Can you believe I actually admitted that?
It sounds ridiculous but let me explain why. I’m not afraid of being robbed, raped or beaten up – at least not physically. Spain is a bit of a sore spot for me and we did not leave on good terms in 2011.
In Spain I felt like a failure.
To be fair it was not the country’s fault. I was in a deep spiral of travel burnout. It came on strong while I was volunteering at Pueblo Ingles and then by the time I reached Seville I could barely get out of bed – even for food.
I had been traveling for 18 months and I was tired of it. But I was also afraid to admit to others that I couldn’t hack the nomad lifestyle, that I craved an apartment filled with things.
And yet there is a tiny part of me that remembers how bad things were in Spain. And that scares me. The good news is this time I’ll be in La Rioja and Costa Brava, a regions I’ve never visited but are known for wine and food. In fact, that’s exactly why I’m going to Costa Brava, to study the food culture for my first guide.
Looking back at the posts I can see the fragility in the writing and also the denial of what was really happening. If you’re looking to travel to Spain they’re still worthwhile, especially Pueblo Ingles.
My greatest fear
Choosing Street Art over Graffiti
Breaking my organ rule
Struggling in Seville – when I finalized realized I needed to go home
This will be different. I know it. I hope…