Oh Spain, How I Love You So

Traveling to another country is always a paradoxical experience for me--reality is suspended for the duration of the trip yet the trip is reality in itself.



The former exists because I get to escape the responsibilities of work and don't have a care in the world. Instead, I am transported across the globe to another time and place, strolling down the cobblestone streets of Madrid and Barcelona,


passing through the colorful apartments with shuttered doors and potted plants on the balconies,






and looking up in awe at the medieval Alcazar fortress and Roman acqeduct bridge in Segovia










and at the massive cathedral in Girona.

Reality is temporarily frozen and gone are thoughts of the chores I need to complete and bills I have to pay, or concerns about my future career goals or the latest NY Times headline.

But at the same time, my experiences are as real as they get, with all my senses heightened from the new stimuli.






My eyes bounced around at the sight of quaint cafes and boutiques on every street


and rested on Picasso paintings at the Reina Sofia Museum (but fell asleep at the Prado)












and Gaudi masterpieces.











I also discovered my penchant for ornate windows and doors in the small towns that I visited.


My nose caught whiffs of the strong morning espresso and the stench of beer from the futbol fans celebrating Barcelona's win.










My back and feet hurt by the end of every day from walking every where.








My ears danced to the quick strum of the Spanish guitar and was warmed by conversations around the bar and dining table.


My tongue savored every morsel of food that it touched, from the crackling skin and moist flesh of suckling pig (look at its tiny little foot!),


to the saltiness of anchovies,


to the soft, crispy croquettes filled with bacalou,


to the cinnamon and sugar-encrusted flaky xuixo with sweet cream filling.

(more food pics!)









With great food comes great company. I befriended people from around the world (mostly western world)--the Brazilian guys who were nice eye candy, the Colombian German guy who had a scar the shape of a W on his neck, the Turkish girl who took us out at night in Madrid, the animated Polish guy who accompanied me to the Reina Sofia Museum and made me appreciate Picasso's Guernica, the Iranian guy who lives in Paris who doesn't trust swimming with dolphins, and the Aussie girl who works in bird conservation who was my eating buddy in Barcelona.









I spent my last day in Spain wandering the streets around Barcelona's Barri Gotic neighborhood, trying not to feel sad about leaving a place that I barely got to know but quickly fell in love with. I wasn't ready to leave my non-reality and go back to reality. Oh Spain, how I love you so...