The long and winding walk down the hill.
The anticipation of what our B&B might be like.
Hunger pangs taking over my body.
Bougainvillea in a shade of magenta that looks photoshopped.
Views of the beach and the quirky houses on the descent.
The ocean waves making that familiar sound, like breath hitting the shore.
Rain puddling in the streets as we run into another tacky souvenir shop (that I love).
That smoky smell of paella cooking over an open fire. Tall men wearing “I ❤️ paella” t-shirts.
Brown crunchy paper atop the plastic table.
A child hitting a glass over and over with a spoon. A mother telling it to stop. A child hitting a glass with a plastic spoon again.
Freshly brewed coffee that just tastes better. A man hawking designer handbags.
Boiled octopus on the tastiest mashed potato that I have ever eaten. Ever.
British tourists ordering a bottle of rosé.
Groups of Spanish tourists laughing and speaking passionately about something we can’t understand.
Fresh sea air.
Black sand underneath my feet. My toes are finally happy.
Blue deck chairs under coconut umbrellas lined up like a chess game ready to
begin. Unused.
A tiny ship in the distance.
Prawn shells and heads lying limp on a plastic plate.
A banana split.
The time to enjoy it all.
And you.

But wait, there’s more…