|We thought we were tired in 2015!|
|Hasta luego, Sevilla.|
It was scary and exciting to drive the car straight into an elevator in the hotel garage.
|Susie's route sent us through |
Talavera de la Reina,
home of fine ceramics.
We made it in plenty of time, relaxed and still on a Manolo high, to regale my Spanish friend with the first account of our trip of a lifetime. My friend is from Valencia, so of course he asked what we'd seen in his hometown.
"Manolo García," I said. "We had no time for anything else!"
My friend took us to a traditional Madrid eatery, where we enjoyed various tapas and larger plates, my friend practiced his English, and Stanley learned a lot about a Spaniard's point of view and my life before I met Stanley.
Afterward, Stanley said, "He's a nice guy."
"Yes," I answered, self-satisfied. "I didn't always date jerks." Stanley was, of course, the ultimate proof of that.
Sad section (skip if you desire)
Throughout the dinner, Stanley had a nagging, dry cough. "Allergies," he claimed so my friend wouldn't recoil in horror. Because Stanley never lied to me, I even believed the allergy excuse to some extent, telling a lady at the airport the next day who was constantly blowing her nose that my husband had them really bad this year, too. And so my true love's quiet distress was folded into the bizarre new reality I mentioned in previous posts.
I asked why he hadn't eaten much at the delicious tapas dinner, and Stanley said it tasted weird—way too salty. I said I thought it had the normal salt level of cured meats. He was a salt lover, so the comment was even more bizarre. Food never tasted right to him again.
End sad section, although it's always sad to leave Spain.
|T4, Adolfo Suárez Madrid-Barajas never looks as cheery on the way back.|
|The collage we made together includes photos, our VIP wristbands, a map |
of Sevilla, and our Metro card from Valencia, which won a major design prize.
"Yes," I said, because it was the honest truth. None of it would've happened if Stanley hadn't insisted I write to tell my story. "Have I thanked you?" I had, of course, but it was never enough to match my gratitude. True love creates an upward spiral of wonderful things.
Catch up with the rest of the posts in this series here.