I'm going to Africa tomorrow. There's something you don't say every day. I'm nervous but the more I think about it, the more I think I need it. I don't recognize myself right now, but not in a good way. I'm hoping Marrakesh will help ground me a little. Re-center me. I'm such a mix of contradictory emotions. I am so happy to be here and loving the things I am seeing and doing and experiencing but I am so lost too. And it's more than just being in strange countries. It's a different kind of lost, an internal kind. Maybe I came here to lose myself? If so I think I'm ready to be found now. I'm hoping Morocco will help with that somehow. It is, I think, among the most adventurous things I've done, going to Africa by myself (if you're reading this Mom, stop worrying). It's not Nigeria or the Congo or any place with a strong Red Cross presence but it is still Africa. And I probably have no idea of the kind of culture shock I'm in for. If I'm lucky that shock will knock me out of this stupid funk I'm in. How can one be happy and miserable at the same time?

Now, about Madrid. I'm glad I came here without many preconceptions because I'd probably have been disappointed. There isn't that much here. The Prado was wonderful but I haven't found much to fill the rest of the time. Walking around isn't as interesting as it is other places. But, I came here because you have to go through Spain to reach Morocco so there you go.

My Spanish has impressed me though. I've done pretty well at understanding people and communicating. Even understood some of the movie they showed on the train. I guess 5 years have had an effect, even if 4 of them were 6 years ago. I think if I stayed here longer a lot would come back.