Why I'm European Now

1. I only drink coffee from a french press at home (this also falls into the subcategory of why i'm hipster).

2. I have a separate toilet in my bathroom just to wash my booty if i want (and i never will, unless toilet paper becomes a precious commodity).

3. I eat dinner now between 10 and 12 and I go out at 2 a.m. Sometimes I have trouble walking in the streets at 4 a.m. because they are so crowded (although this is more a Spanish thing).

4. I lean farther to the left.

5. I speak a foreign language when I am at home and English when I'm at work.

6. I sometimes have a beer or wine with meals during the day.

7. I travel by train.

8. I lean out of my window and hang my clothes on a line.

9. I use olive oil all day/everyday.

10. I shop and eat at privately owned places more than franchises.

Viva Mexico (and other things)

ahhh Mexico, what a beautiful, dirty tramp of a country! I realized the impact that my experience there had on me the other day when I went outside of Corunya to eat at a Mexican restaurant owned by guys from D.F. (Mexico City). My previous attempt to eat Mexican a couple of weeks ago was a complete failure. It was a restaurant near the shore, across from an Indian place (nice!), that was the equivalent of Span-Mex and severely overpriced. Mierda! Twas a disappointment quickly forgotten as I stepped foot into that heavenly establishment 2 nights ago. Mexican flags, Xmas pinyatas, lucha libre masks, and indian artwork covered the place. Irene and I sat down and the waiter approached soon to ask with his tequila-smooth mexican accent what we would like to drink.

"Time for the test," I thought. "Do you have micheladas?" I asked. 

"Of course," he said through those jalepenyo-shaped lips, "regular or a la cubana?"

Oh joyous occasion! Oh spicy-hot nectar of the gods! who knew the satisfaction that beer, tomato juice, hot sauce, salt, lime, and a dash of secret sauce could bring!? The almost unbearable sting of that blessed drink that simultaneously invokes love, hate, and heart attack brought a host of memories flooding back to me. I remembered countless different benches, restaurants, conversations and good times all lasso'd around that fiery red drink. And then we ordered food...

Simple, authentic, rich and delicious. nada mas que decir. 

 after dinner we struck up conversation with the owner,  a young guy of about 30. He's a graphic designer that has lived here for 7 years, and he opened the restaurant because the Crisis has put off most graphic design work. We talked about Mexico, business, beer, and music. It was great. He made my night when he gave me a can of jalepenyos to take home because they are all but impossible to buy on the shelf here in Spain. I'll take any suggestions on what to cook with this one hit wonder that I have in my possession...

Thus ended that unexpectedly awesome night. And now Xmas vacations are upon us. Two and a half weeks of paid vacation and relaxation. I could almost get used to this semi-professional lifestyle, although that human instinct (at least i think it is) to turn and run towards seasonal work, travel, fun and self sufficiency lacking in modern world capitalist values and practices still whispers to me in the dark. 

Less then one week and I'll be in Andalusia, the synecdoche of Spain.  

Weekend Trip (cont.)

Note to reader: I embellished just for fun on the last post. There was no chase scene, the guys in the car were policemen that were curious about me because I looked suspicious. 


I called the Australian guy at about 9, after a couple of hours of walking about the shore and the old part of the city. He was a friendly-ass guy that did ask where the shit I had been, because he was prepared to get up and let me in his house at 630. We stopped by the grocery store en route to his house, bought some cereal, and had breakfast before both crashing out for another 2 hours or so. In the afternoon we went to meet a friend of his at a cool restaurant, had some pinchos (typical bar delicacies of the region) and beer, and waited for the French folk to turn up. They arrived about 45 minutes later, and it was great to see Nathalie again after our fun couple of days together in Mexico. Her b/f  was really cool, and the whole group of them were surfers and had a really good vibe. We continued to eat and chat for the rest of the afternoon and hopped in the car to cross the border to Biarritz, France.

The Basque Country is really quite unique and beautiful. The aussie, Clint, was really almost pro-separatist and schooled me on why he thought they should just be recognized as their own country. The language, Euskera, was quite strange and not related to spanish in anyway.

France was great. Nick and Nath live in the top floor of a classic French apartment building whose shutters look over the other orange shingled roofs to the Bay of Biscay with its backdrop of the Pyrenees mountains in the distance. We went to a free concert that night in the renovated stables of an old castle and I enjoyed being surrounded by all of the Frenchies that I couldn't understand. The next day, we explored the city a bit, saw the lighthouse, had fresh oysters and white wine, and hit some golf balls on a course with a view of the setting sun behind the mountains and ocean. Totally picturesque, but I didn't bring a camera. We had a dinner party that night and had cheese and grilled meats and potatoes and wine. Bomb diggity. Then we watched IT. Interesting way to end the night. A great weekend overall, and I look forward to hopefully returning in the spring or summer to check out the surf scene.

san sebas black and white

San Sebastian

Well, I've done it. I've officially visited a place that I first imagined through the eyes of an author; I've walked the streets and pretended what it was like for him in the 1920's. Those streets were in San Sebastian, Spain, a coastal city in the Basque Country that I first learned about in Ernest Hemingway's book The Sun Also Rises. In the book, Hemingway describes the city as a charming place tucked away in the rolling green countryside of the border between Spain and France. The book also describes the meaningless pilgrimage of the protagonist and his friends as they make their way down to Pamplona for a week of revelry and disillusionment. I was thinking about these things as I stumbled off of the bus at 6:30 in the morning after 11 hours of hazy sleep and discomfort (where I also watched Black Swan, which was quite strange). Damn it was cold and dark! I proceeded to cover my mouth and nose with my scarf and put the hood up on my jacket before following the river that runs through town on its way to the ocean. I had the number of an Australian friend of my friend, Nathalie, but I didn't want to call so early in the morning. I walked along the sea, taking in what I could of the city at that time, this mostly consisted of idly observing the few drunk people still on the street. I was staring into the night-shrouded ocean when I turned around and caught 2 guys in a red car looking my way. It seemed strange to me so I continued on to find a city map. The same car passed me a few minutes later and stopped a 100 yards ahead, so I crossed the street. I was looking at the bus map when the car again pulled up beside me, this time with the windows down, and the man in the passenger street stared me straight in the eyes.

We held the gaze for an uncomfortable moment before he quickly got out of the car and came towards me. I started to back away and he grabbed for my backpack straps, but I ducked just in time and shifted behind him. I started running in the opposite direction and the red car immediately swung a U-turn and came after me. My backpack was effing heavy so I dropped it off behind a dumpster and hoped it would still be there later after all of this finally ended. I was down a side street, not knowing where the hell I was, when a Chinese man opened the backdoor of his restaurant and signaled me to enter. "Alright," I thought. It smelled like wontons and my eyes had to adjust to the neon lighting. I turned around and the Chinese man reached for my face and pulled down my scarf and hood. "You can't dress like that in this city," he said, "they'll think you are a member of ETA. I saw you get off of the bus, so I know you're a tourist." 

He asked if there was someone I could call and I thought it'd be a good time to call the Australian. He picked up quicker than I expected and asked with a heavy accent where the shit I had been. He had expected me to call around 6:45. I asked if he could meet me at the restaurant and he said he'd be there soon because it wasn't too far from his place. The chinese man gave me scrambled eggs and wontons and I waited. 

Fiesta Gallega

My friend, Irene, the woman that I lived with during my first 3 weeks, continues to give me memorable experiences that make my stay here more interesting and culturally rich. She invited me, Bridget (New York), and Mary (California) to a traditional countryside Sunday lunch. It was a gathering of her closest family, about 25 people, to celebrate a patron saint of Spain and the upcoming rival match between Deportivo (A Coruña´s soccer team) and Celta ( a neighboring city). It was splendid. Her grandparent´s house is in the countryside where each family has a plot of land with vegetables growing, an outhouse, and an orange-shingled roof. We chatted and drank sweet vermouth with a lemon slice (very nice!) until the food was ready. The dining room was crowded with 3 big tables, and everyone squeezed in and got prepared. My seat looked out of the window at the rolling hills and small gardens, the dew soaked grass and the grey skies, and I couldn´t help but imagine that I was being filmed in a Pilsbury crescent rolls commercial. Suddenly, the sweet smell of stewed meat and potatoes, cabbage, fresh bread, sausage, and chicken filled my body with intoxicating hunger. I went a bit overboard on the entrees, and was almost subdued by a coma when dessert came. They served a type of dessert cheese, a pastry tray, and cakes--all followed by coffee and Crema de Orujo, which is similar to Bailey´s, only much better. Daaaamn was I full! Then--the best part of all. The table of older gallegos ( the name of people from Galicia with their own language) broke out into magnificent song! It was awesome. They pounded the table and laughed and we just watched in wide-eyed wonder. Finally, a few hours later we left with many thanks and headed to the soccer match. Twas´ a great day, thanks again to Irene.
                                                 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89PWyqWc42Y

hold up swang (return to youth)

i dedicate this to ma' man p-flan
               silver-coated feet
              -hoppin'  into quicksand

thoroughly homegrown
        playin' in
            and
       chillin' on
backyard/front-lawn
last prawn first, dawn
big laugh slow moan
                                  *
                               *
                            *
Sideways stargaze
                       *    leavin'  slightly hazed grass stains
                    *                                        last phase gold light all daze
                 *
Nonsense once spoke twice spoken 3 times a language.

for you sarah

 Shooting a video for this would have been better, but the thought struck me after I had taken the pictures. Oh well. Here's a basic idea of my neighborhood and apartment...

Street leading to my house with small plaza

Same street (side view) cool bar/cafe.

heading down my street (entrance to right of pic)

Calle Orzan (my street)

Looking right from above, beach 4 minutes this way.

My building, top windows ours.

old school elevator

The Entrance

Roomie's rooms behind me, facing front door and kitchen

the kitch and courtyard windows

leaving kitchen, small hallway used to hang clothes out of window

other side of hallway, my room on the right

my desk

my bed and stuff (we livin' large)

half-bath and living room

living room

other side, streetside windows.

The End (thanks for visiting)

Halloween

hola amigos that check this thing every now and then. First a comment on the pictures below: la ostia (which means "the bomb" in all the new spanish slang that i'm learning)! Those trips were my first time getting out of the city since I arrived, and boy were they refreshing. I'm slowly learning how much of a country boy/nature lover I am. I guess, like many things, it is something that has always been a part of me, but that I hadn't noticed. My first month of "life" here was an experience in itself, and leaving the city and seeing how beautiful the land is around me began a second phase for me. I like to partition things like this. The trips coincided with my first weekend spent at my new apartment, as well. We only went 30-45  east or west  along the coast from A Corunia, but it was breathtaking. That was my first time being atop those kind of cliffs, and as I stood there, surrounded by the grazing cattle and wild horses, I mixed my vague memories and impressions of what Wales is like with my recent, strong memories of Estes Park, and I was contentisimo. Seeing those few gems of the landscape made me realize what a treasure trove I have waiting for me just outside my doorstep. My plans for visiting Europe are slowly being replaced by the more immediate urge to just see Spain.  Little by little.

My roomies are cool, and everything turned out great after a few preoccupations about the apartment, location, and the general idea of moving into a place with 2 strangers. They are substantially different and similar. Nicolas is an argentino that has lived here for 10 years. He is a sound technician, plays guitar in a band, and is more social and outgoing. The other is a local guy, Guillermo, and is equally friendly but keeps to himself more. He goes out less and stays home to play video games. It's cool, though, we all beat super mario bros. together for the first time since i was kid. They both are computer savvy, and i hope to learn some new things as the months go by. I've already decided that i like editing photos, although i just used the basic but fun Iphoto program on the mac. Bastante divertido. The apartment is on the "party zone" of town, which made me nervously remember my summer living on the Strip in Lafayette, but it's significantly different. It's actually a really pretty part of town, surrounded by plenty of stores, markets, cafes, pubs and small interesting streets. Not to mention it is a 5 minute walk from the beach. I will go on a walking picture tour from here to the beach next time we get a good sunny day. For now, I'll leave with a pic of this year's makeshift Halloween costume...

first trip to the country-side

Awesome Cliffs 

Cliff-Munching  (opposite direction form above)

They are about 30 minutes east of the city that i live, on the north coast of Galicia, looking towards France.

Pastoral gate on path down cliffside

Galician forest with river and old Celtic house.
You can occupy these buildings if you want: camp out in them for a weekend or just got to bbq

ahhh! to be a teacher...

Teaching is interesting, to say the least. My first unofficial classes here in Spain were for a second job in which I am the "main" teacher. I, in the usual manner that I do things, arrived to class unprepared but not altogether clueless. I knew that, because it was the first week, I could just chat with the students while trying to get to know them and determine their levels in English. The academy where I work has just opened, and there are about 4 teachers that cycle between the different groups of students every couple of weeks. We do this so that they can grow accustomed to different accents: U.S. (me), Irish, Russian-American. I teach a couple of classes with 11 year-olds and some with 9 year-olds, but others with kids between 4-7. Those are the worst. I am totally inexperienced with children, for those who don´t know already, and got torn apart quickly. pero bueno, 3 weeks along and I am learning to barter, threaten, and play with them better. I am also getting accustomed to making lesson plans before each class and recognizing the needs of different students.

All of the preliminary obligations of moving to a new country are finally over. I now have my bank account and debit card, library card, health insurance card, a blackberry (someone was kind enough to lend me one for the year), and finally a place to call my own!!

I took a while, but after too much deliberation, I just said F-it and moved into a place that I thought would be cool. The flat is in the center of the city, on one of the main streets, on the second floor of a classic looking European building. It's 5 minutes away from the beach and bars and restaurants, and I'm pretty excited to live there for the next 7 months. My roomies are two Spanish guys, one a sound technician and the other a light technician, which is pretty cool, and they seem laid back. One plays guitar and I think that we will all have things in common. It will be great for my spanish as I've been talking too much english with the woman I'm living with now. It's just too hard to stick to spanish right now when i want to tell a story, so I end up just switching to English. I won't be able to do that with these guys, though. I don't think, at least.

Jetlag and Tapas

     I've been in Spain for 2 weeks. Two weeks, already! I've decided to take this blog in a new direction. I intend it to be solely a place to store my observations and experiences with my friends and family back home. That's you, humble lector. No more painstaking attempts to be artistic and/or philosophical. No more boring, mindless banter. I don't think my paltry 7 posts deserve this many adjectives, but here we are. I'll go ahead and start from the beginning now and try to describe the last 2 weeks the best that I can. I'm lacking in photos, but I'll reconcile that in the next few days. Vamos...

The Arrival

    The actual traveling was a bit boring. I ate chinese food alone in the Chicago airport while watching the hustle and bustle of the hard-workers from around the world. I later found an outlet underneath a payphone and seated myself to try watching an episode of Dexter while I waited to board the plane. The battery on my Mac has already died (of course), and so I made my way to the boarding area and took a seat there. I overheard a girl saying her final goodbyes to someone, and I quickly inferred that she was part of the same program as I am. I inquired afterwards, and it turned out that she is living an hour away from me, in Santiago. We chatted for a bit and decided to meet in Madrid at the other end of the 8 hour flight. The flight was uneventful. I sat next to a dark-skinned Frenchman who did not speak much. I managed to spend my time reading and sleeping, and we landed in Madrid before I knew it. I looked out at the city lights and the long line of cars making their way to work in the early hours of the morning. "I made it," I thought to myself, "Spain and Europe, at last."

I met Wendy, my fellow ex-patriot, soon after entering the airport. We smiled at each other, knowing we had made it, and set ourselves to figuring out where to go in that huge airport. Customs was surprisingly easy for both of us, and we were boarding a train to the opposite side of the airport in no time. She walked me to my gate, because she had time to kill, and we exchanged info and agreed to meet up sometime over the next 8 months. The flight to La Coruna is primarily a business flight, and so I found myself surrounded by stiff suits and briefcases, while I had my shorts, straw hat and 3 bags to keep me company.

I landed. It was overcast and a bit rainy. "Well, at least I know what I'm in for already," I thought. Soon after, all of my "brilliant" arrival plans began to fall apart. There was no wi-fi in the airport for me to confirm if I was being met by someone from my school. There was no currency exchange in that small airport. I was gathering my thoughts and my luggage when a security guard approached to ask if I was Luke. Gladly, I said yes, and followed her to the three people waiting for me. My first lucky break. The director from my school had come to pick my and another guy up. The other guy never showed, but we stood there a while and waited while I shook the rust off of my Spanish abilities. Wow the accent is different from Mexico! A lot more "sh" sounds, although that comes from the influence of the other language that they all speak, Gallego. I felt relieved, but drained, as we left the parking lot.

We went directly to the school that I am working at. Two big double doors let you in from the sidewalk. The school is old, with 2 main staircases that lead to the upper two floors where the classrooms are located. We went to the teachers lounge and it begin to sink in that I would actually be a teacher, and working, not just living it up in Spain. I soon met, Irene, my saviour. She's a 36-year-old espanola, new teacher at the school as well. She speaks English well, with a British accent. She agreed to show me around a bit and we went to get tapas and a beer. It was 2 o'clock in the afternooon. We went to a small place and she explained to me that you just walk up to the counter and take what you want from a variety of freshly prepared tapas set in a glass case. The tapas ranged from fresh fish and roasted vegetables on a piece of french bread, to a cheesy, meaty, basically cheestick on a piece of bread as well. The first one that i tried had a bit of "pulpo", or octopus, on it, but i forget what else.

Seeing that I am still recounting the first day, I guess I should speed things along a bit. Irene helped me to meet with the random local who was willing to let me stay in his empty apartment for 2 days. Second break. I basically went there at about 8, watched some episodes of Dexter, and fell asleep at 9:30. I woke up the next day at 12ish. Jetlag had set in and I had not anticipated it. I walked around a bit that day to take in the city and also bought a cellphone. That's it. Slept early again.

They city is nice. I was in the heart of the Zona Vieja (Old District) which is composed of many pedestrian streets, small alleyways, cafes, bars and shops. The ocean is always present. The port is on one side of the bottleneck that leads to the peninsula, and the beach on the other. Around every corner one can find a pleasant park, plaza, or bench to sit on. Every single cafe has a tap that serves the regional beer, Estrella Galicia, which basically has a monopoly on the industry. It's very common to have a "corto" (short one) with tapas at the midday meal. All of the coffee comes in small concentrated cups, and with steamed milk if you want it. Everyone lives in apartments; the city is covered with 5-to-8-story apartment buildings. I wouldn't know how close to the ocean I was at first until i turned a corner and got hit by the fresh breeze blowing through. The weather has actually been perfect. It's has been unusually sunny for this time of the year, I've been told, and it feels like springtime in Louisiana with an ocean nearby. It was great...and then the weekend began...

Nightlife in Spain, and particularly in this city, is pretty intense. It´s a lot like New Orlenas in the sense that the party doesn´t usually end until you want to go home. This is a mid-sized city, though, and so the streets feel more crowded and it has a more communal feeling. The routine is different as well. One can stay in their house with friends until 1 or sometimes 2 in the morning and then decide to go out until 6 or 7. I have yet to do this, though, and usually head home at about 5.30. The streets are quite lively at this hour and it is nice to walk by the ocean so late at night. Friday night I met with Diana, the local girl that I met on couchsurfing.com, and she and a friend brought me to a local place called La Bombilla (the lightbulb). It is a long-standing restaurant that sells cheap tapas and beer to be eaten in the street. One can sample tortilla (classic egg and potato dish), filete (breaded steak with a red pepper slice and thinly sliced potatos), croqueta, and chorizo at the restaurant and then wash it down with an Estrella. It is nice to socialize in the street and watch the wide range of people gathered together. From there we walked across town to a an international mixer where Diana wanted to meet a girl from Belarus that she had also met on couchsurfing. We couldn´t find the girl, but eventually got into a conversation with some Brits, which was my first extended contact with any since Funland. It was nice, and my second job blossomed out of that conversation. Later we met some Spanish guys, thanks to the lovely Diana who draws attention, who turned out to be pretty cool. At about 1 o´clock the place shut down, Diana went home, and I continued on with my  new friends. We went to Orzan, the main drag, and hopped around for a bit. We enlisted some girls, by promoting that I am American, and all went to a bar together. We danced for a while, but i got tired around 4:30, and went outside for a breath and ended up seeing a large, enraged and bloody Spaniard get arrested. People were hanging out of their upper apartment windows to see what all of the noise was about. It reminded me of my days living on the strip, and I noted not to look for apartments on these streets. Irene eventually met up with me and we took a taxi home.

I slept until 2 o´clock on Saturday and Irene suggested that we go to a small beach side community outside of the city for lunch. It was quiet and beautiful, and we had lunch overlooking a small inlet. For the first time I tried pulpo and a shellfish that they call zamburinas. I met with Diana and her friends later that night and we repeated the previous night, only in a different part of town. Her friends are cool, and the weekend was productive, if for nothing else, in that I met so many people. Everyone is interested in speaking a little English, and if I encourage them a bit, they become all the more comfortable and friendly.
   Sunday I went to the beach with some of them before meeting with Irene to find the girl from New York that had just arrived. I had agreed to meet her on couchsurfing and to try to help her as best I could. Yet again, I met another beautiful person ( in all meanings of the word), and counted myself lucky to have met so many unique and interesting people in a short span of time. Her name is Bridget, and she made a change-of-life descision to quit her job and come to Spain, all without knowing any Spanish. She seems like a very motivated person and we share many interests. She had planned to view an apartment already, and after some ice cream and a trip to the beach, we all went to see the place. It was a superb apartment, with two lovely spanish girls and a german exchange student as roommates, and she immediately decided to live there. Here I am 2 weeks later still without a place of my own. I´ve been lazy, though, Mom. Thus, the weekend ended with all of us having dinner together and the hopes of a great year ahead...

time turnin', tockin' and patiently walking

flashback last 3 weeks, go! Denver trip Dushko, Viktor, and myself doing the city and burning the wick. Mexican omelets and the smell of the city at night.

10 people successfully sliding through the crack and 14 climbing Long's Peak.

business trip with Brett, and the old persuasively unconvincing sound of business ventures.

Marshall beating me at mini-golf.

first volunteer English class ever.

learning folk rhythms on the guitar.

rock climbing outside on some amazing formations and loving every minute of it.

becoming a British citizen.

Funk Nasty

It's hard to be philosophical. I guess it doesn't come easy-- at least not for most people. It's also hard to write on a regular basis, at least for me anyways. I seem to manage to squeeze one of these out every 3 weeks or so, only after I've forgotten all of the interesting stuff that was worth writing about. Let me just make a list of the most recent interesting experiences that won't mean much to anyone else without further detail:

--2 rowdy camping trips, one Turkish and one American, that both ended with minimal sleep and a long day of    work.
-- I was the drown victim, in order to test the lifeguards, for a crowd of maybe 50 in our public swimming pool (thanks Caleb)
--My car broke down in the middle of the rode and myself and 3 Colombian girls had to push it a quarter mile down the rode, one was in high heels. I didn't get completely angry and dejected, success.
--completed my longest and highest climb yet, Twin Sisters, 7 miles and 12,000 feet.
-- ate at the Indian buffet, had a charming encounter, and appreciated certain aspects of life more thoroughly than usual.

I'll leave this one short and boring because I'm feeling unmotivated. Cheers and chocolate raisins. Next time a short story me thinks.

Pretty Lights

This is a picture I took in Guanajuato, Mexico. I think it pairs well with this pretty chill song by Pretty Lights. More universally, though, it brings up the theme of memories for me. I don't have strong memories of childhood, and those that I do are just solid images and not streams of remembrance. There are also times in my life that I thought I would never forget, but that have quickly faded because I don't revisit them frequently enough. This is one reason that I have begun to make more of an effort in the last couple of years to document my life in words and pictures, however sporadic and inconsistent it may be. These things, along with friendships, I believe are some of the only real ways to truly conserve the past and all its sentiments (duh). I bring this up because I have recently been in contact with some old summer friends in hopes of having a reunion of sorts during my time in Europe. Talking with them has made me reminisce on times in my life that I thought I would never forget, but that are already surrounded in a cloudy haze. I still get that nostalgic, happy feeling I when firmly grasp one of those moments, but I also wrestle with a touch of sadness knowing that that time in my life is over, as well as that way of seeing the world. I suppose these feelings tie in somewhat with the pre-college/post-college sentiment that I have now, but i can't help thinking that life will never be that way again. This makes me exceedingly excited about spending time with those people that I shared such golden moments with, so that they can polish and restore some of my older memories that have lost their luster. There is something new and interesting about seeing people again for the first time in 5 or 6 years too. It borders on rediscovery and realization. I'll throw this in now to put this paragraph in a nutshell: 

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
          That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
          When all at once I saw a crowd,
          A host, of golden daffodils;
          Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
          Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

          Continuous as the stars that shine
          And twinkle on the milky way,
          They stretched in never-ending line
          Along the margin of a bay:  
          Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
          Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

          The waves beside them danced; but they
          Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
          A poet could not but be gay,
          In such a jocund company:
          I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
          What wealth the show to me had brought:

          For oft, when on my couch I lie
                                In vacant or in pensive mood,                             
          They flash upon that inward eye
          Which is the bliss of solitude;
          And then my heart with pleasure fills,
          And dances with the daffodils.
                                                              1804.

 My home in 4 months...