The breeze from the sea. The lazy mornings, late lunches, siestas, and dinners at 9. Beer and wine that is cheaper than water. Streets teeming with people at all hours of the day and night. Tortilla española and aceitunas. Bars that serve café con leche in the morning and kalimotxo in the evening.
To say that these are just memories of my trip to Spain 7 years ago wouldn’t do it justice. They are like puffy mosquito bites, oozing with temptation at every move. Though I can certainly relieve the itch by making my own versions of tortilla española and kalimotxo, it is only temporary. I must choose to either ignore it or distract myself from it until it goes away.
My seven-year itch to get back to Spain is at the strongest it has ever been. Perhaps it was the video I made for a class about tapas or the recent digital excavation of the pictures from my time in that beautiful country. My taste buds yearn for the rich food and drink, my tongue wants to dance along to the rhythm of the Spanish language, my eyes long to set their gaze on the Pyrenees and the sights found in the quotidian Spanish life and my body aches for a Quijote-esque adventure through La Mancha.
I know someday I’ll make it back, but for now….please pass the cortizone. I’ve got a mosquito bite on my thigh that’s driving me mad.
