Jumping Right In

So we have departed from Rome, and although I already miss it dearly and it’s been less than a week, I can’t knock the sunshine in Spain.

And of course my ever-developing Spanish.

We actually live in a hostel that is unaffiliated with the school…need I say more?

I digress.

So far, everything my dearest señor had ever taught me is a proven fact. Everything from the lisp that all Spaniards speak in to the vosotros form and they, in fact, do not hold up signs that say, “conjugate this verb!” You just have to know how.

We are relatively separated from the real life of the city, which is a new idea to us. We have the bare necessities nearby; ie- supermercado, bars, American diner.

The first weekend here, I experiences all of the above and even took an excursion outside of the lively Sevilla.

Sharon, Sebastian, and me: bridge conquerers.

We drove a long time to some bridge in some town.

Sounds promising right?

Alright, so we signed up to participate in a bungee jumping excursion.

I didn’t really watch the entire hooking up process. All I knew was that we were to sit into a leg harness that and those little mountain climber clips were attached until you were ready to plummet.

NERVIOSA.

I watched two people go first. Actually, I watched two people get strapped in and one climb back over the railing in fear. Very inspiring. So naturally I volunteered to go next.

It was me and go ol’ Sebastian, which was intimidating considering I knew if he went there was no way I was backing out. I got strapped into the harness and the first wave of immense fear hit me as I climbed over the railing. I wasn’t hooked in, this was not the time to trip. Had I tripped, I probably would have at least broke my arms, therefore I wouldn’t be able to type.

Comforted yet Mom?

So there I was, standing on the railing of a bridge letting Spanish speaking men tell me I’m going to be okay as my hands tremble relentlessly.

All I kept reminding myself of was the jump I did into the state park which will not be named due the illegal nature of our presence where I jumped into the water after having to get pep talked into doing it. This was worse.

I heard the countdown begin, looked over at Sebastian, and as soon as the countdown finished, even mid-freak out speech, I pushed off the bridge.

Once we got into the raft I asked my jumping counterpart what he thought and he said “I thought I was dying.”

THE JUMP.

Accurate.

The fall isn’t long, but it was long enough for me to see my 20 years flash before my eyes as my stomach came up through my throat.

And then I felt the tug of the stop.

After that is the swing which gives a slightly smaller drop, but nonetheless stomach turning.

This was one of those moments that you feel young and alive (as someone else screamed as the jumped from the ledge.)

It was an absolutely incredible experience. And it took place in Spain. Adrenaline at its finest.

in our life boat.

From some points of view, this can be seen as completely uncharacteristic of me. But if nothing else, this entire trip is an excuse to do things uncharacteristic because that's part of finding out who you are and doing it in the best way possible: jumping off bridges.

I mounted the bridge and screamed ESTAMOS VIVIENDO. I don't think there was a better way to put it in any language. I had to jump because had I stood on the ledge and climbed back over, it'd be a missed opportunity.

And I'd have to sit in the Puss Circle with those (and by those I mean one person) who were strapped in and stepped back from the ledge.

In all honesty, I want to go back and do it again. But maybe I'll just settle for sky diving next.