Leaving sun and sand ... tear!

Somehow the timing always just works out perfectly. I have had 4 days of lovely sun and beach, and I am again ready to move on. Although it´s a bit more sad now because I won´t get to speak any more Spanish, and I won´t be going to anymore nice lay-out beaches, and the not-white Debbie will soon be white white Debbie again. Ah, well. I´m actually really sad about that which is kinda shallow of me, but I don´t really care. :)

Things to remember in Spain:
-The adorable little girl next to me on the beach who kept calling for her grandpa. "Carlos! CAAARRRLLOOOSSS! ¿Que tal, Carlos?" Okay it´s not as cute when it´s typed out like that. It seems borderline creepy, actually. But if you´d have been there, you´d know.
-The feel of icey Atlantic water when it first hits your skin and you dive into its aqua deliciousness.
-TOO MANY SPEEDOS! They are NOT cool!
-Salty hair, sandy skin
-The color of the ocean at different times of day. Brilliant.
-Dancing on the beach until 6 a.m., then waking up at 10:30 to go right back just to lay on it.
-The man on the walkway playing traditional Spanish guitar at night while I watched the lights and moon reflecting on the water in the bay. Unlike most street performers, this guy got my money.

But on to Paris where I will run around the Louvre playing a game I call "Da Vinci Code Revisited - Debbie style" and climb the Eiffel Tower at night. My hostel is in the same neighborhood where Picasso, Van Gogh and other impressive sounding artists lived and hung out. As the Woodstock Hostel Web site says: "If it was good enough for them, it´ll be good enough for you."