Ochenta y siete.

87.

87 cafes con leche

87 tostadas con jamón y manchego

87 days of Spanish air filled lungs

87 siestas

87 freckle face days

87 coca colas

87 days walking on cobblestone

87 days to give tourists directions

87 wine dates

87 morning Greetings from my host mother

87 more opportunities to eat Spanish fruit

87 Sevillan sunrises

87 Sevillan sunsets

87 ‘hasta luegos’ from and to everyone

87 Cruzcampos

87 complementary catcalls

87 more days in Europe

87 more days till the US

87 days left in Spain

I could give you more than 87 reasons why I don’t want to leave. I won’t – but I can.

__________________________________________

This past weekend I visited Granada for the second time. It was an obligatory trip this semester, so I had already paid for it with tuition. Not wanting to miss a chance at a weekend outside of Seville, but also in one of the most breathtaking cities in Spain, of course I went.

We did practically the same trip that I had done in the fall – the Capilla Real, the Arabic quarter and the Alhambra. It was a gorgeous weekend with 65-70 degree weather and sunshine.

Something that I hadn’t expected, or realized until there was how much things had changed since the last time I had visited.

During fall semester, my hotel roommate and I visited a churros cafe in town for some churros and chocolate. Over the super delicious meal, we got in the conversations of fear of abroad. In September, I was worried about fitting in, plans for my break and of course my grandfathers health. In that café, over the sweet churros, I cried to her about how scared I was that he would die while I was abroad.

This was one of the only moments on the Granada trip in the fall that had been ‘down’. The rest of the trip was filled with wonder, magic and delicious pastries.

And I never remembered that specific moment in that café, crying - until I walked past that café this weekend. With the site of the café, the rush of emotions and memories resurfaced. As I walked through the rest of Granada, remembering my feelings the first time I was there, I couldn’t help but laugh cry at how radically everything had changed in just five months from my last trip.

I have a multitude of events, occasions and celebrations.

Five months ago I hadn’t visited France, Germany, Austria or the Czech Republic. I hadn’t survived without my family for the first Christmas alone. I hadn’t known the feeling of catching three metros in the right direction to get to a hostel or how good it would feel to step back into the arms of my host mother.

This weekend, Granada supplied me more than the breathtaking views of the city, delicious food and wonderful company. But more importantly, it gave me an opportunity to remember, reflect and look forward. Because the next time I visit the enchanting streets of Granada, I will be surrounded with my family, bathing in the warmth of the April sun.