Salamanca enchanted me from the start. Perhaps it was my few days of exploration in Madrid, wandering crooked streets and stumbling across an infinite number of beautiful plazas, that primed me for Salamanca. But here, nearly everything glows with a sort of ancient magic.

I have walked streets trod by men and women of scholarly fame tracing back hundreds of years, and for me the city creates a sort of historic haze that augments even the mundane moments. While dining in a cafe, walking home, even shopping, I am acutely aware of the history surrounding me.

In my adventures in Spain so far, I have climbed a fortress over 800 years old, savored the cuisine of Donotsia (San Sebastian), marveled at the Roman aqueduct in Segovia, dined in a bodega in Zamora, and perched on the 12th century walls of Ávila. I have swum in the Bay of Biscay and blundered through my limited French in Biarritz.

I am inspired. My Spanish has improved greatly, and I have already set my sights on learning French, Euskerra, and host of other languages. I yearn to study at the University of Salamanca and master Spanish enough to read the legends and tales I’ve only briefly become acquainted with.

The traveler in me loves the proximity of so much possibility and marvels at the distinct culture of each new region. The transition from Donotsia to Biarritz was stark and sudden, despite being only an hour apart. It seems the people here have a deep pride for their traditions and customs; I love getting to know them all.

Suffice to say that this journey I’ve taken has been a greater and deeper experience than I imagined it would be. It has changed the trajectory of my future, for who could come here and not be swayed?