It's just not quite right.................

Once upon a million years ago some friends visited Spain. They brought back amazing photos of Moorish tilework... and just for me they brought back a pair of flamingo feathers they had picked up on a beach (I could divulge how they had strayed onto a beach in a 'restricted and protected' area and how they were chased off the beach by park rangers, but that's a story for another day). For the briefest moment on a 6F evening I considered going to Barcelona to spend a week taking tango lessons. But decided before I could embark on an intensive course of tango I would need some well broken-in dance shoes -- and of course to be in right country (Argentina! who knew!?) to learn the tango!! So, that moment passed.

I thought about Portugal. I always think of Lisbon and the "letters of transit" But I'd need time to learn more about the country than just passing references to WWII -- I'll save this trip for the future when I have time to research.

I thought about going back to Germany -- the land of large, beautiful shoes and great beer. But this is not the year for a Deutsche experience.

Nothing felt quite right.......I kept searching my brain.