San Lorenzo del Escorial

Silence. I can hear myself think, I can hear a distant cicada providing the beat, the wind breezing just enough, the occassional passerby strolling through. Some cars flash by, others cruise, everything has its moment. I'm sitting at what has to be a closed down shop, long since abandoned, replete with graffiti, broken beer bottles and rubbish everywhere. There are well-kept houses nearby and the youth hostel where I'm staying at just a few minutes walk up the street. 

I'm a kid from Jamaica, Queens. Sometimes I forget that I'm from there. It's times like these when I know that I needn't worry about being jumped, being robbed, that in reality there aren't many safety concerns other just making sure that I don't drink too much. That I relax, when you come from a tough hood sometimes the toughest thing is forgetting about being guarded all the time. 

I'm not saying it hasn't served me. I'm not saying that there isn't some value to growing up in those circumstances (and let's face it, NYC is tough but there are far tougher places and all you gotta do is cross a river to find them). Every time I get on the train I look around at who's close. Every time I meet a stranger I assess whether I can take them. Every time I'm in a new situation I'm thinking of the worst, I'm planning for it Walking Dead style and I'm pleasantly disappointed the majority of the time here in Spain. Out here, in a small city up in the hills, a bespectacled chap sitting cross legged on a ledge, alone typing away on his smartphone would just be waiting to get juxxed. 

There are many reasons why I live in Spain. There's the tapas, there's the Spanish language that's my mother tongue and there's the quality of living which is really high. And there's this, it's pretty fucking safe. Because all I wanna do now is have my beer, sit on this ledge without anyone bothering me and that's what I get and that's just perfectly fine.