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 Bruno and I living in a house in France right now… and our differences our coming out! Bruno can’t wait to be back inside his home-on-wheels, while I’m soaking up the comfort, luxury, and routine of domestic life. Will Bruno survive an extended stay in a house? Will I ever want to hit the road again?    
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 I think I’ve finally realized that Bruno and I are unreliable plan-makers. Actually, let me rephrase that: You can absolutely depend upon us to make – and then change – our plans. Here’s the story of why we could be spotted last month speeding up the Mediterranean Coast of Spain instead of sipping sangria and chillin’ on the beach.  Tapas, paella, tortilla… these were the notions I had of Spanish food upon entering the country last October. After two visits that totaled three months, it’s pretty well still these three food items I know upon. Read on to discover why I had so much trouble deepening my grasp of Spain’s gastronomic story.
 Every once in a while, without even knowing it, you turn up in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. This post, about Spain’s Holy Week and its religious processions, is the story of one of those times.  Our time in Spain’s infamous region of Andalucía may not have included bullfighting in Seville, the mighty Alhambra in Granada, or sunbathing along the Costa del Sol (though it did involve witnessing a flamenco performance, visiting the Picasso Museum, and wandering around a few pueblos blancos), but it was an apt and honest portrait of the great, average, and less-than-amazing moments that traveling full-time around the world involves. |
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