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So I've left Spain. But not without some drama first.

I bused backed to Madrid from Barcelona. Made it the whole way just fine, until I walked towards the subway and realized, "shit, I don't have my bag".

I ran back to the spot where the bus was parked, only it was empty and the bus was gone. My heart stopped. I had to be at the airport in two days, and my passport was in that bag. Not to mention all my clothes. All but the ones I had on.

I panicked, but didn't shut down, somehow. I spoke to a dozen people. I called, I emailed, I went desk to desk explaining the same story in both English AND Spanish.

Remember that thing I said about garbage service in Spain? Well it was kind of the same thing. Of the 8 people I spoke to, maybe 2 were actually helpful.

One of the lost and found guys took down my number. Said I'd have my bag by the end of the day. Sure enough, one stop before my hostel, I get a phone call, "we have your bag".

So I subway back to where I came from, the bus station, and there it was. Untouched, unscathed. The relief was palatable. I felt my nervous system change. Scared and frantic, to grateful and calm.

How could that have happened? I really don't know. I'm so used to just walking around with the small bag now, it didn't even cross my mind until I realized I shouldn't be walking so light. My excuse: it's mercury retrograde.

I caught up with Sean at the hostel. Got settled and he treated me to sangria and dinner because I had a long stressful day.

The following day, we did the Crystal Palace. Something we weren't able to do before because it was closed down. A child had died there just a week or two before. A branch had fallen on them, and the family insisted every tree be checked so it didn't happen again. What are the odds though? That was either really bad luck or just meant to be. Sorry. That's probably a bit insensitive. But not completely off base.

We walked in the pouring rain sharing a tiny pink umbrella. Got to the place, only to find out it's basically a glorified green house…. and it was closed.

We walked to the next closest place, a museum of some kind. Maybe a gallery. Full of art I could recreate in my sleep. I've seen better art on instagram. Sometimes I just don't understand how some people qualify as "artists", when what they do can be done by a 10 year old.

Because Sean had bought me dinner the night before, I decided to try my hand at making dinner. It actually went really well. I made Quesadilla's and taught him how to make guac..(amole). It was actually really, really good. And everyone that walked by looked at it wantingly. We did a good job.

Today we got up early to get to the airport. I didn't check in online and had to shell out 55 euro so they could check me in at the desk. That's 20 euro more than what the ticket cost me. I was not happy.

But I'm on the plane now. Flying to Morocco. A country I've never been, in a continent I never thought I'd reach. I'm nervous, but so, SO excited. We'll meet up with Haley. Have plans to camel ride in the desert. I can't wait. Aside from the way they're reputed to treat women. Don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I guess we'll see, won't we.

I've slowed down on my communications. With my friends. My family. My blog.

I kind of just want to enjoy myself, rest, relax, not look at my phone. Enjoy my time alone. You know?

It's not you, it's me. Part tired, part lazy. Still kind of sick, actually.

But otherwise good. Very good.

All my love,

P.S. Sorry for the lack of pictures. I realize now how many things I should have photographed but didn't. I'll do better with the next post!