Final Days of Spain

After several weeks of blog neglect, I feel utterly compelled to share the frenzy of the past month now that I’ve at last been afforded a moment for reflection and recollection.

My departure from Lanzarote was tearful and weighed heavily on my heart as I peeled myself away from the xenful island life that I grew to adore and that has effectively become a part of me.  My final day, I knew no better place to say goodbye than by taking Smurf for a drive down my favorite open road to those precious cliffs, and strolling along Famara Beach to a hidden spot between the dunes.  The beach was quiet, with clouds rolling in overhead and gusts of wind twirling around my hair and skirt.  I took this personal moment to say farewell and vow to return sooner than later.  Somehow in just a short span of time, this mysterious place managed to shake me to my core and re-center me in mind, body, and soul.

 When I at last departed, the skies had cleared and I gazed out of the airplane window at the entire island, now appearing curiously tiny.  I said goodbye to each village, watching my favorite spots pass below me, keeping my eyes locked on the land until it was at last out of site.  And as the sun sat brilliantly into the horizon over the sea, I took a deep breath and choked back my tears, repeatedly thanking this place for all it has given me. 

When I landed back in Madrid, hysteria of the big city metro on a Saturday night smacked me in the face.  I reemerged into the noise and hustle, trying hard to hold on to my inner calmness as people dashed past me and the loud noises filled my ears.  For the two days I spent here in limbo, I managed to keep out the madness, becoming starkly aware that life in a big city is definitely not conducive of relaxation or inner peace.  I quickly headed north for another breed of adventure in the Basque Country of Spain.  My adventures through San Sebastian, the tiny neighboring coastal towns, and a happy return to Pamplona are best if recounted independently in another post. 

Again refreshed from a week of more Spanish discoveries, I returned to Madrid for one more week in this incredible country I proclaim as my second home.  I filled my days reconnecting with those individuals that I hold near and dear, returning to those spots I regulared once upon a time around the capital’s center, and maintaining sanity as I dealt with life back in a metropolitan environment.  When Monday arrived, as much as I wanted to make a last minute attempt to abandon my flight and latch on to my life as a Spaniard, I reluctantly departed and made the lengthy voyage back to my inevitable base of Raleigh, North Carolina. 

This return is different, being much more brief and sandwiching a state side adventure to NYC, visitting my bro who is experiencing a whole different type of adventure. Then, in less than a month, I’ll be hitting the road, literally, and trying my hand at life back in the states, making Denver, CO “home”.  But I can’t help this overwhelming feeling from rising up inside of me and feeding a burning desire to be back in Spain sooner than later.  I found a home for myself in there it leaves me feeling lost and unfulfilled to be separate from this place.  It’s more than just a location; it’s a lifestyle, a feeling, an energy, that draws me in unyieldingly.  Still, I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and that if Spain truly is my destined home, I will figure out a way to settle my roots abroad, happily and legally.  Life has a funny way of working things out, so I’m going to roll with the punches, give Colorado a chance to shine, but keep Spain close to my heart, always.