September 24

Three days before I left for Spain last year…this time it’s really hard. I keep thinking about how temporary this year is, i always have this mindset. I’m moving soon, always picking up and leaving, packing up clothing items, and shoes and a few photos that i want with me, but really, i don’t have a desire to stay in one place. I never really have, i’ve always romanticized leaving, and wandering and…i love it.

Except for in Spain, in Spain i fell in love. Not with a person but with a physical place. I fell in love there, I fell in love in Portugal, in France, with all my friends from Canada, my friends from Germany and Japan and Thailand and England. But, in Spain, I really fell in love. The type of love that starts to feel like home, in a way that you don’t want to leave, really you want to stay. You feel comfortable there, the sound of Spanish in my ears was comforting, the accent on the c and z was music to my ears, and it was what i heard when i was at home… My small bedroom in a narrow flat above a bar, where I looked out at the street to buildings and skinny streets filled with Spaniards at all hours of the day and night.

Even Madrid, a huge city with thousands more people than the small city I came from, it felt like home. It felt like home walking down the busy streets in the middle of the night and in the bars and even in hostels. It immediately felt like home. By the end of the trip it came full circle to me staring out the balcony of a much nicer hotel in Madrid, where I looked out to the hustle and bustle, cabs and Spaniards just going out to eat dinner and enjoy their night. I packed my suitcases with gifts and clothes I’d bought while abroad, along with countless souvenirs and mental pictures that would never fade, or get lost. I looked out the window, thinking that three months ago i thought i’d be ready for this day, but i wasn’t. I was ready to be there, and it was already over. And I thought, why do i have this feeling like i’m leaving home? I have only spent three fucking months here. It was a part of me, is a part of me now. I think about Spain everyday and laugh and smile and cry, it never leaves me. I long for it, I cherish what it is and what it was, I can’t wait to go back, but I know that it will be waiting for me, always. So, I live but I feel for it, i long for it.

And now, a year later, I still long to go back. So much so that I thought this morning, if i had the chance I would make the decision today, to get up and leave again, to go back there. Fully knowing that it might not be exactly how it was a year ago, I thought confidently it’s Spain, the adventure is always there….*


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