How can I write six days of Spain into one blog post? It seems impossible, because so many feelings live restlessly within me as I flip through pictures and memories. Because expectations and reality never make love to bring the perfect mixture of both into the world. Expectations are too high because of past experiences, or you expect nothing at all, leaving your reality to fill in the blanks. Spain was a bit of both, knowing I had bought a one way ticket with the intention to move to the sun and stay for a while.
As a dream, reality kicked in and brought to the stage a fabulous job and home in Brussels. Plans change easily. So the one way plane to Spain and romantic idea of writing books on sunny terraces while drinking sangria and falling in love with a Juan or two, were washed down the drain under the heaviness of Belgian rain. I happily chose that rain, and grey days all of a sudden tasted sweet. I’m wearing pink glasses in Brussels, seeing how dreams of a fun job, sweet friends, live music and a place to call home are coming true.
Living in Spain is still somewhere on the endless list of dreams, but the six day holiday already satisfied me partly, leaving me with a longing for more. I was excited to get back to Brussels, back home. A place where I can build something up, where I’m starting a new chapter after many years on the road. Oddly enough, this city gives me peace of mind. It’s busy and loud, it can be grey and depressing, but I am in a travel mindset of endless summer and it’s GREAT.
As long as I can spike my daily life with little adventures, I’m happy. Whether it means getting lost in city streets or flying south for some sun on my face, it doesn’t matter. Malaga was all new to me, so I felt like a kid in a candy shop. Granada was filled with memories of long days catching up with friends, festivals and road trips, and nights full of music and love.
It seems like wherever in the world I find myself, Memory Lane is my favourite one to get lost in.