I will miss the deep darkness not being in town, and the amazingly loud and chatty sparrows. I'll miss the low, steep mountains and their days of mist so thick you can't see anything out the window. I'll miss the herb garden where I planted lettuces we don't have in Texas. I'll miss the army of old men, out and about from morning till night, socializing, flirting, drinking a little and generally being charming. I'll miss being a pedestrian. Every year I get worse about discipline in my use of the car. I hope this trip helps. I'll miss Ruth, my fast friend, yoga teacher and very silly partner in crime. Scrumping! I'll miss the quiet in the house, where either I'm alone or with hard-working writers. At least I think they are. I'll miss stopping by people's houses for a few minutes and not leaving for another 8 hours. I'll miss Spotify, and their funny ads, where they pronounce Spotify "Ehspotify". I'll miss the olive and almond trees. When I got here the first almond blossoms were coming out and now the almonds are huge, but won't be ready to harvest until after I leave. I'm not taking it personally.
I'll miss the dramatic, steep-sided grey stone peaks, and the low clouds that envelop them in mist so beautifully. I'll miss the roosters, the sheep and the goats. I'll definitely miss the sound of the goats' bells as they (sort of) hurry up home at dusk. I'll miss the local avocados, which Ruth orders by calling a friend instead of going to the store. I'll also miss her "Mailbox Chapatis" and kitten farm. There's too much to miss about Ruth to list here. I'll miss the stars, of course - back to my light polluted city. I'll miss taking the bus and basking in the neighborhood gossip and news on the way to Malaga. I'll miss being able to take a train anywhere I want to go.
I'll miss greeting new writers and getting to know them sometimes more, sometimes less. I'll miss taking the goat track to town, with the barnyard at the end. I'll miss hunting for petrified almonds on steep slopes of red dirt. I'll miss taking my camera with me everywhere because there's always something to photograph. I'll miss the Bar Niza in Velez Malaga and it's incomparable charm.
I'll miss being remote. I'll miss being more or less anonymous. I'll miss the donkeys and the characters who own them. I'll miss seeing people till soil with a plow. I'll miss seeing horses along the road. I'll miss explaining what a pretzel is to my well-traveled friends. I'll miss the fresh seafood - the enthusiasm over squid and octopus of every size and type. I'll miss the small, Pancake-sized glasses of wine. I'll miss being 7 hours ahead of Texas - I've gotten used to getting the news first. I'll miss breakfasts in bars. I'll miss olive oil being more prevalent than any other oil. I'll miss the career waiters and bartenders, who are not only cool and friendly but really, genuinely, insured and paid decently. I'll miss the relaxed faces and soft eyes. Back to stressed jaw lines and somewhat harder smiles.
I'll miss that no one even mentioned Bin Laden's death. I'll miss the absence of debates over evolution and gay marriage. I'll miss having political discussions where everyone in the discussion bases their point of view on actual facts, rather than fantasy. I'll miss blogging about Spain. I'll miss having no plans. I'll miss the rush hour that lasts ten minutes. I'll miss Europe's more logical mind. I'll really miss people saying, "Yes! Exactly! I totally agree with you!" It's like music...
I'll miss the fields of artichoke and endless orange groves. I'll miss the scent of orange blossoms, for sure. I'll miss people waving as they pass in cars, and always saying hello on the street. I'll miss the carnations. I'll even miss the dog barking right now. I'll miss having white bread, pasta, wine and coffee as if that's normal. I will miss looking at the calendar and having months left to be here. I'll miss buying local olive oil sold in recycled (read: used) plastic water bottles. I'll miss not having to explain myself for wasting time.
I'll miss the "Lookie Lookie Woman" who pushes local produce on everyone who walks up her street or runs into her while walking around. I've never felt so much pressure to buy so much that I already wanted in the first place :) I'll miss the old man who also has a shop in Comares who always throws in a little something for free, and whose place I'd love to take when he retires. I'll miss the supermarket that's barely larger than a convenience store and somehow supplies a village. I'm sure there's more - things I've gotten so used to I won't notice till I'm gone. Just wanted to get a few things down before it's too late!
