I didn’t feel like I would be doing Spain any justice if I were to capture it in black & white.

Barcelona was the first city we arrived in, and oh, quite the arrival it was. French, German, English, Spanish and Russian bounced off of the tall buildings and slipped through the narrow alleys. Colorfully woven tablecloths, guacamole, and mojitos were placed in front of us like we were goddesses (well, I guess that’s at least how I felt). We swam in salt water, felt soft sand in between our toes, and enjoyed iced beverages. Sangria poured out of glass jugs and tapas were consumed. Though New York is considered the city that never sleeps, the party doesn’t start in Barcelona until 2 o’clock in the morning. There’s a better understanding of the afternoon siesta when dinner isn’t eaten until 10 pm or later. Even in the morning, sunlight doesn’t drip in from the sky until it’s overhead because the buildings are stacked and packed so closely together. Functioning on delicious food and cool sweet wine, myself and two lovely ladies enjoyed the sites of Barcelona including La Sagrada Família, Park Güell, food markets, and an enticing barrio block party.

The next stop was Granada. Moving inland and farther West, the heat rose, but the smaller city was filled with friendly, sociable travelers. El Alhambra sat up on the hill–an ancient Moorish fortress and palace. Lush gardens, koi ponds and fountains spotted the grounds. Like stars in a night sky void of light pollution, colors, geometric shapes and patterns filled the walls. Fernando and Isabel lay in the structurally beautiful mausoleum, white and untouched. Late in the evening, flamenco danced its way onto the stage with sorrow, love and passion.

Granada rolled into Seville and Granada seemed like an oasis in comparison. Hot and humid, cold beers and air conditioning were solace. We awoke early enough in the morning to visit Giralda, the Cathedral that supposedly houses the remains of Christopher Columbus, and Alcázar, another Moorish palace.

Escaping the heat of Seville, our last stop was Madrid. El Parque de Buen Retiro gave us an afternoon of shade and wine-drinking. We were able to see works of Picasso, Goya, Dalí, and other famous Spanish painters at the Reina Sofia and Museo del Prado. Guernica stood out as a prime representation of the Spanish Civil War.

The trip finished where it started: on the beach of Barcelona with little sleep and a half smile of what lies behind and what comes next. Eventually I’ll go back, if nothing else to enjoy the oranges and taking things slow, sangria in hand.