One of the reasons I love to travel is to immerse myself in the culture of the place I'm visiting. I rent an apartment, take public transportation whenever possible, and do as the locals do. It makes for a much more enlightening and worldly experience.

The problem with that is that I end up falling in love with the places I visit. Always.

With Madrid it was love at first sight and very passionate.

Atlanta is a lover I can always turn to for a quick romp, animated conversation, and sparks of creativity.

New York City is my great love. The one I'll always remember that sets the bar for all those that come after.

Currently I'm falling in love with Mexico City. It's like that lover that you're not sure of at first, but you get to know them really quickly and find yourself wanting to be with them all the time.

I always tend to see the good in the places I fall in love with. Yeah, each place has their faults and dark corners, just like we all do. Keeping it ideal, while a bit of an illusion at times, is a great way to remember these lovers in their best moments. I'll take that parting memory every time.

As I sat at the bar and enjoyed my beer I couldn't help but notice a very loud crowd of 20-something Madrileños at the back of the bar singing along to music videos and classic commercials playing on a giant flat screen television. Only I couldn't recall any of the songs, didn't recognize any of the singers, and couldn't sing along to the jingles of any of the commercials -- unlike that young crew in the back of the bar.

The longer I watched them carry on -- and they were very entertaining to watch -- I started to realize that they have a whole different history, a whole different set of memories, that I or most of the people I know do. The music, the jingles, the commercials, the camaraderie, the cultural history -- it belonged to them, los españoles, and not the American at the bar.

From my Madrid journal:

Whole different lives are lived here. Different histories, different memories, different ways of being and living. It amazes me. We're so self-centered as Americans, thinking our experiences define how the world should be. It isn't until you go somewhere else that you realize that it ain't all about us.

I see Madrileños and the way they are, see the things they do and how they do them. I'll pick one, my tender here at Café Oliver for instance, and think about where she's been and how she got here. What her history is, what her memories are. Who loves her, who she loves. What does she do when she gets off work? Does she have a live-in, is she married, or alone? How does she fight with her lover? What does she look like when she cries? What does she look like when she has sex? How does her body move when she's with her lover, that person bringing her to ecstasy? How does she laugh? What makes her smile?

All of this and more comes to mind from a simple "hola" and the pour of a beer.

The more I travel and meet people who aren't like me, the bigger and richer it makes my world. I want to know all about how other people (non-Americans) live their lives and see the world. I want to know what their histories are, what matters to them, and how they find and pursue their passions.

Twitter and Facebook have made this pursuit much easier. I have several followers and "friends" on these social networks that are from Spain, Mexico, and other places where our only connection is that we share a similar language and, maybe, a cultural interest. That's the starting point, though, and there has to be a starting point.

I can't wait to see where my travels, both virtual and physical, take me and what they'll continue to reveal and teach me -- hell, all of us -- about the world beyond our borders. Hell, I might even learn a few new tunes and jingles.