Boots of Spanish Leather

Spain...España. The country of Mediterranean coasts, Don Quixote and The Alhambra; Night life with dinner or La Cena never before 10PM; Flamenco and a modern-day foodie ground zero paradise of Tapas, Paella and Jamón de Trevelez. Running Bulls and decadent deserts; Cities and low sun-yellowed mountains with sage chaparral; Matador de Toros y corrida de toros. 

A lifetime would not be enough. 

I have been three times in my life to Spain. My memories are nothing short of fantastical and almost cinematic in their expanse of dream like settings of city and countryside. Desert meets low shrubs and terra cotta roofs; olive trees and steak restaurants at old ranches. Ancient cities with jigsaw streets and night-lit gothic cathedrals. Small neon bars with old men having jamón y huevos at midnight and drinking café con crema. Who needs Paris, London or Rome, even, when this is all there in the multi-cultural destination that is Spain?

I have a friend who is traveling to Spain today and he has asked me to drive him to the airport. Me being the friend I am said of course and we're even leaving early enough to grab a bite nearby before his check-in. I'm envious of his travels, if for nothing else than to just soak in the vibe and lifestyle that I found so many years ago while in the country. At a time while already living in the heart of the European continent, I found myself being dispatched to even more disparate and captivating places. I have always, when asked where I would want to return to, said first and foremost the Iberian peninsula. Words fail me to accurately describe the visual and sensory experience that was in my time there. I really envy my friend.  Did I mention that already? 

Crossing 5 time zones and the North Atlantic the flight route will take him over the islands of the Azores, landfall at Portugal and into Spain and finally down to Madrid. Roughly 9 hours total overnight travel time consisting of a light dinner, a movie, some snooze and a wakeup prior to approach into the Adolfo Suárez Madrid–Barajas Airport. All through the night. Amazing to think, by way of comparison, that when the first Spanish explorers of the new world in the 16th century set out 450 years ago to come this way and discover the west the journey took months at sea and survival against the elements. A good half or more of them didn't even make it and gave in to disease or weather. 450 years from now will we even still need to physically travel at all any more ?

The world is certainly a smaller place than once was.

How far do you have to travel these days to feel like you've "been somewhere"? Leaving my hometown I can drive for at least 5 hours in any direction of the compass rose and with the exception of some low mountains or oceans it all remains relatively the same. Main St USA and all your favorite stores on every corner. How far before the change really comes and starts to appear? Where is that elusive line of "there" and no longer "here"? 

I digress.

Spain has long evoked images and thoughts of a distant and foreign land to poets and writers and dreamers alike with its vast cultural landscapes and warm climate escapist lifestyles. I choose to believe that when Bob Dylan wrote his song of unrequited love and the longings of the heart for one who has travelled away from life and presence, that he turned his thoughts to distant yet romantic Spain as the destination. All the mournful subject of the song ever wanted was for her to "return unspoiled" or unchanged by her travels and remain as who she was before. When he realizes that she isn't likely to return after all he settles for some boots made of fine Spanish leather instead to possibly walk in and move on towards whats next for him. Thats my interpretation anyway. 

Take a listen to the link below and as you hear him sing the story see if you can imagine someone you long for strolling the far away alleyways and market shops of old Madrid; the Tubes of Zaragoza; the hills of Catalonia; the sunny coastal surf of Valencia and the halls of the Alhambra while they remember, only somewhat, of the life that was left behind. 

One day that might just be me sailing away. 

https://vimeo.com/20204690

Hal