Things that make me blissfully happy:

The smell of wood-burning fires.

The taste of hot apple cider.

The smell of wood-burning fires and the taste of hot apple cider together.

Skiing and singing to myself when no one can hear.

Braiding pigtails in anticipation of skiing.

My “Champagne Supernova” ritual.

Staring at a blank page, waiting for drops of blood to appear.

Piercings.

Being with people who know me through and through.

Making tomato sauce and smelling the garlic hit the hot oil.

Riding down an unknown highway at night when someone else is driving.

Sitting in silence with another person while the both of us get lost in work.

Meeting other Americans abroad and just knowing.

Holing up in a café with a café cortado (also known as a café noisette or a caffe macchiato) and my computer to write while I stare at the rain.

Surfing in the rain.

Surfing at all.

Seriously… I don’t understand how something that I barely knew anything about could become such a huge part of me in such a short time. I live for 4 o’clock, for forcing myself into a long-sleeved wetsuit and heading for the surf, board under my arm. I love to watch raindrops fall on the surface of the water–I am in Basque country, after all–especially when they’re so strong that it looks like it’s raining up instead, like the air is absorbing the ocean drop by drop all around me. The rainwater mixes with the saltwater on my face, and I never know when I lick my lips if I’ll taste clear fresh water or the heavy salt I now recognize after being tumbled again and again and again… not that I mind in the slightest.

I get a pang in my stomach when I even think about three weeks from now, when my hair will not be constantly wet, when I start to wear makeup during the day again, because there’s no reason not to if it’s not going to come pouring down your face as you make your first duck under a breaking wave.

I’m getting a little hint of what that will be like now: for the past two days, the waves have been four meters high here–so high, they even make the river angry–and since I can’t get to Mundaka, and even the best surfers in Gros don’t attempt to surf this ocean, which looks ready to devour you whole, I’ve been standing with the rest of them–all of Gros in a line along the beach instead of in the water or in a bar with a caña, watching the waves lap the beach, attacking the rocky jetty and spraying those who get too close.

Today it’s raining again, the kind of rain that I love to surf in, the kind that not only falls but seems to attack the ground, pounding and pelting every surface with gallons of water. I got a pang of longing as I stared at the uncharacteristically empty ocean and beach and headed instead to ZM, a café and restaurant right on the shore, writing instead of surfing, staring through the glass-paned windows at my ocean, already missing it even though it’s not yet truly gone.

During a pause in the rain, I went outside to take pictures, but they don’t do these waves justice: they’re huge and wild and untamable, perfect except for the fact that I can’t be out in them myself. I stood at the edge of the boardwalk and watched them smash the rocks, staring so hard I thought they would absorb me whole. When I got back, I licked my lips, and they tasted like salt spray, the salt that seems to be a permanent fixture of my life here, crusting my eyelashes and drying my hair into beach waves even though it’s nearly November, much longer than I usually allow my hair to curl rebelliously around my shoulders instead of styling it into something more manageable.

I let my usual café cortado go cold as I relished the taste of salt, licking my lips until that too was gone, and all that was left was a hint of rainbow outside and the whitewash of waves at the foot of the hill that looks out over Gros.

Vegetarian Sort-Of Chili

This isn’t really chili, but I treat it like I would chili, sprinkling shredded cheese on top and dousing it with Tabasco. It doesn’t really matter what you call it: it’s perfect after finally abandoning your seat by the window and trudging home through the pelting rain.

1 tsp. olive oil
100 g. lardons, bacon, ham… whatever
1 clove garlic, minced
3 carrots, sliced into half-moons
1 can pinto beans, drained
1 can white navy beans, drained
2 cups tomate frito or tomato purée
2 tsp. basil
1 tsp. oregano
1-2 dried cayenne peppers
salt and pepper

Heat the oil in a heavy stock pot over medium heat. Add the garlic and ham and cook one minute. Add the carrots and cook 2-3 minutes, until they start to color a bit.

Add the beans, tomato and herbs and spices. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the carrots are soft, about 20 minutes. Add water if the mixture gets too thick. Serve with hot sauce and shredded cheese.