So… I moved to Argentina

Last January I started a 12 month round-the-world journey. This January I moved to Buenos Aires. The other major life event which fits neatly equidistant between these two happenings was when I fell in love…in Colombia…with Bronson, my poetic, gorgeous soul mate. He said, “I’m going to live in Buenos Aires next year.” I said, “I don’t know where I’m going to be living, maybe Spain.” Pause. “Or can I come to Buenos Aires?”

Oh whoops I just knocked over my glass of wine.

Right, back.

And then I became a teacher. Ah, an English Language teacher like all the rest of the Brits abroad! (I hear you think). Oh no, that would be way too obvious, especially since I just did a CELTA. Can you guess where I was on the first Monday morning after the course? Um, teaching English Literature to 28 kids in an international school. That’s right, literature. An Inspector Calls with a bunch of English-second-language 12 year olds. I teach 8-13 year olds English Literature which is fine when they are engaged, but a nightmare when a cute little 9 year old is asking you a question. She’s taking ages, and ages and looking at the ceiling as if the English words will come like manna from heaven and meanwhile the class is getting noisier and noisier…

The work load during both the course and this first month of teaching has been mental. Couple that with the earth juddering upheaval of moving to a new country, communicating daily in broken Spanish (think jagged shards of broken) and Bronson and I going from three and a half months apart to living together, and there hasn’t been much time for creativity. However I got out the pen tonight and sloshed it around with some ink. That inspired me to get back to my blog. I’ve fed a part of me tonight that hadn’t been nurtured for a long time and it feels SO good. I’ve stoked my soul and I’m happy.

I know this sounds weird, but the rose was on the page before I drew it. It was imprinted on the paper as if I’d drawn it before and torn out the page.

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