ensalada mixta of fear

yes, a mixed salad of fear.
nibbles of this assortment, paired with a juicy reason why:

#1 fear of children
there is a child in this house. he is a boy. for his privacy, even though he´s 4, i will refer to him by "Eek." it´s actually pretty similar to his given name. and sounds like what my involuntary reaction is when someone mentions kids or mice: "Eeeeek!!"
yes, there have been fits he´s thrown. doesn´t want it to be day outside. wants the "sun to not be out." wants the moon, instead. doesn´t want to get dressed. doesn´t want to get undressed. kicks, spits, wails, cries, tantrums...ay, que dramatico.
then, while we played Mr. Potato Head, i hear "the voice." i hear the demon voice of the child in THE SHINING...and it´s coming out of the mouth of Eek. i begin to pray. and Eek keeps speaking. not "redrum," pero, things he wishes his Mr. Potato Head would help his Thomas the Train guys with on a daily basis. he says things like "lift up the crane" and "his arm fell off in the slop" and "i need more metallic force." in the demon voice. all demon voice.
i will pray tonight, but if i see twins, i am f*cking out of this mansion.

#2 fear of being lost
i am directionally challenged. i don´t know streets or boulevards, i know landmarks and the neon sign with the chicken place on the opposite corner. i suck at directions. and, my neon chicken savvy has come in handy. on occasion.
so, my fear has taken new shape! i have taken long runs in the neighborhood of Otura, alone, without a map, without a compass, without keys, and without identification. yes, yes, that last part is stupid, but i didn´t realize i was even doing that until now. (sorry mom/dad/christian)
it´s been pure instinct and careful reading of the signs (which are not helping my fear, since many many calles are NOT marked). i know that Calle de Lope Vega is one block over, and that takes you into the new subdivision, where it seems as though the entrance to the golf course is located. i know Calle Azucena, my temporary street, is located close to the recycling and trash bin. and if I take it to the dead end, and turn left, then follow that down until the stop sign (which no one stops at) and take a right, i arrive at the new supermercado and the fresh turf of the enormous soccer field!
i also closed my eyes on the bus ride from downtown Granada to the Villa de Otura. at night. for about 30 minutes. half of the ride. and i didn´t even ask where the bus took me.
pure instinct and careful reading. until i get lost and freak out.

#3 fear of gypsies
plain and simple. they latch on so quick, calling after you, calling "guapa!" "bonita chica!" with a spring of something green clutched tight, an offering, for you to take, for them to read your palm, for you to pay them more money than you have on you, for them to dig their nails into your wrist, for you to shout in front of a sacred church that contains the remains of kings and queens, for them to demand your money for the (unwanted) palm reading, for you to continue to repeat, "Nononononono, señora, nononono no, gracias. No!"
plain and simple. not all gypsies. just those.

#4 fear of speaking spanish
this fear i will 100% be mentioning again. and again.
BUT! today, i made cold calls to spanish speaking people!
on my own!
and spoke to them!
as a professional!

Hola, es ¿Carolatta alli´?
Me nombre es Gina Cornejo de Venture Forth Iberia.
Si´, claro, quiero hablar con usted acerca de una visita proxima.
¿Se puede hablar en Ingles?

my intention of this trip (back in may 2009) was to come and work for a best friend of my mom,
who owns a travel company with her husband. they are such wonderful people (buena gente!) and to gain a bit of experience in their world of traveling and leading tours in spain and france and morocco...either hiking the Camino de Santiago, or biking in the south of france.
so, tonight, making my calls, and helping find una guia for the tour in burgos, that will lead 25 american students around the catedral and other relevant monuments, i had to do a little interviewing. to see how well they could speak in english. so, a little spanish, a little english.
i´m trying, people. i really am.
and, i must say, Luis, Mercedes, Noelia, Camila, Nikolas, Gloria, and Blanca, among others, weren´t that poor as candidates for the tour.
i hear speaking to the dead at a cemetery helps overcome the fear of speaking another language.
because you don´t have to be shy, and they won´t correct you, and they just like the company...however that the diction and inflection.
but the living...they can be harsh, but helpful.
i´m trying.

namaste, m*tha f*ckas.