So much of who we are is where we have been. – William Langewiesche

Rota, Spain. It is one of those places I can close my eyes, listen to the sounds of Sevillana music, smell the bread coming from the local panaderias, and know my street because of the aromatic scent of rosemary. Toes in the sand, with the clip clop of horses in the distance and I will tell you…I am home.

We fell into southern Spain with open arms. It was our home thirty years ago. We embraced the simplicity of life, the mild climate, and the vibrant culture that suited us to a T. On our return to Spain last summer, we discovered our trip coincided with La Feria. The annual Spring Fair, a week brimming with the celebration of Andalusian culture.

With Ann-Christine’s inspiration, welcome back to La Feria with me. To get there we meander the tiny white-washed streets,

…with the music and lights as our beacon.

The dancing goes on late into the night and through the weekend.

And tapas…of course are a necessity. Pinchito.

The following week life just goes on in the village. The gypsy market is open every Wednesday and there is always time for churros and chocolate on a cold day, and lemony ice cream on a hot day.

We learn the Spanish Ceramica has become a lost tradition. Years ago I could purchase plates, bowls and platters for a few pesetas. These days they are hundreds of Euros. The merchant told us when we had been here before there were 50 artists contributing to his shop. Now he has eight.

And as I collect images from that week, I catch sight of this gentleman up above the market street. It is my favorite. I know there is no storefront, no shop, and no celebration. He appeared to be a student drawing on a whim from this exquisite viewpoint.

His office? Maybe. I watched him though different times of the day. He was there for at least three hours drawing images of the day passing by..in the market.

Have you ever thought about how when you buy something from a street artist, you are buying hours of his/her time, along with a piece of their soul?

Wind Kisses, Donna