Everything is jumbled together. The cultures, the traditions, my sense of direction (not that I was ever that good with directions anyway). But the most jumbled by far is the language.
Words--of two very different languages--pop into every crevice of my brain, day and night. Let me tell you, sometimes it's just a mess.
English words accidentally spill from my mouth before I can stop them, leaving my host family to stare at me blankly. Other times, my fingers rapidly spell out Spanish palabras on the smooth keyboard of my phone, and by the time I realize that the recipient doesn't speak Spanish, the blue line indicating a sent message has already zoomed across the screen.
My thoughts seem to forever lie in limbo between the two lenguas; two words in English, the next three in Spanish. A silent soliloquy in Spanish, quickly chopped up by abrupt English exclamations when I stub my toe or am caught off guard by the ice-cold morning shower water.
It's a bit frenzied; it's a bit chaotic; it's a bit messy; it's very loco. And I kind of love it.
Sometimes, I guess, you just have to step back and let the mess be; just accept the jumbled mess for what it is: bellísima.
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