Is it really a small world, after all? Driving from Estepona to Malaga, I find myself doubting it. A year ago, I had never heard of Estepona - nor Malaga, nor any of the cities I passed en route: Fuengirola, Benalmadena, Torremolinos. All cities in their own right, with high rise apartment buildings, billboards lining the highway, tens of thousands of people. The drive was just over an hour, and there was so much unknown to me. Of course, Geography has never been my strongest category at trivia night, but I caught myself thinking about just how little I knew about Spain, about Europe, about the world. All of these thousands of people making their lives in places utterly unknown to me.

The only city I had ever heard of on my sunny drive was Marbella, known for containing the second (or third, or fourth) homes of many of the world’s rich and powerful. The only reason I had heard of Marbella, though, was because of a passing mention in Ted Lasso, which I recently rewatched to catch up before the fourth season. I may not know a lot about Geography, but modern TV? That’s my wheelhouse. I thought about that quite a bit; what would my Geography knowledge be without TV or the internet? I doubt I would ever be so motivated as to pick up an atlas or encyclopedia. I would just as likely be blissfully ignorant of all the places in the world, all the history they contain, all the people who express their cultures there. Traveling by car allowed my mind to wander: What does that city’s name mean? What is that building on the hillside? Why did they build the highway here? How long as this farm been here? Will I remember to look these things up after my drive? (Spoiler alert: I wouldn’t.)

It’s hard to see the world as small when I’m confronted every day with all the things I simply don’t know about it. I filled up my gas tank during this drive, first walking inside to the attendant to tell her “full tank, pump #3 please” in abysmal Spanish. She looked at her computer, then back at me, squinting and rifling a command to me that I’m sure translated to something like: “You have to fill it up first, you American idiot.” (For the Europeans reading this: At an American gas pump, you pay first, then pump your gas.) Just that small cultural shift - a tiny difference in the way we do things - added to the pool of stuff I don’t know.

I like to be self-deprecating with my students, at times. I often say, “I’m the only one in this room with experience enough to know if I’m smart or stupid, and all evidence points towards the latter.” Most students, little gems that they are, push back on this, but I hold up my hand, saying, “Don’t correct me: I only mean that I know how much I don’t know, and I’m excited to know more.” For the record, I don’t think I’m stupid, nor very smart, but rather somewhere in the peaceful middle. I love to learn; I love to do hard things; I love to fail and try again. If I were too stupid, I imagine that I’d give up more. If I were too smart, I’d probably not have done the “stupid” thing in choosing a year of no paycheck.

Here’s a great example: Before leaving for Malaga, I encountered a timing issue that is all-too-common when traveling. My rental car was due by 10:00 AM, but my Airbnb check-in wasn’t until 3:00 PM. There is an entire industry built upon this gap; most transatlantic flights land in Europe in the morning, and the vast majority of hotels don’t start check-in until mid-afternoon. The industry is that of temporary storage - lockers, cubbies, and the like. My thought before leaving was as follows: I should drive to the baggage storage place first, drop off my bags, then drive to the rental car return so that I don’t need to lug my huge backpack through Malaga’s public transit system and crowded footpaths. I’m only here for two nights, so I wanted to make the most of it.

Smart, right? Except one thing: The storage locker was in the middle of the old city, the most densely packed part of Malaga. There are no sidewalks to speak of - the old cobblestone roads were open to foot traffic and vehicles alike. So, there I was, the only car downtown (save for a couple of taxis), literally surrounded on all sides by pedestrians, creeping along at half a kilometer per hour, not a parking space in sight. The storage facility itself wasn’t even accessible by car, something a smarter person would have looked up ahead of time. I finally found a garage about a kilometer from the lockers. And so I schlepped my stuff to the locker, paid the exorbitant 20 euro fee, and repeated the process in reverse to get out of the city center, inch by inch.

A smarter man would have checked up on storage lockers with parking nearby or ones that weren’t literally surrounded by every European tourist in existence. But, this less-than-brilliant traveler got an adventure out of it, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed. I got to see the old city from a very unusual perspective - I felt like I was in the running of the bulls, except I was the bull, and I really didn’t want to hurt anyone. For reference, the rental car was due by 10 AM, and I arrived downtown just before 9:30. I returned the car at 11:45. In two hours, I drove maybe 5 km. Thankfully, they informed me that I had a two-hour return grace period, leaving me with 15 blessed minutes to spare. Call that a win for the smart guy.

And here’s the thing: The crux of the idea was solid. I absolutely loved walking through Malaga without my heavy backpack, free to amble along those same streets that I had crawled through mere hours before. I got coffee, a slice of the best carrot cake I’ve ever tasted in my life, and read my book in a park of exotic plants overrun by noisy green parrots. I got to my Airbnb on time and took a well-deserved nap in a city I’d never heard of, on a trip I could barely conceive of, on a day that didn’t go to plan but still feels like a resounding success.

My day started with ruminations on the size of the world. I think people who say, “What a small world” are right in their own way - our personal worlds are very small. Our towns, communities, and connections feature paths that cross more often than separate. But this trip has left me admiring (and respecting) just how much is out there. Those cities I drove past have something to offer; I could probably spend my whole sabbatical in any one of them and never run out of things to do. There are lifetimes upon lifetimes of places to see, people to meet, and things to do. So, I’ve concluded that the world is big - too big for one dumb brain, but I’m going to enjoy the hell out of the bits and pieces that I get to see.

Until next time,

Ethan

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