Beautiful isolation to close 2010

This year ends with words that almost rhyme. Isolation, confusion, and emotion. All of the good kind.

On beautiful isolation. The dream of every woman: to travel to an exotic remote spot with 9 hot French kitesurfers. Me, the women. Them, the boys. Dakhla in the Western Sahara, the spot. This place is peacefully located in the middle of nowhere. A land that hides natural resources deep down the desert-like surface. A land ruled by Spaniards some time ago and decolonized the Spanish way, sloppily. Boyfriend Husband (BH) has strongly discouraged me from asking any local about the conflict in the Western Sahara. The journalistic me dreams of writing a small article on it and publishing it in El Pais. BH says is dangerous and Moroccans do not like to talk about it. The truth is that from our kitesurfy bungalow all I see is a marvelous sunset, gentle Moroccans (Saharaui or not) and wonderful international families making the most of this last day of 2010. If you wonder about the 9 French, they are all top notch. Polygamy should be legal. Despite inviting my single girlfriends to this unique opportunity...none came. I have confirmed few things about boys: 1- they keep on being boys well beyond they turn 30, they talk about things that crash, when they succeed at something (i.e. standing on a kite board) they repeat the story gazillion times (and exaggerate) and 2- they need girls around to have fun. They seem to ignore girls but, nah, nah, they need us badly. They also have strange theories correlating hot female underwear with bad sex, and the opposite. Most of these guys seem to understand that when we say something we mean the opposite...so they are almost ready for couple life.

On confusion. This one I do not know if it is beautiful. Most of the time is exhausting...but some other times this confusion is what keeps me going, moving, dreaming. What am I confused about? Maybe a better question is what I am certain about. I needed a couple of breaks to be able to continue writing this paragraph. My confusion can be explained as 'acute eternal adolescence' in medical terms. Those who have it understand what I mean. Those who doesn't...please tell me how you recover. One day I want to travel half a year by myself, do another Erasmus, see the world and play the tam tam while I tan my skin in a quiet beach. The next one I want to have kids, become a housewife who buys the 'baguette' at the local boulangerie and reads books in a magnificent living room (fireplace and confy coach included) that I own. Then I go back to the thought that I do not need any of that, at least not until I turn 35, the age when I'll become an adult. Property becomes an enemy, kids a hassle and buying a baguette every single day at the same place: total boredom. And when I am ready to imagine myself playing tam tam in Tahiti while I watch BH surf a sudden nightmare makes me feel that I am fooling myself, wasting time and not building anything in life. Then I want to become a politician, serve society, study journalism, run half marathons, excel at work and be a proud hot mother of 3. All at the same time. Am I being too demanding on myself?

On emotion. Emotion for being a friend of friends, for sharing my life with the most wonderful human being on Earth, for having a healthy, beautiful family ageing like a good wine and for entering 2011 still believing in living a full, intense, unconventional life.

(*) Photo Dakhla, courtesy Gael.