Our upcoming European trip will be different on two fronts. First, we’re going for the longest stretch for one excursion: almost six weeks, give or take. Secondly, “excursion” is a misnomer. For we’re going to spend all this time in a place we’ve already been to and had extended our stay once we got there. This time, we’ll be expanding our horizons form “living like the locals” to “escaping to our summer home.”

Yes, it is possible this extended stay will run its course, and we’ll break up with Rota, telling her we want to start seeing other places.

Never mind it’s not a house in the Hamptons with two solariums and horses named Snoopy and Prickly Pete. Nor is it a cabin in the woods with fishing and a fireplace. But we have come to treat this little hidden gem as a second home. When we left it last April, we weren’t the least bit sad, because we knew we’d be coming back. And this week, our trek back begins.

Yes, it is possible this extended stay will run its course, and we’ll break up with Rota, telling her we want to start seeing other places. Maybe we will have grown tired of the quaint, quiet and narrow streets winding past charming shops, bakeries and cafes. We might also grow tired of the mile long stretch of the Atlantic Ocean and the spotless expanse of nearly uninhabited beach. (Although the photos of this beach in summer looks more like Wildwood or Santa Monica than the Andalucian Coast.) The beachfront cafes and restaurants could become so mundane with their Mojito Cubanas and thick Wagyu Cheeseburgers in Paradise and their uninhibited views of magnificent sunsets. The long walks along the broad, blue and white-tiled promenade might seem boring after several more weeks of it. We could find that languid afternoons on our tiled patio or rooftop deck with a chilled local chardonnay and charcuterie will fill us with ennui as the days and nights melt away. Our tastebuds could experience a malaise from the fresh baked breads, pastries, the farm fresh vegetables and off the vine tomatoes and seafood from that days catch and…

Yes, I do go on, but you get the idea. There is no way in hell we’re going to grow tired of this place, unless we’ve grown tired of ourselves or life itself. Our continuing hope is that it remains in its current undiscovered and relatively pristine state, which is why I’m confining descriptions of the place to this blog. Hah!

Seriously, though, we do believe we have found a little patch of paradise in Rota, Spain. I’ve been in semi-immersive Spanish lessons for the past four months (daily Duolingo plus two different Spanish tutors for a total of six hours of zoom classes per week) that has filled me with the anticipation of confidently asking, “¿Hablas ingles, por favor?” each and every day that we’ll be there. (But as Carol says, “you never talk to anybody in English, why should you sweat not being able to speak Spanish to anyone?” She makes a good point.)

I’ll close with simply saying to my ones of fans, the blog is back, baby! But I’d be remiss for not using this space to hawk my comic novel, A Roomful of Monkeys, the sales of which have inspired two completed full-length sequels and a good bite on a fourth. Okay, I’m writing these in spite of the sales of Roomful, not because of them. But still…

P.S. Still looking for beta readers for the new manuscripts. PM me if interested.