Spain
While exploring the Montjuic Castle overlooking the harbour of Barcelona, I’m drawn to the haunting Spanish music near an outdoor café.
The curly-haired singer with a goatee makes his guitar produce melodic sounds I have not heard before.
I can’t help but close my eyes and sway.
At the end of the song, I wander to the outdoor, self-serve café, pick up a couple of postcards and some chocolate cookies, and order a large café con leche.
It’s an autumn Sunday, so the crowd is a nice mix of tourists and locals.
Though there are some seats at the tables, I opt to take my coffee and sit on the stone steps in the shade.
The musician’s mastery brings out the best of everyone and soon a few people are dancing on the cobblestones.
Even the birds in the tree canopies join in with their chirps and croaks.
I’m in Barcelona, sitting on stone steps built in the 1600s, sipping my café con leche, listening to a master musician play his Spanish magic.
I want this moment etched in my mind for all my days.
