Julie

Ten days away from my familiar surroundings. My world revolves around El Burro, the place where I feel safe and have everything I long for. But still, I had booked a trip to Fuengirola, where my mom and my stepdad Dirk now live. The last time I saw my mom was in February last year when we flew to Belgium for a month to visit family and friends. Now that she lives in the south of Spain and we’re still in Mallorca, visiting is fairly easy. The flights were ridiculously cheap: 50 euros round trip, absurd when you think about it. So there I went, on January 31st, boarding that plane. A metal tube meant to get me safely to my destination. I used to love flying; now, it mostly gives me claustrophobic thoughts. Greg came with me to the airport. Saying goodbye felt strange. I can’t even remember the last time we spent an entire day apart. People sometimes ask how we manage to be together all the time, but honestly, it doesn’t bother me. Maybe that’s a good sign? When I arrived in Málaga, I walked to the exit with a nervous feeling. And there they were: mom and Dirk. Because we video call often, seeing them again felt familiar, as if it had only been a week. We took the train to Fuengirola and I was curious about their apartment and how they lived there. It felt both strange and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a book whose beginning I knew but whose continuation was still unknown. That evening, we had dinner together and caught up. It felt good to have mom and Dirk close, though I did miss Greg. But traveling with two cats by plane? Impossible. Especially with one who’s afraid of the sound of an engine. During my stay, I had also booked a trip to the Caminito del Rey, a famous hiking trail through an impressive gorge. Once one of the most dangerous paths in the world, but since its renovation in 2015, it’s safe and accessible to tourists. The bus ride there took us past endless lemon and orange groves. The scent of ripe fruit filled the air and the sun painted the landscape golden yellow. Upon arrival, we were given helmets and followed the guide along the wooden path high above the river. The views were breathtaking and we even saw vultures soaring above the mountains. Sometimes, I paused, looked around, and tried to take it all in: the immense depth below me, the soft whisper of the wind through the gorge, the distant cliffs standing out against the bright blue sky. The guide shared interesting facts about the history and nature of the area. Would I do it again? Yes, but preferably alone or with Greg. Walking in a group isn’t for me; I want to take my time and not feel rushed. Some parts also felt overly touristy, especially when we ended up at various souvenir stalls and food stands. The magic faded a little at that moment.
 The days flew by: walking through Fuengirola, a trip to Málaga, and… getting sick. The flu got me, probably thanks to the cramped space on the plane or train full of people. Still, I tried to make the best of it and enjoyed the time with mom and Dirk. Walking through Fuengirola together was nice, but I had underestimated how busy and noisy it could be. The contrast with the peace of the boat suddenly became painfully clear. I realised that quietness is becoming increasingly important to me. 
Saying goodbye to my mom and Dirk was difficult. The knot in my stomach was there from the moment we woke up that morning. You never know how long it will be before you see each other again. Thankfully, video calling exists, but it’s just not the same. Our hug felt tighter than usual. With the flu still lingering, I boarded the return flight. For a moment, I was even afraid I’d miss my first flight, the crowds and waiting triggered a slight panic attack. My breathing sped up, my head spun for a second. But I recovered, kept going and focused on the moment I’d be home again. After two flights (with a layover in Barcelona) and two bus rides, I finally arrived in the bay of Alcudia. Just in time for sunset. The sky turned a stunning blend of pink and orange behind the mountains, a painting of colours melting into each other. And then I knew: this is home. The boat is home. Greg is home. The cats are home. I took a deep breath and felt the tension from the journey slowly fade away. And just like that, I felt so much better.