Back from Spain

I'm back. I'd like to say that I'm oh-so-pleased to be home. I can't. Of course I'm pleased to have the comfort of my own bed, and a bathroom used only by me, and to see my friends and the animals and all that. But. It is officially winter in The City Beneath the Mountain, and you know how I feel about that.

Also, my head is filled with stories of Spain. I am going to attempt to write them all in the next couple of weeks - narrow streets, ancient buildings, history dripping off them all, a modern revolution taking place, Dali and Gaudi and beautiful, quirky, statues in Valencia, a French photo exhibition in Madrid, an incredible exhibition by an unknown-until-he-died American cardboard artist, street performers, musicians down below in the murky Metro with its tell-tale stench of, well, Metro, sweet orange juice, cold beer, hot caffe con leche, tapas, chorizo, jamon, the list goes on...

All in the hot, Spanish sun. Spain just has a frisson (not sure if that's the right word) of passion. It's in the air. The people don't seem friendly and then you're surprised by their smiles when they smile. They're openly affectionate. It was obviously Spring and love was in the air. And in all the parks, on street corners, in the bus... You get the picture.

It was wonderful. I'll be sprouting stories I hope. If I don't get drowned in the avalanche of admin and work that has met me. I need to keep reminding myself that the world is oh-so-much-bigger than this all.

Ole!