Se acaba. Sies semanas para aprender espanol, se acaba.
I went to school for the last time and after classes had a goodbye drink with my teachers. I went to the beach for the last time and dove into the divine Mediterranean for the last time.
Now I am going home.
I love Spain, but it’s a different love from the one that I have for my home. It’s a love that has saved me.
I looked back on all my pictures from the beginning of this journey, and I looked into the eyes of the visage staring back at me, at a wounded soul who was searching for healing and praying that God would intervene, and He did.
Now, I think I am ok.
When I go home, I can take with me the lessons I have learned here, not just Spanish, but from life:
For one, being ok is a state of mind, it doesn’t matter where you are, it matters how you feel.
Love is love, no matter how you classify it, and it’s beautiful.
Life always grants you opportunities to learn from your mistakes, and realize that when you think you have catastrophically fucked up, it’s really not that deep, because somewhere, across an ocean, on a beach, none of that matters.
Spain has a lot of pork.
The alcohol in Spain is a salve for the stomach.
The beach in Spain is a salve for the soul.
Air conditioning is underrated.
The Yankees aren’t really that important. Except Robinson Cano.
Spanish people like to touch my hair.
Grammar in any language is a bitch.
There are other black people in Spain. They’re just hiding.
Siesta isn’t so bad.
Sunsets are just as beautiful as sunrises.
Al sol le brotan ramas de alegria.
I am really pretty when I am dark as hell.
Meeting new people is a good thing.
Spanish men love shaving parts of their bodies.
For some reason, Spanish people hate bulls. I liken this to the South Park episode where the Japanese kept attacking whales and dolphins.
French people stink.
I love my family. They know who they are.
I am truly blessed. And I thank God for this everyday.
Next year, I am gonna try to learn French. I’ll see what happens….
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