Dwindling...

Each day I freak out a little more about leaving this place I've learned to call home. I was stressed about this feeling the minute I booked my ticket to Spain, and I (as I always do) tried to run away from it for as long as I could. But now, as the countdown hits the low 30's, I have to snarl at my departure with gritted teeth.

But. What lets me stop the fight I put up with my eyelids each night (not wanting to miss another minute of this city), is thinking back on all that I've seen. What's interesting though, is that I am more smitten by the spontaneity of each little day-to-day pleasure, than by the grandeur and touristy attractions.

I hadn't realized that until today. After what felt like a wasted Saturday followed by amplified antsy-ness of not having many more nights to waste, I was taken back to my first few weeks in Barcelona. I stumbled on a plaza I hadn't yet seen, talked to an old couple that made my heart as warm as the Starbucks holiday drink in my hand, made perfect time to sit in on a mass, somehow found a SICK break-dancing show, ran into a friend on the streets, and stuffed my face with arguably the best waffle I've ever had.

It's things like this, that they don't show you in the pamphlets and the guided tours and the websites, that make Spain what it is. An open-armed hidden gem with a funky air that's just a little bit lighter than what you breathe back home.

Please, don't make me cut the umbilical cord.