
-Cels
CelsAway 
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