it is the moments, really

It is the moments. No; it is the unexpected moments. The conversations with people from all over the world. Talk of all-night parties in Croatia, of being a street performer in Malaga, of squats in Barcelona where they listen to 80s music and have house meetings. It is the café you accidently enter that happens to be the best café you have ever been too. Unusual landscape photography on the walls, books on a spiral staircase that leads to nowhere, the quirky seats and a swing for a chair. Food that tastes like it comes from my friend's kitchen and every drink served in a different mug - Café con Libros, big shout out to you. It is the travelers you meet that soon you will be joining. You suggest Cadiz, the carnaval, the carnaval! "yeah, sounds good, I have a friend there we can maybe leave our bags there and fiesta all night long".

Days drift by in Malaga in a bit of a haze. I treat myself to breakfast each morning and long languid dinners in the evening with a book and vino tinto in a charming red-walled tapas bar. The last night Flamenco steals my heart. Her singing rips your heart out and you are not watching, but feeling. The stomping, the clapping, the swirling and compelling dance – it is the fiery passion of flamenco.

Then the three of us are on the train to Cadiz. We make the train by about three minutes. It is true, if you don't worry about things then everything seems to fall into place, and if it doesn't we're not too worried so it doesn't matter any way.

Flow. Cruise. Groove. Be.