the short goodbye

I'm back, a bit hazy from jet lag, more than a little bummed about spending another three weeks without Melissa, recuperating for a day before returning to classes.

The visit was too, too brief, but quite lovely while it lasted. We dallied in Úbeda, Jaén, and Baeza, logging miles on foot and hours on autobuses. I'll post photos as soon as Melissa uploads them.

The way it ended Monday, though, was almost a cliché: the taxi driver, supposed to show at seis menos diez--six minus ten, or 5:50--had the time written down as "6-10," which meant we scrambled frenetically for twenty minutes, Melissa trying to find the number to the company while I stood nervously by the apartment looking for too infrequent headlights.

A frantic embrace and quick tearful kisses when the taxi finally arrived at 6:11, and I threw my luggage in the back seat, buckled up, and clutched the armrest as the taxi rocketed down Úbeda narrow, and thankfully empty, streets. We drove "como el viento" (the driver's words), passing everyone, screeching into the train station at Linares with five minutes to spare. I'm pretty sure I lost my cheap sunglasses in the process, the second pair in two weeks.

There's much more to tell, but I'll save it for when I'm a little more awake and have photos to spice up the narrative. Hasta pronto.