Road Baguettes

Orilla de Azarbe, Murcia.

A lengthy aged cement road that serves as a man-made oasis from a sprawl of lush plots of farmland.

A line of houses and unknown public buildings with dusty faded paint stretching along the foundations of this road until they come barley recognizable.

For some people this sight might be something off-putting, rare, strange, and a stew of many other emotions. For four months I have given this view one identity:

Thursday.

Standing next to a wide metallic post with the markings of "Latbus" I find myself on the corner of this street awaiting the usual Thursday ride home after a day of working at the primary school Vicente Medina. Four hours of mimicking basic English grammar, listening for errors during speaking exercises, giving dozens of high-fives, and attempting to maintain the role of "teacher" towards a few hundred Spanish children, makes the silence of a lone bus stop feel like an embrace from a long lost friend. Not seeing a single person within tangible range of senses makes being here somewhat alien yet increasingly refreshing.

A single car passes. The person driving shares a similar interest towards me as I have towards them. Very little.

A gust of chilled winter air yields a silent shiver and somewhere the shaking of unknown trees can be heard in a soft waving fashion.

The number sixty-two bus is the only one that I have ridden on in Spain that arrives exactly on time. Normally they arrive eight minutes early or five minutes late. This in the four months since starting my contract as English assistant is the only public transport that arrives exactly at 1:13pm, the time printed on the chronicled list of arrivals along the metallic postage sign that faces me to the right. Vicente Medina is conveniently located directly in the middle of what some call nowhere hence hardly anyone is entering or exiting this particular bus, especially at this particular moment in time, giving each rare passenger a comforting awareness of punctuality.

Knowing that there is probably still a three minute window before the bus arrives I instinctively unzip my backpack and rip out a piece of semi-squished baguette then swallow it down in only a few bites. I bought this snack before heading to work this morning in anticipation of being hungry. My parents would probably have told me to chew slower but this is technically my Friday and being on a completely silent street where there inhabits more chirping rooftop pigeons than people I'm sure that no one will give much attention.

The taste of road baguette lingers in my mouth within Orilla de Azarbe as these words become immortalized inside the realm of this blog.

I dig a little deeper in my snack's paper bag and gather an additional soft chunk of soon to be eaten bread.

This post is coming two weeks later than intended. I wanted to write about the visiting of some great friends (John, Nick, Andrew, Thilak, and Gabriela) during the winter holidays. I was really fortunate enough to have visited John and Nick in Manchester, Andrew in Liverpool, Thilak in Cologne, and Gabriela in Paris. It had been years since we all had last seen each other and the reunions that we shared we something that i am truly grateful for and will remember for the rest of my life.

Preparing my first private English lessons, researching new warm-up activities for students at the two school I work with, and reconnecting with friends have all consumed great quantities of time since returning to Murcia.

Where there once was inspiration for a blog post there now sits a loaf of bread that was bought from a store located along a different corner in Murcia, and also possibly in life.

The proper words, descriptions, and gratitudes I wanted to express to the people visited during the break have regrettably taken the same form of the baguette that was once in my backpack. Similar to the ghost of what was once in the now empty paper bag as it sits balled up in the palm of my hand I can hardly remember how the words I wanted to use looked like. Maybe the post I wanted to babble was supposed to be this long or possibly it was going to be shorter.

I sincerely apologize and as the number sixty-two bus is starting to show its purple and orange rectangular forehead along the once empty Orilla de Azarbe concrete passageway it is now time to go forward with the afternoon and in life.

The bus is now here. I'm greeting the driver. The bus stop is now disappearing from sight as I sit in the back aisle of the typically empty Latbus.

Not a single person is here expect for me, the driver, and seats filled with memories from winter break. The hunger still persists however the road snack is completely gone and now there are only a few fallen crumbs that have escaped into my backpack.

Will I buy another loaf in the future? In this world its hard to say what decisions we will make and which bakeries to support.

There is one that I know will be frequented again. One that continues to keep me smiling and looking forward to when I get to see it again.

To some people it may have many names. I for a handful of years and hopefully for the rest of my life will give it only one identity.

Friendship.

Until next time.

Going Gone

BToday is Tuesday and at this very moment I am sitting in the back seat of a coasting ALSA bus as it paces towards the city of Alicante. This marks the first offical day of a two week winter vacation for the vast majority of schools in Spain. Until sometime last week my plans for the holidays were loosely patched together and filled with blank spots that stood out like holes along an old road. Most english teachers have elected to leave Murcia for at least a portion of the holiday and starting with this short bus ride I will be following a similar trend.

After getting in touch with some close friends I finalized a series of accomdation situations and booked a one way plane that is due to leave from Alicante in less than four hours. It's destination will be Manchester, United Kingdom and the purpose of this trip will be to reconnect with two really great guys who I last saw two years ago in South America. Nick and John both go to school in Manchester and it will be truly great to see those guys.

From Manchester Nick and I will celebrate Christmas (if I'm still invited) with his family in Liverpool then a few days later drive with his mom to Blegium. From Belgium I plan on taking either a BlaBla car or any form of public transit to make my way to Cologne, Germany to see two other good friends who were also last seen two years ago in Ecuador. Thilak and Alex have offered to show me around their city and since its been so long it felt like a good idea to take advantage of the vacation to see them too. 

Lastly from Cologne I will find some form of transport to take me to Paris to celebrate New Years with geat person named Gabriela and her friends. She and I haven't seen one another since meeting for the first time last year with the help of Couchsurfing. A few other people, Fanny and Alice, live in the city as well and we haven't seen each other in almost six years.

From Paris the final plan is still unclear but either way I will need to make way towards Murcia because the vacation will be drawing to a close.

Writing the final words to this post I feel nothing but excitement to see these people and feel even more blessed to have them as friends. Over the years it could have been very simple to lose contact but by equal efforts from each person's part these reunions are about to take place. The maintaining of friendships like these are some of the greatest gifts anyone can ask for and it's becoming difficult to maintain composure simply thinking about seeing these people again. 

As this bus nears its destination I can physically see that an airport is coming into sight. The wide and tall glass terminal of the large Alicante airport can be literally seen from outside the back window of where I'm seated. Witnessing all of these concrete events unfolding doesn't change how the internal semi disbelief and excitement are starting to drive my consciousness. Mentally, despite what is really happening, I have no idea where this bus is going. 

All know is I'm gone. 

I hope that whoever reads this has a very wonderful holiday season and a great start to 2015. Wherever or whoever you are I truly wish the best for you and hope that you can celebrate this time of year with those who are most important.  Have a great day and enjoy each moment, you are beautiful :)

Cheers.

Under the Ficus Trees

Today is Wednesday and despite being mid December the weather in Murcia is surprisingly warm. Based on my limited experience of understanding climate patterns for this part of the world it has been worthwhile to always pack an extra layer because temperatures have been known to go through daily identity crises'. At 9am the sun will leave you shedding layers however by 3pm you will want to run towards any enclosed building to escape the chills of incoming wind. This being said I have packed a light jacket in preparation for the potential bombardment of invading shivers.

It's been a few weeks since posting in this blog and for that I apologize. Between preparing Christmas presentations for class and hopping into BlaBla cars on weekends, time between my last posting and the current one has entered a tunnel of evaporating velocity. Last weekend my friend Lieven and I spent a few days in a rain soaked Madrid to stay with an Argentinian Couchsurfing friend. During our short yet condensed trip we hopped a morning bus to wander around the medieval gem also known as Toledo. This small yet beautiful city is a blending of Jewish, Christian & Arabic cultures and picturesque rolling green hills can be seen from all corners of its sturdy castle walls. We connected with Jesús, a really nice guy from Bolivia, and he showed us the highlights of Toledo which for me was the Alcázar, a looming symbol of the Spanish Civil War. Jesús and his family knew Lieven through Couchsurfing and we shared a delicious Vegan inspired dinner as they reconnected for the first time in years. While back in Madrid we took a day long personal walking tour through Parque del Retiro, Puerto del Sol, then ended with free entries into the museums El Prado and La Reina Victoria. The Spanish capital city is a massive yet magical place to visit and thanks to the fantastic metro system it's fairly easy to navigate. Thanks to Couchsurfing we were able to see this part of Spain on a shoestring budget and for that I am very thankful.

At this exact moment I am taking a seat on a faded brown park bench watching scores of casually paced walkers crossing in various directions in El Jardín de Floridablanca. Taking a seat only minutes ago there has already been a steady progression of pedestrians continuing the rhythm of their daily pattern and watching them go by is quite peaceful. Some are dressed in fancy business attire, others have their backpacks hanging loose on their shoulders, others are prepping for a jog and striding with seemingly un-natural leg motions.

With my cell phone on airplane mode the past few minutes of complete disconnection from the realm of electronic social clouds ignites calming internal streams that are rooting around me like those of the massive ficus trees that line the park's central stone passageway. Built in the 19th century and occupying a large rectangle shaped territory within Murcia's El Carmen neighborhood, El Jardín de Floridablanca is easily my favorite place to relax in the city. Separated by El Rio Segura (the river that dissects the city) from the hustle of downtown Murcia this meeting point for locals is still close enough to feel a heartbeat away from its pulsing energy.

Besides the great people watching this sanctuary is nice because under the spreading fingers of ficus branches I am completely shielded from the sun. The benches that form a synchronized stitching pattern along the lining of the park's main walkway are also surprisingly comfortable. Along the oposite entryway of the park scores of children can be seen playing in confusingly shaped structures with their parents looking onward in casual fashion.

A slight breeze sends scores of ficus leaves skidding towards an Eastern sprawl along the pavement. Somewhere motors from cars can be heard buzzing in accordance to stop lights.

Besides the rays of tall standing sunshine another important thing is being shielded by the ballooning green vegetation of the ficus trees: My identity. Sitting on this park bench there exists a temporary and necessary internal oasis. No one in this park knows who I am, why I'm in Spain, and what path in life I have chosen. However it's also impossible to guess who the unknown park explorers are either. Maybe the person that just crossed my path is studying to become a lawyer. The woman on her cell phone might be a local television personality or maybe a criminal seeking refuge from pursuing authorites. No matter our life stories and the countless decisions we have made to reach this precise moment in life, everything has been left on the outside sidewalk as we now share at least one visible mutual interest: this park and its soft falling ficus leaves.

Once we leave the protection of it's steal fences & non-attention grabbing monuments to people I've never heard of we will return to everything that we used to know.

As two legged human beings start to look more like waving dots along pathway its my cue to leave and continue to whatever it was I was doing.

Maybe the unknown park walkers will see me sitting on that same bench again one day in the future. Maybe they won't.

At least we will always have the ficus trees.

It's time to put on my jacket.

Shower like a Spaniard

Today is Thursday and as the dialogue of local Murcian news is streaming from an undetermined origin from my computer the day is progressing in orderly fashion. After four hours of assisting two English professors at Vicente Medina, a primary school located along the border between the Murcian towns of El Esparragal and La Orilla de Azarbe, the work week has officially ended. I share time each week between this school and La Señora de los Angeles which is centrally located in El Esparragal and both locations provide different yet equally uplifting environments. Between language exchanges with a couple of the town's really nice locals and frequenting a local bakery on a habitual basis for empanadas I am beginning to feel like a quasi part of the town.

After seven weeks of working as an English language assistant I feel fortunate to be a part of both school's bilingual programs and each day continues to be a learning experience. As of this past Monday there is now a new love in my life: Mandarines. Murcia as a region doesn't boast the most prominent architecture or traveler friendly scene compared to the rest of the country however it does happen to be Spain's leading producer of delicious fruit and vegatables. Local food products can be found at absurdly cheap prices within nearly every grocery store and as stated above I have found a new addiction towards mandarines. On Monday I was awarded a bag full of them by the grandfather of a friend who lives in El Esparragal and the rich juicy citrus of their orange inspired deliciousness has me completely hooked.

Last Sunday after hiking along a sunny coastal trail with Lola, Lucia, and Leiven within the nature preserve of Calblanque, roughly thirty minutes outside of La Manga towards Mar Manor, a second love of my life entered the realm of my tastebuds: Paella. Inside a local restaurant and while sharing una jarra of Estrella beer a massive black simmering saucepan was placed at the center of our table. Garnished with wide sliced limes an assortment of green peppers, red peppers, calamari, clams, & full pieces of chicken sat docked within the shores of a savory saffron rice lagoon. Despite all of us equally being starving after the hike we weren't able to finish the enormous serving of Paella and elected to rename it's role into leftovers.

Like an echo of the first sentence within this blog post it is currently Thursday and the sky outside is cloudy with possible hints of rain in the forecast. Since flicking enough keyboard combinations to create three paragraphs the background soundtrack to my afternoon has now shifted to underground Hip-Hop, a rhythm reminiscent of living back home. After seven weeks of living a semi-expat lifestyle in Murcia I sincerely miss the good music from home but more importantly I miss the people who I once shared it with. Mexican food, hot sauce, bicycle lanes, and social acceptance for wearing flip-flops are a handful of other things that I miss but luckily there are new aspects of life that have taken their place. The ability to share a delicious tapas dinner among friends at a whopping price of $7 is a nice change. Instead of addressing friends as "man" or "buddy" you now have "acho", "tio", and "hombre." The word "joder" has multiple entertaining meanings and children as young as 6 can be heard expressing it is various contexts. Instead of scratching your head with a good response to something you didn't quite understand in conversation there now exists a simple melodic verbal solution: "vale". People here are also very helpful and open, often to the point of excessiveness. Without knowing who you are a family will gladly invite you to lunch and without question offer you a glass of local wine as if it were part of their daily routine. People here are also for the most part very proud, honest, and friendly despite assuming that since I'm American I have a fondness for hamburgers, shooting things, and being late to everything.

As I sit here in front of my computer I realize that this morning I didn't wait to see if any of my roommates were going to use the shower. I simply woke up, stumbled half-awake into the bathroom and did what needed to be done in order start the day before school. When I first moved into the place where I currently am living it was a different story. Taking showers, like crossing a busy street, ordering a beer at a popular bar, or simply living life in most cases requires you to simply just take the lead and make the first move. By the time you wait for everyone to wake up then ask if they need the bathroom you might have already missed the bus for work. People here seemed to have figured this out and it's something that I want to take into daily accordance as long as respect for others is maintained.

If I walk away from this experience having gained nothing else at the very least I can say that I can now shower like a Spaniard.

Have a great day and more updates coming soon :)

ValenciAhhh

Sometime around 8pm last Friday an ALSA bus that originated in Murcia made its final stop within the city of Valencia. After conducting routine pick-ups in Elche and Benidorm, a pair of smaller cities a short distance from Alicante, the mode of transport passively lurched into a nesting place between two brightly tinted yellow lines painted on asphalt inside an airplane hangar style terminal. The sky was dark and once the buses' rear doors glided open a sprawl of disembarking passengers scattered in unseen directions with varied degrees of urgency. After waiting my turn in a moderately progressing line and five careful downward steps I was now officially in the city.

With zero plan of action and not a clue of where anything was located I managed to make way towards the neighborhood El Carmen, one of the oldest barrios of Valencia. During the bus trip I booked a single night at the Central Valencia Youth Hostel via my phone in order to have at least a small point of reference upon arrival. The hostel, like its title, is conveniently located in the center of many important landmarks like Plaza de La Virgen and los Torres de Serranos. After charging my phone, meeting a couple backpackers from Australia and Sweden, then sending out a series of last minute couchsurfing requests for the following day, I exited the hostel with not a single idea where to go. 

The soft sliding shut of the trendy Euro-hostel's glass door changed my role from casual vacationer to street dweller and impulse driven corner crosser. With the door closed behind me the first major decision of the weekend presented itself before my very eyes. 

Turn left or turn right?

My first evening in Valencia proceded in this kind of fashion. Sneaking between allies, impromptu U-turns, and sudden curb jumping guided me first towards a hundred something person bicycle posse congregating around the Turia Fountain of La Plaza de La Virgin where middle aged men walked around with paper bags looking to sell overly priced street beers. A few more left and right turns sent me to Plaza Viriato to enjoy the closing of an electronic DJ set among scores of seemingly well-to-do Valencians donning nice evening attire and more street beer. Twisting along through confusingly titled streets and following along with various waves of strolling locals I encountered Alberto who was working at "The Hotdog Factory", a corner food restaurant selling what you probably can already guess. Alberto introduced me to a girl named Lola who then gave me directions to a music venue called "Loco Club" where a band from Madrid called Dinero was performing. With no plans I followed the directions that she drew on a white napkin and spent the rest of the evening listening to high energy Spanish rock music.

Once Saturday Morning introduced itself with a groggy handshake I was informed by the staff of the hostel where I was staying that the facility was fully booked and check-out was in 2 hours. Looking online not a single hostel in Valencia had space for less than 35 Euros which was way too expensive for my budget. No one responded to my Couchsurfing request either so it was looking like a return to Murcia was going to be happening later in the day.

While thinking of options on a hostel computer someone messaged me on Couchsurfing. An American named Nadia working as an Au Pair saw my request on CS and was interested in exploring the city later in the afternoon. Having not a clue what the next plan of action was as per usual, I put my personal backpack in hostel storage, checked out, then met her at Mercado Central. From there we wandered around various parts of Valencia's historical district with no destination in mind and it was a fun way become acquainted with the cityscape. Starting with creating our own bocadillos in a nearby plaza from goods bought at Mercado Central, people watching from my hostel's rooftop patio, and trying tinto de verano at "100 Montaditos," then taking pictures of countless exotic urban art the afternoon passed in flashing instants. After recollecting my backpack I decided to stay an extra night even though I didn't have a place to sleep.

With all of my possessions attached to my back Nadia and I met up with some of her friends who were from the city and spent most of the night in El Carmen. Between finding a feet stomping drum parade, stand-up comedy acts in a half-constructed building foundation, kebabs, having tea at a teteria, then dancing to funky-beats at a great bar called "Radio Music" my final night in Valencia was one that will forever leave me in a good mood. Laura, Nadia's friend, was nice enough to let us stay at her place for the evening and I will be forever thankful for that act of kindness.

Before saying good farewell to Valencia on Sunday we climbed the winding stairs of Micalet located within the cities' cathedral to catch some of the cities' best views and did some wandering a little bit more just for old time's sake. I feel very fortunate to have met Nadia and hope to repay the her fantastic role of tourguide to her or anyone else if they ever visit Murcia.

Having returned from Valencia there were a lot of supposedly important things I didn't manage to experience. I didn't try the cities' famous Paella, I didn't make a small trek to the beach like a lot of visitors, I didn't see La Lonja & didn't go into The City of Arts and Sciences museum. If anyone asks what exactly I did do while in Valencia the answer is simple:

I had one of the best weekends of my life.

Bus Station Roulette

Today is Friday and I hope that who ever is reading this post is enjoying the start to their weekend :) Sitting in the backseat of a fairly full ALSA bus the sun has just dipped beneath the western horizon and formations of white circular lights from various passing buildings are the only signs civilization in what is now a completely black view from the window.

It's been a little while since updating this blog and as of yesterday I have completed five weeks of working as an Auxiliar de Cinversacion in the Murcian town of El Esparragal. Between dressing up for Halloween last Friday as a priest, playing games with the kids, and even guiding a handful of daily lesson plans, the experience has been very energy consuming yet also rewarding. After a few weeks of classes mixed with a number of language exchanges within the center of the city I am starting to feel ready to teach private English lessons as a form of extra income. If whoever reads this knows anyone interested have them whatsapp me haha.

While outside of the classroom a group of Auxiliares and myself have been meeting for Tapas and scavenging the city for the cheapest menu del dia. A current personal favorite is an Ecuadorian ran restaurant in the neighborhood of El Carmen which offers a very non Spanish menu but it's prices are the best I've seen in city. A Couchsurfing friend has introduced me to parts of the salsa dancing community and a new personal goal has been relearning the practice a few nights a week at a bar called Bora Bora. Last weekend a good friend and I went to Alicante for the day to soak up some remaining warm weather before the transition into Fall officially begins. Another day trip on Sunday to El Cañon de Almadenes made it a fourth consecutive weekend for getting out of Murcia. 

As I sit here within the speeding ALSA bus the fifth consecutive weekend for making a getaway towards a different region of Spain is about to begin. 

This morning I woke up with a strong urge to just show up at the bus station in Murcia, see when the next bus was leaving to any particular destination, buy a one way ticket and simply see what happens. It could be from a random desire to get lost or possibly a sensation to mix up the increasingly routine structure to each week. Whatever the reason I simply just needed a break.

After running two important errands at the bank I packed a small bag with one T-shirt, one pair of socks, underwear, toiletries, phone charger, guidebook, jacket, and ultimately my passport then walked across town to the station. At about 1:45pm I stood in a filed line at a mechanical ticket kiosk still not knowing where I wanted to go. Within moments it was now my turn and I had to make a quick decision because people were collectively gathering behind me in patience for their chance to buy a ticket to their predetermined destination. 

Standing at the machine I was lost in the scrolling sea of countless Spanish town and city names. A few immediately came to mind but there wasn't a bus leaving anytime soon. After a scrambling I finally typed a V then an A then maybe out of instinct an L and "Valencia" came up on the white screen.

Thinking for a moment I tapped a few buttons and suddenly a thin sheet of paper spat out at the palm of my lowered right hand from a small chamber of the kiosk.

The next bus bound for Spain's third largest city was leaving within an hour and now one of its future passengers was going to be me. 

I don't know how long I'll be in Valencia. Maybe 24 hours, maybe a couple days since school starts back up on Monday, or possibly just a handful of minutes. I have no idea. Not even knowing where I will sleep makes this seem like an unwise idea. However sometimes the best plan is having absolutely no plan whatsoever.

I've just played a game of  adventure roulette, let's see what happens :)

In my heart the results of this game hardly matter because inside I know I've already gained what I was hoping for. I wanted to feel the breaze of some place I've never been before, to see sights of previously unknown destinations, to be free.

My shoes are tied, a backpack is safely gaurded between my resting feet and I have an open mind so let's get lost :)

Updates coming soon!

Frank Ocean & Olive Trees

In the backseat of a mid 2000s dark blue Audie sedan a hunch that the trip to Granada was going to be memorable arrived into my mind once heavy synths of a Frank Ocean track blended into the car's stereo speakers.

For some odd reason each time a song reminiscent of home comes into contact with my ears while traveling there sits an internal sensation that I was meant to be there, that it was good decision to visit that particular destination. As rows of olive trees lined in synconized fashion along the rolling soft green hills to both sides of the Bla Bla car the overall look of our surroundings gradually started taking a different form. We no longer were in the region of Murcia, this was now Andalucia. As we dissected through this part of southern Spain the colors of the trees shifted from light greens to yellows and oranges. 

Within minutes of bidding farewell to Thomas, our Bla Bla driver, Lucia and I quickly connected with our friend Paco. Paco is the son of Lola, our other roommate, and visiting him was an excuse for us to visit Granada. From the moment we transitioned from car passengers to street explorers the weekend entered a time warp and it's hard to believe that this post is being written on Monday because the previous three days have passed like flickers of an expiring light bulb.

After beers and a menu del día at a corner plaza eatery named Basil we proceeded to wander the streets of Granada in search of nothing in particular yet at the same time everything we could think of. The city itself sits at the base of a very expansive set of mountains also known as the Spanish Sierra Nevadas and a great point of reference is to simply head for a hill or go down one when having difficulty locating a major street. Transitioning from Greek colony to Roman metropolis to Visigoth stronghold to Islamic powerhouse  then ultimately a climactic Christian Spanish reconquest symbol, Granada is visibly a mixture of many historically rich cultures. The final reconquest of the city by the Spanish took place on the same year that Christopher Columbus "discovered" America.

A majority of the weekend was spent along the Darro River which intersects a major portion of the cities' white painted historical center. Between getting lost along the bohemian Calle Elvira in search of Hookah bars, taking in the wonders of Mirador's San Nicolas & San Cristobal, seeing tombs of Spanish royalty near Granada's Cathedral, dancing to Reggaeton at some unknown bar that served sugary Mojitos, relaxing on the lawn of Parque Federico Garcia Lorca, then a majestic tour of the infamous Alhambra, we managed to take in many flavors of the city. I would recommend Granada as an immediate place to visit for anyone traveling to Spain and feel very fortunate to have witnessed a handful of it's endless deck of experience cards. 

As I sit here within the quiet confines of Cafe De Ficciones back in Murcia I feel like I accidently left something behind in Granada. The bag I packed was pretty light and besides a couple pairs of socks, one pair of shoes, and my camera the idea of something forgotten seems a little unrealistic.

Thinking back maybe I dropped the unknown item in one of the cities' artist inspiring plazas. Then again it might have fallen out of my pocket while wandering through Alcaiceria, a winding corridor of Moroccan markets where "these" and "those" are sold in bushels. Maybe it could be frozen in wonder at the finest of textures along any given wall of Alhambra. Maybe it's sharing a moment of peace behind the protection of a round-shaped stone fountain along El Paseo de los Tristes. Then again it could have been left behind one of the soft crimson pillows of a teteria deep within the incline of an Arabic inspired neighborhood.

After thinking for a moment I realize that something was definitely left behind. It's the reason for my moving to Spain, for working as an English assistant, for continuing this prolonged life-quest to get lost then find the way all over again.

Its my curiosity.

Thinking one more time maybe it's not in Granada. I think it's in Madrid or possibly Valencia. I haven't been to either of those places yet.

The fast picking guitar riffs of "On the Road Again" by Willie Nelson just introduced themselves to the atmosphere of Cafe de Ficciones. 

As I pack up my belongings and head for home there is definitely one thing I left behind in Granada.

My heart.

Until next time...