Bending time

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As a virgin to Spanish soil, I had anticipated this moment for many a long hour. What would Spain look like, taste like, smell like? People from all over had crowded my vision with their own anecdotes and feelings, and the pre fabricated images of a lazy siesta-ing country were at the forefront of my remarkabley un-vivid imagination.

I was feeling a bit lost about the whole thing.

And then I arrived in Girona.

The absolute image of what I imagined a Spanish town to be, without me even quite knowing what I was expecting.

Archetypal ancient ruins, classic cornices and windows, gothic architecture and little hidden gardens containing fruit trees all over. Sweeping cobblestone streets, coffee and cigarettes, flags billowing gently in the breeze and the sound of laughter and the accordion on the wind. I kid you not.

You couldn't ask to sample a more exquisite sereotype.

The Dali Museum in Figuerres is a must. Doesn't matter if you dig his groove or not. The man deserves an afternoon of your time.

Viva la Espanol!

(Photos coming soon)

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