“I’m lucky”. That’s all I could say for the past four days.
I’ve been to Spain once before, six years ago to study in Cadiz. That same summer, the teacher who helped organize the trip asked if I would like to host the daughter of a Spanish friend of her’s for a week. My parents agreed and we hosted Alma.
In a purely serendipitous moment I sent a message to Alma saying that I was in Guaro, outside of Malaga, working on a smelly farm without a shower. I told Alma before I left China that I might make it to Spain and she told me we should try to see each other if I did but she would be in London for three weeks. I wholly believed she was in London when I sent that message but by the grace of God, she was in her car on her way to Malaga. By the powers of Facebook she read my message immediately after I sent it and she invited me to join her at the beach for a few days. I grabbed the bus without so much as asking who she was with. I imagined she was with friends but I was delighted to meet her amazing parents. Alma met me at the station and I recognized her immediately. Strange how that can happen after six years.
The rest of the time was filled with showers, good food, showers, the beach, showerers, spanish conversations, and SHOWERS.
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