Late, but Finnaly, La Alberca Remembered

Time passes differently when you are taking a trip around the world. You of whom have sent me emails understand that all too well, with my horrid response time.

The same goes for those who participated in Pueblo Ingles with me, at La Alberca. I’ve been meaning to put up a post, complete with pictures, commentary, and expert analysis on this site for weeks. Now, a month and a long week since the end of the program, I got the will power and here you go. April 21-28th La Alberca.

22 Anglos, 22 Spaniards. The day I arrived, I was certain there would be no way I would remember everyone’s name by the end of the week.

Three days later, I knew many of you better than I knew some of my best friends.

That was what was amazing. How within one week, a group of people can share so much and grow so close. How, in all my traveling, I’ve never felt so close to the culture and the vibe of the country I am in. The Sevillana flamenco on the last night, I can’t explain what it meant to me in words. All I know is that I can travel around the world for the rest of my life, but I’ll never experience that feeling ever again. Now I truly understand what people mean when they say traveling is a once in a lifetime experience.

La Alberca was the bridge between the first month of my trip, which included family traveling and solo traveling, to the 2nd half, which was all group traveling. And though traveling around Spain, and settling in Granada has been fantastic, it hasn’t been the same. I don’t feel that same connection to the soul of Spain that I had up La Alberca.

Would I do it again? I would love to be back, on day one, and experience that week again, but, at the same time, I know that it was not an experience that can be recreated ever.

Those of you from La Alberca reading this, email me! One of the problems has been that La Alberca has a wrong email address down for me, a email I don’t check that frequently (I know, excuses, excuses). Others, I don’t have your email (or don’t know which of the many encoded addresses on the mass emails is yours).

To lose touch would be to lose a part of ourselves. I changed that weekend, I learned new things about myself and about humanity, some bad, but mostly good. I don’t want those memories to become nothing more than memories, fading with time.

The Sevillana sums it all up with this.

Don´t go away yet. Please don´t go away. Even my guitar is going to weep when saying goodbye to you. The ship is getting smaller as it goes away. And when it gets lost, how big is the solitude.