First impressions of Spain

There is something very meditative about traveling alone. The reaction from so many people this week has been "Alone? You mean without anyone else?" Then they nod in this particular way. I think it´s short for "weird but cool," but maybe that´s just what I want to believe. Traveling alone is lonely, certainly, but there is also something particularly focusing and energizing about throwing yourself into a new place completely on your own. I woke up at 4am this morning, 5 minutes before my alarm, alert and excited for this brand new thing I was about to see and do.

Heavy lids stayed away through the long lines at Schipol and onto the plane. This excitement stayed until about the time they rolled through with the duty-free cart and 2€ tea. I was reading The Prodigal Summer at that moment, and I remember having to read each paragraph 2 or 3 times for the rest of the flight. I wasn´t tired enough (yet) to sleep, but nor was my brain in any position to make sense of such arcane concepts as english syntax.

Then they announced that we would be landing soon, and I swear it was like three shots of espresso (or a stout dose of provigil, if you prefer). I got off the plane to the thick air and smell particular, apparently, to all spanish-speaking countries regardless of longitude and latitude. That, at least, was familiar.