an american in spain

never have i felt such an awe-struck wonder mixed with social apprehension.

while i may not have moved to paris to become a painter, today i most assuredly feel like an american in málaga: an ode to my ever apparent blonde hair/blue eyed genetics.

we took off for the city today in search of el museo picasso. we’re apparently both inept map readers with an internal compass that is too jet lagged to point due north. instead we (per my request) explored the street market where i found, what i believe to be, my best purchase of the calendar year*, a made-by-hand-in-spain-leather-satchel-purse (a surprisingly long title for the price tag to read, i thought). we also happened upon the city’s ancient roman theatre – a sight to knock no doubt both your shoes and socks off (in a city that’s better not to be barefoot in). but we’ll explore that another day. (literally and figuratively).

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