Will and I just returned from a mini vacation to the south of Spain. We spent two days in Sevilla, one in Ronda, and two in Granada. I was definitely ready for a change of scenery and the travel bug had really been getting to me before we took off. It is not easy to get time off work, being as it is that its basically myself and one spunky little scottish women that fulfill the reception hours. Whatever I have to do in the future to make up for missed time will be well worth it, however. The 5 day trip was just what I had hoped for and despite its bittersweet nature, I thoroughly enjoyed every day.

Sevilla is the epitome of what I had always pictured Spain as being. Beautiful tile plated buildings and mosaics, cozy patios with orange trees, small bars that exude history and culture, and plenty of warm friendly smiles. Sevilla is the 3rd largest city in Spain, but by the time we had walked to our pension in Santa Cruz neighborhood, it could easily have been mistaken for a tiny village on the outskirts. As has been the theme for much of our travels, we happened upon the last day of a festival. After staring in awe at the amazing cathedral and taking part in a parade of music religious sentiment (listened to a Cardinal speak) and prayer, we hit the tiny bars for a few drinks and called it a night. Day two we did some more sightseeing, had the best fried fish in the world, and made reservations for a flamenco show in the evening. I dont think either of us were ready for what we experienced that night. Straight from the get, there was an incredible feeling to the small patio on which we sat. In total, there were four performers, a guitarrist, a singer, a male dancer, and a female dancer. Each performer had their moment in the spotlight and each appeared to be in a trance-like state. It was not as if they were playing the guitar or dancing to the music. Instead, they were transforming their passion into a tangible entity. No thought was going through their head, only a zen-like oneness with that which is their art. It was absolutely amazing, one of the most incredible things I have witnessed and left me yearning for my own passion. That performance made me realize that I cannot settle. I hear so many people come into the hostel (either already with a job or about to embark on one in the near future) and say, "yeah, it'd be nice to love my job, but its not realistic." So many people that dont even know that they arent happy or just completely oblivious to things that matter. If nothing else, this experience taught me that I must look for my passion until I have found it, because otherwise, I wont ever find who I am. Somebody that has found their calling has an influence on people that otherwise would not be possible, one can sense it and feed off it. Everybody that was there in that room, felt the performance, as opposed to seeing it. That night Will and I treated ourselves to some upscale tapas, one of the best meals of the night, and ended up reflecting on the experience over a bottle of wine for at least two hours. I think I am still going in the right direction, and in time, Ill find where I need to be.

This reiteration of something my Dad had taught me, having only recently been realized deep inside me, makes me think about the idea of freedom. We are all free to live our own lives, but how many of us actually take advantage of this fact? With exception to those that are less fortunate and must struggle every day to feed and shelter themselves and their family (none of you reading this), we all are capable of living the life that we truly want. The problem then, is finding what it is we truly want and not what/who we want to be but who we actually are. It is not an easy task. Many never even realize the difference between who they are and what society/family/friends/etc expect or project them to be. Others sense some feeling of emptiness, but find it much too easy to brush it under the rug and forget about it until it reaches a point years down the road where a feeling of a life wasted begins to consume who they are. Others are aware of their predicament, but get tired of the discomfort of knowing that they have not reached where they want to be. They probably live a good life, but never reach a sense of happiness and fulfillment that is available. Then I believe there are the few that struggle to stay on their path and have their ups and downs, but eventually, find their passion, find themselves, and lead fulfilling lives. So who is free? Many people that would consider themselves free are quite different. They are slaves to jobs, money, appearance, spouses, ideals, fashion, status, and are ultimately left feeling confined and without much option other than to keep on going ahead. I think we are free when we have the ability to choose what is best for us and follow through with it. To know yourself well enough in the first place, and then to have the discipline to carry it out. I am far from where I want to be, but I think I am on the right path.

I will summarize the next two cities only because it's late, I'm tired, and the only thing really worthwhile has already been written. Ronda, was a picturesque tiny town of 40k. All white houses and an amazing gorge connected by an incredible bridge are the postcard pics of the city. We didnt have much time here, but we managed to take part in the Christmas spirit by enduring the insanely cold temperatures to walk up and down the main street, decorated with lights. Watched a soccer game in a bar that has one of the best ideas ever. Beer tap at every table, why isnt this everywhere in the states. They have a meter that records the amount of beer consumed along with glassware above and a glass washer as well. What started as a relaxing night, quickly turned into a night of drunken debauchery facilitated by an American bartender that kept feeding us shots and beers. Long story short, I ended up in the bath tub at the end of the night and we left the pension glad to have not incurred any additional penalties for the preceding night.

Granada turned out to be my favorite city of the three, although its a toss up between it and sevilla. It too has an authenticity about it, but there is a very strong moorish influence, from architecture to souvenirs. At times I felt as though I might as well be walking down a small street in Morocco. We went and saw the Alhambra and both enjoyed it, but neither of us were blown away by it. It is an amazing site, very spacious and beautiful, but there wasnt one jaw dropper, nothing to really distinguish it. That said, we spent 3 hours there and would have spent more had we not wanted to get to a lookout point for the sunset (yes, how romantic). The best experiences in Granada were the shisha bars we went to. We drank the best tea weve ever had (its rich and sweet) and relaxed while smoking the hookah. Definitely wish we had a lil sumpin sumpin to spice it up, but it was a great experience nonetheless.

As much as I didnt want to come home, Im happy to be back in Barca. It doesnt have quite the spanish feel that the cities we visited had, but it has its own unique character. I guess the reason is because its never wanted to be spanish, its always wanted to maintain its independence and have catalunya separate from spain. The pride of the locals here is very apparent and rightly so, this is an amazing city with something to offer anybody that visits. Open invitation to those reading.