Last summer I was stuck in a limbo. So I went to Spain instead.
Since the arrival of spring, I’ve been thinking about my time in Spain a lot lately. Spring means that summer is close. And summer close means Spain is close to being a year away in the past from me now. A year is a long time. And once again, why can’t we put feelings away in glass bottles to preserve them forever?
These are my Spanish things I’d bottle up, in no particular order:
– The afternoon I arrived and how friendly everyone was, switching to speaking English just for me (they thought I was having trouble speaking Spanish because I was exhausted…little did they know not being able to speak Spanish was a permanent condition)
– That morning in Cadiz when I ordered breakfast at the bar without a menu and asked for a phone charger, all in Spanish, for the first time. I fed myself in a foreign country without having an existential crisis, that was a milestone!
– The conversation I had with a professor from the University of Sevilla on comparison of Cuba and Cadiz. I. HAD. A. CONVERSATION. THAT. WASN’T. JUST. ABOUT. DE DONDE ESTAS? (Cannot confirm I understood everything correctly, but he didn’t seem to be bothered).
– The nights on our roof terrace, where all of us foreigners surprisingly felt at home.
– The unplanned language exchange dance party
– Inspiring the 18-year-olds at a Dutch Pancake night, and myself, while at it
– The morning walk in the Parque de Maria Luisa after I heard the good news that limbo was one step closer to an end
– The first time I went to the Alcazar on an eclipse
– The big ol’ homemade paella made on our rooftop
– Grocery shopping in Triana like the most local of all locals
– The day I made an executive decision to travel for another month, just because I can.