Hey God, it’s me, Rachael… And then a major Spanish women rocking-their-shit tangent

So if you’ve read my recent posts you know that it hasn’t been easy moving to Spain. (Blaaahhh blaaah blaahhh. Woe is me.)

And a place that I have found peace and clarity in the past is through church. (I know you’re about to click out of this blog and roll your eyes at me, but whatever, I’m dabbling in religion, and I like it, sue me.) I’m sort of a beginner at the whole religious thing like I’ve said before. So I ventured further into Vera today to find the post office so that I could mail my Grandma a letter and I came across this beautiful church. The more I see of Vera the more I like it, it’s clean looking and has a more old fashioned, European feel, and sometimes I wish I would have decided to live in Vera. However, Garrucha has the beach, which I run next to most days that I can. And during the week, well, I have a lot of time, so running next to the beach like I used to at home everyday is a huge source of comfort. Anyways, I knew the church was there but I had never seen it, and I was pretty amazed. In this little town in the middle of nowhere is this big, beautiful, ancient church. I’m no religious expert but I’m pretty sure it’s Catholic, and that’s okay.

Anyways, I haven’t felt a huge presence of God in myself since I’ve been here, unfortunately, and I have kind of been struggling to find the connection within myself lately, and it’s worried me that I’ve been looking for it. I feel good when it’s there, so I want to maintain it. So as I walked up I just started feeling kind of emotional. I walked inside, and the inside was more beautiful than the outside, these people really take care of their places of worship. It had these huge, gosh, I don’t even know what to call them, shrines?? Mary, Jesus maybe, ornate statues, big arched ceilings and beautiful wooden pews. I can’t even believe I’m admitting this because this sounds so cheesy of me but I’ve been so desperate for guidance, strength, and to get back to that place of feeling grateful for my life. So I knelt down on the pew in this big empty church, tears in my eyes, and prayed to God. (Haha I swear I’m not trying to be Liz Gilbert, although she sounds pretty cool, if you’ve read Eat Pray Love I know the part you’re thinking of and the connection is not lost on me) I’m not even really sure how it went, I just remember flubbing through what I wanted, what I was looking for and then I’m pretty sure I finally remembered to say thank you after feeling guilty for being so selfish and asking for so much.


Help me I’m poor.

I love to read YogaGirl’s mantras on instagram, and she always says, ‘repeat the holiest of mantras: “thank you, thank you, thank you”’. At this moment and in moments past here so far I haven’t always felt like saying thank you thank you, sometimes it’s more like why why? But I know I need to be grateful. I know that I can go home at any minute if I really want to. But I am going to stick it out. I know it’s tough now but it’ll get better. And it actually has. I was happy to come home last night to Garrucha. Like I mentioned earlier. And today I told myself (after looking wide-eyed at my bank account, money goes fast when you move to another country apparently) I wasn’t going to eat out so much. Sometimes it’s just the only thing to do at night! Almost every night my roommate and I get tapas and a beer or two.


Because, what else is there to do?? But I need to get back on track health wise (I think I inhaled 3 weeks worth of food and booze in this 3 day weekend).

I know that I am happier and feel better when I take care of myself. I respect my body and my soul and as stupid as it probably sounds I want to take care of myself. I want to live a long healthy life so I can be around for my kids and be a good partner for as long as possible. I have good genes, from what I can tell so far, and I plan on not fucking those up. Plus, I have a lot of thoughts (GEE YA THINK!?) and sometimes I get in my head too much as I’m sure we all do, and when I run and eat well, my thoughts are healthier also.

I have to touch on this other subject. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I’ll talk about it either, I love the way Spanish women dress and carry themselves. Spanish women own their femininity and they walk proud. When you get old here you don’t have to hide yourself, you can still wear high heels, wedges, and pretty dresses. Whether you are young or old you still comb your hair and match your outfit.

Spanish women take pride in their appearance. Unlike how whole American rich-homeless chic thing. It’s like someone went, I want to look filthy rich, but like I haven’t been home in three days and just rolled outta bed. Which I get, fashion is fashion, but instead of trying so hard to make it look like you’re NOT trying so hard, Spanish women actually like to look like they put some effort in, and they own it. This one mom today was wearing short shorts and boots up to her knees and she just sauntered up to school like no big deal to pick up her kid. She wasn’t pulling at her shorts like she wasn’t sure if they were a good idea or not. She knew she looked good!

In America girls would be like, what a whore. But it’s not like that here. They embrace their sexuality and it’s a good thing. I appreciate that. At home sometimes I’d feel self-conscious if I decided to wear something sexy. And I hated that. I want to celebrate what I like about myself. I always felt like I’d be judged, I’d even downplay my boobs. Here I could wear a low cut shirt or a skirt and nobody cares, nobody even really looks, because it’s not a big deal. So, cheers to Spanish women!! By the time I leave hope I’ve adopted their own-their-shit mentality.

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