I think it’s rare in this world to feel so purely at home in somewhere across the globe from where you were born. I think it’s rare, and I also think it’s remarkable. The small city of Granada, Spain evokes that feeling of home so deep inside myself that I can’t separate my soul from the city. Granada is a place of history, of modernity, of bulls, of endless glasses of wine, and of exploration. Upon arriving in the city, I was a sweaty pile of trembles and nerves, but after only a few hours in this astounding place, I felt I could do anything. I could profess myself in a foreign language, I could get lost on the cobblestone, I could walk into the flashing light of a nightclub and be entirely unafraid.
Los Cohorros, a place of tree-covered bluffs and winding green trails right outside of Granada and near the tiny village of Monachil, is the only place I have felt so utterly empowered to be the adventurer I had always felt growing inside me. The surrounding mountains towered over me, surrounding me in vines, apricots, and shadows. I had never felt so small, and I’d never felt so strong. As I came to a slender bridge, the same fear I’d felt stepping off the plane crawled back into my stomach. The bridge swung in the light wind, the old wood appearing soggy, like someone had fished the boards from the sea and threaded them together. The backpack hanging from my shoulders suddenly felt like it was packed with stones. I gripped the posts, my feet drilled into the ground. I stared at the bridge with such contempt, such fear. But I looked up, seeing the wide Spanish sky spread out above me like a painting. I breathed in the olive Spanish air and I knew who I was supposed to be. In that moment I knew who I was: a traveler, a curious voyager, an unafraid endurer. Suddenly I didn’t need the guide ahead of me or my friends behind me; all I needed was my own clenched fist and this bridge.
Coming from a small town, world travel isn’t high on the priority list. Everyone graduates from high school, heads to college, and comes running right back home. My passion for new places and new people made me the outsider, the eccentric girl with an eccentric goal. I know now that being who I am, being curious and courageous and accepting that home isn’t always the place that you were born, isn’t only okay, it’s important.
I don’t think I was brave for crossing that bridge in Los Cohorros. I think crossing that bridge was only the beginning in the ways that Granada transformed me. Spain made me stronger. It shoved and kicked and forced me outside of my comfort zone. And after, it comforted me. It held on to me so tightly that by the end of my stay, I didn’t know how to separate myself from the place that let me discover myself, my curiosity, my bravery. I don’t know how to repay such a place, but I’ll spend my life being brave for Granada’s sake.
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