Last Thursday I made my escape and fled north to visit my new city for the first time. I boarded the train with a quivering sensation of anticipation and, after being misdirected several times, found my seat and perched impatiently in it, tired but unable to sleep. It had occurred to me in the wee hours of that morning, as I desperately tried to still my circling thoughts, that I had not been outside of the city for two months. Eagerly I awaited my first sight of a horizon not defined by the roofs of the buildings across the street. I spoke briefly to the boy next to me, but my mind was too distracted by the excitement of my trip to be able to make much conversation. The train eased by the dingy buildings and crowded streets and at last began to pick up speed as the concrete walls fell away and the sky faded from smoky brown into clear blue. I wasn't able to fall asleep for almost another hour, so entranced was I by the groves of orange trees, punctuated by tall palms, and the colorfully dressed peasants on their jogging donkeys. And always the sky.

That afternoon, after my arrival and some lunch, my friends took me to the palace gardens, where we strolled around the grounds enjoying the cool green-ness and then wandered on out to the shore, where we sat on a wall above the sea and watched the water. Definitely not a lake in Oklahoma-- this water shifted through every imaginable shade of green and blue, and below me I could see down to the rocks on the bottom, through water clear enough that I could not tell how deep it was. For a long time I stared out over the sea, stretching my eyes to where the water blurred into sky, wondering at the expanse spread out in front of me.

My days there passed quickly, and all too soon it was Saturday evening and I was boarding another train. I said my goodbyes and turned my face back towards the snarl of concrete and humanity whence I had come, all the while comforted by the thought that this now was temporary.