The other day I checked my daily diary on this trip and there are a lot of missing entries. I’m so happy. You see, this whole return to Rota was all about living the local life here. If my notes were filled with the events of every day, then this would only be just another vacation that no one besides Carol and I would care to hear about – filled with chronicles of cathedrals seen, castles climbed and tales of getting ripped off by taxi cab drivers.

 Settling in comes easy here 

  Instead, my lack of notes suggests we’re not on any vacation but are instead totally arrived at home here in Rota, Spain. Now, there are those who would ask, what’s the point of going all the way to Spain to just live like you do back at home?

  Well…

  I don’t know is the short answer. I’m not sure why traveling overseas just to replicate the life back at the home I’m trying to leave, where everything is familiar to go to a foreign country where almost nothing is – especially the language – makes any sense. But I’ll give it a shot.

“The only stress is to get back home to make a ham and cheese sandwich in time for the cheese to still melt from the heat of the baguette.”

  The things you do at home are the things you do to live your daily life. Who cares about that? But what about suddenly doing them where…

  Okay, that’s not going to get it. All right, suppose doing everyday things in a non-everyday place…

  Better. But I think what actually explains it is that doing everyday things in a non-everyday place elevates those everyday things and makes them all special. For example, on our first day in Rota, we need coffee and breakfast just like we do at home. But you don’t have it. What to do? 

  A few hundred-foot walk from your apartment is a cafe serving fresh brewed cafe con leche and a warm butter croissant, where you can sit in a bespoke wicker chair and cheerfully watch the locals go about their ordinary day.

 Breakfast is just around the corner

It gets better for lunch. There’s a bakery about a ten minute walk away on a narrow street of paving stones – pedestrian only – that has never failed to provide you with a pair of baguettes that are still hot to the touch. The only stress is to get back home to make a ham and cheese sandwich in time for the cheese to still melt from the heat of the baguette.

  And then there’s dinner. You spend the afternoon perusing several “alimentaciones” for fresh vegetables, meat or fish for your entre. In the process, you’ve walked more than your normally scheduled daily miles back at home, yet you’re not even aware you’ve done that.

  The kiss me corner -if you can translate it – means you’re a local. 

That night you sit quietly, as a comforting fatigue envelops you, the result of all the unplanned exercise you gave yourself that day. You reflect on how the day was really no different from any other you had back home. You think: well, what am I going to have for breakfast tomorrow?

   And you realize you have no idea what breakfast might be until you wake up. That’s what traveling to somewhere where you can live just like you do at home means. 

  It means the world.