I just got back from Spain.
but I seem to be blissfully unaware.
because I'm drinking their coffee.
and scrolling through pictures of balconies and open air markets...
and FIND THE PRIZE IN THIS PICTURE.
I barely remember the food.
it didn't make much of an impression on me.
My hands smelled like olives for 10 days.
Yeah. I did have every single thing you see in these pictures.
I showed no restraint.
Wait. I did not have these merengues.
and that was only because it was lost in translation.
And speaking of, I massively underestimated the language barrier.
But, as my cousin said, it was sort of hilarious running around the market getting more and more confident in our ability to order things.
and I developed a barely-there skill of slipping under the radar as having studied Latin in highschool... and 4 treacherous semesters of French intensity in college.
(id like to dedicate this post to my language study partners of yore Erin Buckley(Ecce!) and Danielle Boyd(tres difficile!)
seriously evaluate the picture below.
This explains why I have been grasping for bread since I got home.
I miss eating a loaf three times a day.
And sometimes it isn't the place. It's the trip.
And it should be a requirement in life to go somewhere. where you see people who you should otherwise never run into. So you know they exist. That people outside of your daily routine are for real.
And in a joyful sighting through a museum window,
I remembered that we are all students. And when we realize that, we are at our best.