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When you live with strabismus, the sky is often the easiest thing to look at. Nothing jagged about it. You can look at the starriest, smokiest sky with exhausted eyes and still, it won’t daze you, because there are no real edges in it at all. Just light or darkness hanging in the gossamer of clouds or the delicate mesh of stars. Easy. When we left Madrid after our first ten days in Spain, the sky was completely ordinary. Could have been the Florida sky, if you were to pour a dollop of milk into the latter, to get just a paler shade of blue. I remember looking at it, wondering if it would rain. It didn’t. The morning was awash with sunlight when we stepped into the streets we had come to love completely in only ten days: streets that are ancient, walkable, peopled, and suffused with the reckless zephyrs of cigarette smoke. We exchanged warm farewells with the concierge of Apartamentos Juan Bravo , and promised to return the following year. Then we hailed a cab and asked to be taken ...

Hello from Barcelona! We've been here since Wednesday. We're staying in an adorable Airbnb close to Las Ramblas owned by a beautiful, honey-skinned, maple-eyed girl named Maria. Her little apartment is furnished with retro decor: a red couch, black coffee table, white footstool, and plenty of funny/inspirational quotes on the walls. A smile is the best make-up any girl can wear!, Marilyn Monroe is purported to have said, according to the quote beside the bed. A large print of a bright red lipstick kiss accents this quote. The bedspread is a paisley print that is, for the most part, navy blue. The entryway reminds me that If you believe in yourself, anything is possible . A flutter of black butterflies is stuccoed to the wall behind the television. This neighborhood is vibrant. Immediately downstairs are a dozen restaurants, including a Muslim bakery and a pizza/beer joint called Caleuche, el Horno Patagónico . Children play ball in the courtyards and squeal on the swingset...

"She was not so beautiful in real life," said the museum guide at El Prado. "In fact, she was so ugly, it is no wonder that the sculptor even threw a veil over her face... " We were standing in front of Isabel II's delicate, ivory bust.  I laughed out loud. Michael had already warned me that, with Isabel Segunda, I had picked a bad subject to interpret as evocative of the softness of a girl, softness of a woman. "She was horrible! " Papi exclaimed. "A horrible human being, you mean?" I asked, not surprised at all by this revelation. "Yes, in addition to being ugly. She killed many people." "What monarch didn't, or wasn't horrible?" I said. "Monarchy aside, was there ever a rich fuck in all of history who wasn't an abominable human being?" We had walked a long time inside the Prado before reaching the veiled queen. We had already seen Las Meninas , and I had whispered to Pa...

 T-minus three hours to being drunk on an airplane and flying towards: Madrid! Barcelona! The South of France! Although I travel light -- always! -- it feels like I have been packing forever. I consider myself a minimalist. I like to keep an almost-empty closet with "staple" garments: two pairs of jeans, two shorts, a few tanks and tees, one button down, a couple sweaters, a couple dresses, a couple leggings, one jacket, one pair of keds, one pair of running shoes, two pairs of boots (at most!), one pair of stripper heels. Everything should fit inside a small closet. When I buy new clothes, I donate old ones.  Packing for a trip follows the same suit. I pack minimally. But being a minimalist also forces one to be meticulous. Think: if you're only going to own one black dress, it's going to have to be the right dress. If you're only packing one bag for your trip to Spain, it sure as hell better be the right one. So, after eight or nine trips to TJ Maxx...