The scene smelled of incense. The air was light, as the entire right side of the apartment was made of floor to ceiling windows. I had just arrived to my Spanish home. There was a quiet humming of music that echoed from all corners of the house and I noticed both a Mary and a Buddha on the mantle piece.
My host mom, age 45 with wickedly beautiful red curls and a body Barbie would dream of, led me to the room I would inhabit for the next four months. I smiled when I saw it.