My beloved

Plaza de Cervantes--during the summer, there are little shops that open up, and people sit in the plaza sipping wine and doing nothing (or alternatively, reading or chatting). With each drink order comes a tapa.



Me and Kristin, a study-abroad buddy-turned Alcala local eating tapas.



Even the Atocha train station in Madrid brings memories.



Going out in Madrid with Stef and Allie.



Plaza de Cervantes--the meeting/chilling/skating historic center of the city



Olives growing in southern Spain on the way to or from my city.






I lived in Alcalá de Hernares which is about 40 minutes by metro from Madrid. I traveled all over Spain and Europe and parts of Morocco. I fell in love. In love with Spain, in love with someone else, and the entire experience was incredible. Every moment was better than the last, and I never stopped discovering and changing. It has had a profound affect on my life since. My journey into Judaism, the joy I take in learning language and culture, my work as a study abroad advisor, and my skeptical but decidedly liberal outlook on the world all stem from my experience in Spain. It would not be a stretch to say that I have been traveling the world seeking to recreate (with varying degrees of success) at recreating the experience I had in Spain.

So last week, for the first time, I returned. When I went to Alcalá de Hernares, where I spent my time living and studying (and as a home-base for other travels), I was at the point of tears. Tears of happiness and memories, then tears that I would have to leave again. It was a perfect time, the only thing I can complain about is predictable: it was too short.