Today is the day of Independence for the United States and I think Elliot Smith sang it best:

"Future butterfly, gonna spend the day higher than high

You'll be beautiful confusion

once I was you

I saw you caught between all the people out making a scene

And a bright ideal, tomorrow

don't go too far

Stay who you are

Everybody knows

You only live a day

But it's brilliant anyway

I saw you at the perfect place

It's gonna happen soon, but not today

So go to sleep, and make the change

I'll meet you here tomorrow

Independence Day."

These words couldn't put my life any better into a perfect place at 28.

Half that number, add a year.

When I was 15 years old I lived in a town called Girona, in the Northeast region of Catalunya, in Spain, which is bound by the Mediterranean Sea and the Andorra Mountains. I told my parents I needed to travel, so I was off onto a journey that would change me forever. A little girl lost, needing to escape the reality of my life at that point in time. It was a journey of love, letting go of resentment; a simple and complex journey of wonder and joy. I was happy that my parents would set me free like that at such a young age. I was happy to be somewhere, where nobody knew my name and where there was so much to be learned by both the language and the people.

I was met at the airport in Barcelona by an amazing curly headed women named Neus who took me into the new world I was soon to explore with wide eyes and a broken smile. We hopped into an 80’s Range rover and fled, leaving only the dust of my past behind. We arrived in Figueres, the birthplace of Salvador Dali, one of the most amazing surrealist painters ever to exist. We had a nice lunch al fresco with her friends and another American girl from the Midwest, who was on her own journey.

After lunch, Neus took me to my new home in the mountains of Girona, a place called Montjuïc, between the Onyar and Galligants Rivers. In Catalan, Monjuic means “Hill of the Jews”…how perfect and kismet for me to be randomly connected to this place I would now call home. Their story started in 890, when 25 Jewish families settled alongside the Girona cathedral. On March 31, 1492, the crown issued the edict expelling the Jews from Spain unless they renounced their religion in favor of Catholicism. During the time the Jews occupied Girona, Monjuic housed the cemetery where they were all laid to rest: this is where I was to live. The full circle of life had come to a complete happenstance, I needed this town and this town chose me.

When I awoke to my first day in this gorgeous country, I had a handwritten itinerary set out for me on the table outside of my 5 by 10 bedroom with wood floors, cork walls and ivy draping over the push-out windows. Neus explained everything on the list for me over a cup of coffee that morning. I was excited! I love itineraries as they involve solely enjoyment on my part, all I had to do was take it all in. No thinking, just going with the flow and riding in the Peugeot with wonder written all over my fresh, young face.

The day before my first day of school at Vicens Vives, I decided to dye my hair black, to appear as a goth of some sort. In retrospect I wanted people to perceive me as being mysterious. I didn't realize at the time that the fact that being an American girl from Los Angeles (to them the most exciting city in the world) was enough. I was in a dark place of my life, little did I know at the time but Girona, and its people, would bring light into my world, my hair color and most importantly my soul.

At first glance I was considered "Aleeza Solowitz: The American Chick". The Journalism class wrote a two-page story on me in their monthly magazine, which I would later write for. Because of this, everyone knew who I was and the group that I admired the most in the school had taken notice and involved me in all of their activities, both in and out of the classroom.

I soon broke out of my cocoon and turned into the Catalan butterfly I was to become.

They all saw something in me that I never did. It was something that felt so good, to be looked at in a certain way, with a certain wonder in their eyes, a feeling, that look, their genuine smiles, an experience. These people made me realize that I was my own person: they fed my hunger of self-realization. In return, I taught them whatever they wanted to know about American culture, or lack thereof. As I shared my own stories and thoughts, they listened with wide eyes and much needed soul hugs.

These friends took time to teach me their language, authentic way of life, the freedom that they lived everyday. From ditching class, sitting in the ruins of old castles and bridges along the Onyar River, singing silly songs in Catalan, making guirnaldas or coronas de margaritas. We would sit in the grass on a hillside and sing songs while linking daisy flowers together to make crowns for our heads.

And dance, yes, we would dance...so free, so wild, so much of everything I only wish to recapture now, thirteen years later.

To an adult it would seem shameful to ditch class, but to me, I would rather have the life experience with these young hippies surrounded by hundreds of years of history. I didn't want to sit in a classroom. I wanted to dance.

Throughout my travels from that point on, I have met some amazing people and make it a point to stay connected to them. I enjoy meeting strangers and hearing their stories.

Knowing that I know someone in every corner of the world feels good. I've had about six of my friends from Spain alone visit me here in L.A., some I have written about. Last summer while in Costa Rica I met a ton of lone travelers and I have stayed close with two of them: one is spending the summer with me and the other, whom is now dating a friend of mine and lives 5 miles away. It's funny how sliding doors work.

When I think about how young and naive I was, I look back and think about the pure joy that these people infused into my life. That way of life is, for me, the only way to live even though unfortunately, I don't live that way, though I should.

The funny thing is that there is nothing stopping me but myself...I can still dance. I will dance! I am making that promise to myself today: To celebrate having two legs and maybe a bit of organic rhythm. I’m going to dance when this column is published because I am thankful. I’m going to dance while I cook dinner tonight, in the moonlight, because I have hands to cook with. I’m gong to dance tomorrow morning, when I wake up to Sonny Rollins, over coffee in a spill-proof mug, because I am alive.

I can relearn how to be happy with such simple things, the joy in discovery. That's where my happiness lies, and in my time of life right now I'm always competing for more, better, bigger. It's not about that at all, It's about having lunch outside with friends and family, it's about communicating, learning, loving, enjoying and appreciating, getting up early in the morning, taking a nap in the middle of the day and having dinner at 10pm. The more I think about it the more I realize my need to get out of here. We only have one life on this amazing earth and I personally don't want to spend it in a race against time and space, I would rather relax and continue learning through experiences and people. The world is so big and full of so many good things. Happy Independence Day.