the grace of Paris lingering in my thoughts. . . Madrid’s grimy walls As our small group of students entered Madrid, it was an early morning in late January. We had left behind us what has been called the most beautiful city in the world, and I had been so enchanted by our two weeks in Paris with its many scenic attractions that my expectations for a semester in Madrid loomed equally high in my mind. Dismally, however, I watched Madrid’s dirty streets and walls come into view through a window of the train as we arrived at the place where we were taken by bus to the “residencia,” that place we would make our home for the next several months. I would be immersed in the culture of Spain, the country whose language and history I had studied diligently and enthusiastically throughout high school. Though my first impression of Madrid was not a good one, I very quickly adapted to this capital city in the center of of the Castilian plain. My fondness for the entire metropolis increased as I took daily walks to the stores, cafes, museums, parks and other places of amusement or of historical importance. Studying at the residencia was not the real education I was to receive, for the learning was not so much in the books as in the experience of going on excursions nearly every other weekend. We visited many regions of Spain and also of Portugal: the Pyrenees with their gorgeous verdancy, the beaches along the Mediterranean coast, and the vast southern region, La Mancha, where the legendary Don Quixote rode forth on his quest and where a sultan of Granada had built a palace for his many wives. We also enjoyed the burning of a multitude of papier-mâché “fallas” on the street corners of the city of Valencia as well as the colorful spring festival of Seville along with visits to castles, museums and cathedrals too numerous to name. We visited tiny insignificant places such as San Roque when we stayed at a convent before embarking on a small journey across the Strait of Gibraltar into the strange and wondrous land of Morocco. Too many were my experiences to discuss them all here unless I were to write a book! In our small group, some of us were given nicknames. Because I was the one and only student who seemed to be always trying to get everyone to “speak only Spanish” and because I was constantly taking pictures with my trusty Canon camera, I became known as “Miss Spain,” a name which I relished. I and my few closest friends would often wander off onto streets removed from the typical tourist’s route. The photos I took in these places are among my most treasured! uncaptured sounds, flavors and aromas. . . snapping photos In the end, it all came back to Madrid -that central capital city of a nation whose diversity I was able to happily experience for myself in those four short months I so eagerly lapped up. In Madrid I had also met a handsome Madrileño with whom I tried to practice my Spanish, stumbling my way through conversations with his friends and family. In early June, the time came for us to leave that great city. We would visit Rome, Athens and Jerusalem before returning to Paris and then England, our final stop before going back home. Indeed, it was to be the trip of my life, for I can not imagine such an opportunity ever coming my way again! When we left Madrid for our last time in early June, I was on the verge of really “getting” the Spanish language, so I felt heartsick to have to leave so soon. Not one other person in my group seemed to share the melancholy of “Miss Spain” as she sat at the back of the bus looking back at the figure of her boyfriend fading away forever with the streets of Madrid. friends’ happy chatter as the bus pulls away . . . my guy waving bye Aug. 21, 2017 for Deb Guzzi's Haibun Contest