I had been to Spain once before. My first trip abroad (not counting North America) my best friend joined my family and I on a high school graduation trip to Europe. The first stop was Spain. My first introduction to Europe was the chaotic city of Madrid. I remember feeling overwhelmed, and noted the particular smell off the city, mostly, cigarettes and people with wafts of charred something. This was back before I had become entirely reliant on smart phone technology to ensure I knew where I was. Mostly,  I remember getting lost and trying to use a Corte Ingles (of which there are many) as a point of reference. And failing miserably. I remember the pandaria down the street from our hotel. I remember a freak rain storm that left me soaked and sulking while sight seeing. I remember, enjoying it all, but surprisingly I don’t remember much else. We flew through Barcelona on our way up to Marseille, I saw Barcelona pass from my train car, and distinctly remember wondering if I’d ever see this particular city.  Continue reading →