After a month in Bellver de Cerdanya, a tiny little city in Catalonia, I’m so grateful to be home and not at camp. I’m grateful for my kitchen and the grocery stores near my house. I’m grateful for my boyfriend and not seeing his face on Skype, and I’m oh so grateful for a comfortable bed and no spiders sneaking up on me when I least expect it. With all that in mind, though, I came away with four weeks in an entirely different part of Spain and found myself in little corners of the world I never would’ve seen if I hadn’t gone to camp and if I hand’t escaped on the weekends.
On one weekend, we rented a car and took off as soon as we could. We had no hotels booked, no destination in mind and no expectations. There was a lot of talk of cheese and wine, but other than that we had no plans for a weekend trip to the south of France. Feeling liberated from camp and free to go anywhere, we just started driving. On a whim, we stopped in Villefranche.
It was there that I fell in love with almond croissants and had the quirkiest crepe experience in the world. It was there that we could all finally relax and share a little liter of wine and unwind.
And apart from the food and wine, there was lots of wandering through the city’s little streets.
After a relaxing morning there, we were back on the road, and the only thing on our mind was the beach and getting to the coast.