In my mind, the misty end to our bus ride when we arrived at the parking lot near Toledo, promised to be magical. We disembarked from the bus, rode the escalator up the covered space along the wall of the Alcázar, then climbed a bunch of steps to finally get to the street level of the once-walled city of Toledo. When we walked across a road and around a corner to the plaza, I saw that it was surrounded by buildings that had been there for centuries.

In mid-October, ’24, we flew to Madrid for a ten-week tour of Spain in a rental car. Last year, we flew into Madrid with our daughter and son-in-law as a hub for a five-week tour to see some of Spain’s great cities: Barcelona, Zaragoza, Valencia, Cartagena, Granada, Sevilla, Cádiz, and then a dip into Portugal for a week in Lisbon. This year, we wanted to see more of the country we didn’t have time for last year, making central Madrid our starting point once again.

Chet and I drove into Boise City, Oklahoma, population of 1,142, yesterday afternoon with plenty of time to nap and have a nice happy hour. However, finding a campground, which showed many on the google map, turned out to be difficult. There were only two in town, both tiny, and one was full.

“She was frightened of me at first, until I mentioned that I’d seen her at the dinner tent in El Cameron the night before, and the realization dawned on her who I was. I could see that she also realized how much help I might be to her because she gave me a hug as if we were long-lost friends.”

She froze. Two women dashed toward the girl and grabbed her arms pulling her toward the group. I could see the women scolding her as if she were a child and then came the tears. The women put their arms around the girl to soothe her or to hide her, I wasn't sure, but before I could assess the true situation the men came back with a couple of blue vans, and they all piled in and drove away.

The women were plain of face with dull brown hair under their caps and some carried babies of various ages. But one young woman was pregnant and looked nothing like the others. She was naturally pretty with a peachy complexion, blonde hair, and big, blue eyes. She seemed to be looking for something. Without turning her head conspicuously, her gaze was darting about almost frantically.

Suddenly we heard loud clomping - rat-a-tat-tatting - and soon a tallish, very slender man dressed in black tight pants, a blousy purple shirt and a green silky scarf around his neck came stomping out in his heeled dancing shoes. The four of us were not only startled by the sudden loud noise but were surprised that the dancer was a man, and not a woman in a red dress as we had expected.

Our trip from Valencia to Granada in the rental car was freeing and amazing. Freeing because we could go anywhere, instead of being stuck in a train to only go where the schedule took us. And it was amazing because we could see areas beyond the windows of the trains we rode. In the trains, we had to go through tunnels, under bridges, past towns, and the seaside with limited scopes of seeing what we passed from the faster speeds and landscapes that whizzed by in a blur.

Most people are familiar with the song Castles in the Sky by Ian Van Dahl, about life and dreams, but what about real castles that reach up to the sky? Ever wonder why they were built so high above everything else? Or do you assume it’s because the king wanted to be far above his lowly kingdom to rule over it and make the minions remember his point of power and placement above all others?

The flavors exploded in my mouth as I chewed. The spices were unusual and indistinguishable because they were blended so well, which made the taste go far beyond the expected flavors I was used to on grilled beef. I was in love with the food and the restaurant. Toward the end of our meal, and after our second gin drink with cardamom and lemon, we were served a wonderful, melt-in-your-mouth cheesecake that was unlike any cheesecake I had experienced, and I love cheesecake. An extraordinary meal.

Who of us would have even known the date of the Chinese New Year, let alone the possibility of a festival in its honor being held in Valencia, Spain, and right near the train station? None of us, for certain. Nor did Rachel and Rex, who were totally unaware of the goings on just a few blocks from where they sat waiting.

Most of the Spaniards and Europeans seemed to know exactly what looked good on them. But then the ‘what-to wear’ decision was eased because all wore black, dark browns, or dark grays. And what they wore was well thought out, well-pressed, and tailored with few frills. The women wore black pantyhose with skirts that were above-the-knee or longer, or slim pants above the ankle with heels.

I’ve wanted to know if people in Spain even celebrated Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t sure if the day was only big in North America and not significant worldwide. Because in the States, several weeks before February 14th, we see billboards and signs all over storefront windows advertising the fact that businesses have something special for a loved one. Almost like at Christmas time. However, during our travels in Spain, as the day approached, I only saw one sign depicting the traditional symbol of the day: the heart.

I was fascinated by the haphazard way the streets came together and then veered off to what first looked like a cul-de-sac-like end, but, instead, continued around a sharp or curvy corner to yet another alleyway at a different angle. It was like a maze of stucco, or whatever material the buildings were faced with, and each alley had its own personality.

One of our heart-stopping Mexico adventures was when we decided to stay a night not far from the growing town of Bacalar, located on the lagoon side on the southern end of the coastal state of Quintana Roo, which is on the Caribbean side of the Yucatan Peninsula.

My husband Marty, our daughter Bella, and I had been traveling in our pick-up truck pulling our tiny RV along the southern coast of Mexico for a few weeks and had just come into Quintana Roo. We needed a place to stay for the night. In our ‘RVing in Mexico’ guidebook, we read about an RV park located down a dirt road just before Bacalar that had been dubbed ‘The Goat Farm’.

"I thought that because both my wallet and phone were still missing, it was likely a somebody, not something, stole my things, and that made me feel very ill.”

“And so, when I heard a noise that woke me up, knowing that a bomb could go off and Clark wouldn’t hear it, I slowly opened my eyes to look around and was startled to see this huge man silhouetted in front of our opened patio doors.”

Nobody, to my knowledge, ever said that birth of anything was easy: birth of a nation, birth of spring, childbirth, for example, and so, from the weather we’d been seeing on the days prior to the first day of spring this year, it was no surprise that this birth was to be a difficult one.