The train is slowing down, clearly pulling into a station where some people will disembark, but I mostly ignore it, because its too soon, we are not supposed to be arriving in Granada for another 30 minutes. And we’re not ready, we are still in the dining car, just having finished breakfast. Our stuff isn’t packed up. I haven’t spent the last few minutes anticipating our arrival to this place I knew 20 years ago, and letting the excitement build the way it does on Christmas Eve when you know the next day is Christmas. But no, Tyler points out, the signs outside say “Granada”. We are here, and it’s time to get off the train.
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AuthorMother, wife, previous and current Spain-dweller, excited to back here again. Archives
July 2015
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