Leapless

Puerta Real, Granada

Looking at my calendar propped up on the crooked little shelf above my desk, I see I have neglected to cross off the past few days. It’s March now which means I’ve been in Spain for almost eight weeks. Almost two months. Almost one-third of my semester here.

It’s hard to believe, really.

Spain, and more specifically Granada, is like no other place I’ve ever seen. 

The city is pungent with a flavor of history not well understood by those of us who spend years memorizing America’s youthful past and little time discussing the injustices of international religious persecution. As the final Muslim kingdom to submit to Christian conquerers, Granada is kind of a big deal -- and not just by European standards. It’s not a glamorous place, but the combination of Moorish, Jewish, and Christian influence clothes the city such a heavy and unique beauty that make other cities lackluster in comparison.

Seeing as my world at home is built around suburban cities, textbook examples of the urban sprawl phenomenon, living in Granada has opened my eyes to so much. The All-American microcosms where golden arches punctuate street corners and whole weekends are planned around masochistic sporting events are not near as attractive as I once thought them to be. Since arriving in Europe my world has both shrunk and expanded exponentially with every new place I go. Traveling is a dangerous addiction. Like some youthful fascination with all things different, the more I see, the more I want to see.

Clemson itself seems like worlds away, mostly because it is. And while there are things (and people!!) I miss, I am very happy experiencing something so new and different. It’s nice knowing, though, that Clemson and all it’s purple-and-orange-ness will be there when I return.