I fell in love with a Spanish angel

Dear Patricia

I don't know your full name.
I don't where you live in Spain, except that it is up somewhere in the mountains.
You cheerfully sat on the couch across the table with those mesmerizing eyes, that spirited nose ring and an adorable conspicuous white cap.
We spent the whole evening at the hostel bar, with interruptions from over a dozen people who I wish had disappeared for those few hours - including your sister, your dad, Akhilesh and the other random folks at Victoria Falls.

Patricia - how can anyone not fall for you?

You might not remember, but our conversation was sparked by a contrast of interests - your love for dogs and my absolute apathy towards them. You fell in love with all the pet dogs at the backpackers hostel, and they all of course loved you. As I shirked away from those giant beasts, you chose to prove to me that dogs are adorable and started showing me pictures from your camera.

Our hands touched.

I chose the pictures on the camera and you would explain a little story for each of them - from your curious world in Spain up in the mountains - where you have chosen deliberately to live in a world without television; where baking bread with actual firewood is a passionate activity; where you teach kids in a beautiful school; where you take mesmerizing pictures of the sun, leaves and flowers; where you smile so well at the lens when it snows and when the sun shines on the green hills.

Patricia - how can anyone not fall for you?

You carry a musical pipe in your bag and break into a blues tune that could have BB King's own creation.
You picked up the local African instrument and with childlike enthusiasm fiddled around with it for a long time. In that time, you were blissfully unaware of the louder conversations in the background and the clinks of glasses. I squished closer and tried to listen to your music.
Later in the night, as I sang 'Tu hi re' to you and the rest of the audience, you did those little hums and baselines spontaneously which made the song unforgettable. Hindi to you was like Spanish to me, but you understood the song better than anyone else.

Earlier in the evening when I bubbled up with enough courage, I took your hand and tacitly asked you to dance with me. You smiled and just came along. Unapologetically, you moved your slender arms and hips and just grooved to the music. You had that twinkle in your eyes, which brought a twinkle to mine.

Patricia - how can anyone not fall for you?

You looked graceful even when you made your own cigarettes, as you licked that tobacco paper in place.
You gurgled when you laughed.
You gave the stupid hobo Rastafarian your own bottle of water, when he was rambling about no free drinks. Any one else would have just ignored him.
Sometime in the middle of our conversation, you said 'I have to go pee pee' to me with no guilt and just skipped across the table. I smiled and just waited for you.

At the end of the night, when I could not look more hopelessly smitten, you patted me on the cheek and said, "You are such a clown."
I had not felt this mushy and silly in a long time. I had not been called a clown by a girl I adored in a long time.

I woke up today at 6 a.m today just so I could see you off. You were surprised that I actually turned up, since promises made at 1am after quite a few beers can be hollow. You gave me a tight hug, held on for a lovely few seconds and ended the embrace with a peck on the cheek. I just stood there at the gate, and you left.

I should have asked for your full name
I should have asked where you live in Spain up in the mountains.

Patricia - I fell for you. And I will cherish our evening at Victoria Falls for a long time.

Love
Arvind