I found my home in Spain. It’s on a bike.
I’ve struggled for a long time with the fact that I haven’t been able to find the thing that will allow me to share the affinity that so many of my friends seem to have for Spain. So many of my friends love it here, speak fondly of their time here, reminisce about places that I’ve felt no connection with. I’ve made some good memories in Spain, but they’ve been fully about the people I was with, and seemed to be in spite of Spain, rather than because of it.
I’ve spent most of my time in Spain in the Girona and Costa Brava area, and a little time in Barcelona. I was thinking I’d have to explore other parts of Spain, because I just didn’t see it. I couldn’t find anything here that I connected with, the roads, buildings, and people were nothing but objects, with nothing behind the facade to connect with. After two weeks here, I was resigned to just get through my time, hammer out my hours in the warehouse, and go home. Late last week I finally got to a point where after hours and hours in the warehouse, surrounded by bikes, on days that could be described as no less than perfect riding days, I just had to get out on a bike.
I finally found that thing that allows me to connect with Spain. It shouldn’t come as a big surprise, I found it from the seat of a bicycle. I had a perfect ride that day. I felt at home. It’s still the only connection I feel with this place. When I’m not on the bike, I still just go through the motions. I’m still not enamored with Spain, but I have something to build on. Maybe someday this place can feel like home, too.