The Spanish Lipizan

by Palak Poddar (India)

I didn't expect to find Spain

I woke up early in the morning feeling exhausted, surprised to see my boss’s message, received at 2.16am: “Alright Palak you can have the next two days off.” “Ostiya*!” I exclaimed. It was a moment of happy annoyance. I bit my lip and let my hair down; I had a trip to plan! As it was Spain's favorite holiday season, most cities had skyrocketing travel prices. Luckily I found cheap bus tickets to Granada for the immediate future. If only as interns we were paid at architecture firms, I could’ve bought some more time. The clock was ticking, it was 10 am, and I had precisely two hours to pack, get dressed and reach the South bus station Mendez Alvaro, by noon. …Dear diary…Right now I’m on my way to Granada, it’s 18.10, the sky is pink and blue and orange, I see meadows and mountains on both sides. The silhouettes of foliage stand mightily against the washed out backdrop. I feel calm. Weirdly, the pink is fierce and looks a little anxious. All the pain from lifting and shifting the concrete models last week seems to be disappearing. The greens are gradually getting darker and duller. The landscape reminds me of Blancanieves**: rows of manicured trees and bushes, evenly spaced, forming hypnotic patterns. How was it planned like that? Who made it so immaculate and why? Everything’s so organised, it makes me wanna be like it… The gorgeous town of Granada, located in the foothill of Sierra Nevada, the highest mountain range in South of Spain, came straight out of a medieval fairly-tale setting. With its colorful lights hung endlessly across the ceilings of streets, it looked like Santa’s magical trail. Oh and the Christmas markets with piles of flowers, fruits, marzipan and sweets and hand-made gifts, it was the first time I witnessed the glamorous Western world of Christmas. Seeing the whole city light up was a big step up from the one dedicated corner of my family room that we decorated with a small tree, shiny stars and fairy lights back at home every year. These festivities never had the same enthusiasm in India. “Riding in Nevada- Spend the most fulfilling two hours of your life! BOOK NOW”! The bold Algerian print on the brand new poster was the first thing to grab my attention in the hostel lobby. Before I could think, process and contemplate a decision, I found myself taking orders from a complete stranger on call. “…you can take bus 390 at 10.50 to my town, get off at last stop Guejar Sierra. I will be there, I have a white car and I am tall fat and ugly, see you tomorrow Paaluk.” After reassuring my mom for the hundredth time that I hadn’t been kidnapped or manipulated, I reached the dormitory, thrilled more than ever about my first ever solo trip. If it weren’t for the two months of keeping up with corporate slavery in Madrid, my Indian parents would have never agreed to something like this. That night I couldn’t stop dreaming about myself on a Lipizzaner***,up in the mountains, trotting uphill, with the most spectacular views. The following morning was unusually pleasant. I literally lived my dream, in a larger-than-life, too-nice-to-be-real kind-of way. I always knew I liked riding, but that day when the sun was the right amount of bright and my stubborn horse had just the adequate amount of vigor, I discovered how much joy it really brought into my life. In that moment, I saw the triviality of everyday existence in new light. I felt free and okay being me. Sky kept trying to overtake my trainer’s horse. But I managed to control him and calm him down. “It was really courageous of you to come here and… do this...I never see Asians around here, especially young ones”, said Victor, no more a stranger, on our way back to the bus stop. …Dear diary…today I got a tattoo of a horse on my left arm. It’ll remind me how of how I found myself, on horseback, in the mountains..... *Jesus in Spanish **Spanish for snow white, ***Austrian horse breed, white in color