Valencia (like the Oranges)

What a crazy weekend! I don’t imagine I’ll be able to tell about it all in one fell swoop, which probably means the story will never be told in a public forum.

So, last weekend I ended up going to Spain, with about a week’s notice. (As an aside, because I wasn’t able to check my email for the three days before I went I didn’t end up telling anyone before I left... Sorry about the mix up, mom and dad!). It was great. We went to Valencia, and the first night we just got in, looked around the Hostel, and went out for Kebab. That still kept us busy until 1:30 am, but it didn't feel like much. I then had the third longest night of my life (the first being a night on my mission when I slept on a cold, hard, stone floor between two Elder's beds, didn't sleep a wink, and ended up getting up at 4:30am to read the scriptures in the Lerida piso that wasn't adequately cleaned or deodorized, to say the least. The second longest night of my sleep was with my parents on their floor right after I found out that I had back problems...). The other blokes got in at about 2am, and stripped off their clothes and talked till goodness only knows when. Then one of them snored for a while, so I tried sleeping anyway, but it didn't work. I ended up throwing a penny at him to get him to wake up, so when that didn't work I gave up and listened to Enya on my iPod... I'll have to write more later. I'm running out of time.

This post has hardly anything to do with my trip at all, I've just realized. I have received a few comments (both through the posts and also through other means) which I have found encouraging, as to my style of writing. Those who have chanced to speak with me know that I write almost exactly how I write, but I think it's terribly fun to write these posts. I could see writing something a bit more... substantive, so long as it doesn't become boring. Just a thought. Don't worry, you'll know about it here long before it ever happens. Then you can say you knew me way back when... :)

I am also reading Founding Brothers, which has led me to wonder about our times, and about our world. While I don’t support everything that all of the Founding Fathers did in their lives, I have increasingly found them to be some of my greatest heroes. Admittedly, I will never look up to Jefferson (despite both carrying my name and being greater than me in stature), who was disloyal, unprincipled, and an unabashed political chameleon, following whatever maxim best suited him in the instant. While politically savvy, it repulses me to think of it. I much prefer the Washingtons and Hamiltons who fought for what they believed in, were fiercely loyal to cause and to their friends, and who gave their life for their cause. I have decided that I will have copies of the Peale paintings of each W and H placed in my home someday. I greatly admire and respect them both.

Adams was a different beast. While I look up to him (I can imagine that he and I would have been friends, save I inadvertently bring his wrath down upon myself), he was quick to anger, and not nearly as pragmatic as I would like to be. I am deeply jealous, however, of his beloved Abigail, in whom he confided and shared his life’s adventure. I would have such a woman, who would traverse life’s many tempests with me and ever converse and freely share bread and banter.