Falling

I am falling. Falling in love with this place. Went for a bike ride at Benasque (this tiny little town close to the French border) with my pana. It was hard, up and down from 1000m to 2000m for 15 km.

The day had been gorgeous until I realized why Paulo Coelho considered Pinineo sacred. When the wind (tramuntana) out of sudden picked up from nowhere and we found ourselves climbing uphill in our bikes and shivering from the chilliness, I remembered “We continued walkingin silence and, on the way back, we heard a noise; the wind was getting up, passing above the leafless trees and coming down toward us, causing the mountain once more to reveal its magic and its power.” (dedication of The Zahir)

Then the mountain cleared up. Sun shone again. It was magical. The scenery was breathtaking when the leaves were in the process of turning yellow and red with the contrast from the rugged mountains. I found what I wanted to experience by staying, by being “left behind”--never thought I would or could fall in love with this place, but I did, as I cruised down full-speed on the highway, watching the breathtaking landscape going by like a film trailer...