A Spanish Interlude P1
I showed up to Spain in the fetal position. Espana though was a kind mother to me. Her warmth a slow spread of honey and she tickled my belly. Soon she had me doing happy baby nightly, with my heels kicked in the air looking at the ceiling of the starry night sky. Wondering what is softer than a cloud at night. I rode off the ferry into Barcalona at one in the morning, sandwiched between disembarking semi trucks and hippies with dreads down to their butts living van life. I was instantly struck by the humidity, and Montjuïc overhanging along the port, the bike path going alongside gothic buildings reflected in fresh puddles and the large scale twinkling Christmas decorations crowning every street. As a self proclaimed non-city person, I was instantly enchanted. I planned to stay for one night, and for almost a week I started my days by taking the elevator down (full of people from all over the world to chat too) to the front desk and asking “Una ...