Al Andalus and Me: A Love Affair

Spain has been a treat this time--a homestay that makes anything else pale in comparison, spectacularly blue skies (not once have I seen rain), soaring temperatures, low humidity, thrilling vistas of medieval towns, seaside resorts, succulent sea-born goodies, refreshing brews, good friends, willing students, winding alleyways, trailing geraniums, diverting mosaics, and soaring steeples. As I near the end of my month in Andalucía and turn wistful I also turn nostalgic and can't help the comparison with past visits. I am stunned to realize that this is in fact my 5th time here: as a mere 17-year-old in 1990, again in 1993 as a semester-long study abroad experience, not again until 2003, then again the next year in 2004 as the director of Washington and Lee University's Spring semester in Spain, then not again until 2011. This pattern of two on, ten off is interesting. Does this suggest that I'll be back again next year (when both Spain and the US have national elections)? I would certainly be foolish to resist the pull of this dynamic peninsula. I think the best way to experience it next time, though, is with the one I love.

You see, showing the one you love a part of the world that has spoken to your soul is sharing a piece of who you are. That part of the world has, after all, shaped me into the person I am today. Since my partner and I wake up to each other everyday, it seems nonsensical that he has never been here with me. The languid, gesso-worked, Arabic scroll of the Alhambra wends its way over walls and through fountain-sprayed rose gardens.

Its tendrils tempt you and twist their way around the corners of your being as they do the corners of narrow, breeze-filled passageways.

The stalactite vaults above your head finally convince you that these 13th-century artisans really could harness the essence of nature and enthrall your psyche.

Orange trees mingle with periwinkle, jasmine with juniper and cedar. The heady aromas transport and lull. The call of the muezzin may be absent, but I can hear faint echoes all throughout Granada, Córdoba, and Sevilla. I have glimpsed the panoramas of all these cities through horseshoe-shaped windows and polylobulated arcs. How has my love not shared in these moments?

The heat never stops. The sun constantly beats on your skin. Sweat beads, and disappears. Knife sharpeners hawk their services, and silverware tinkles from the many sidewalk bars and cafés. Andalucía changes slowly on a millennial time scale--I am grateful that it also miraculously changes people.