Saying goodbye leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth, that I usually only reserve it for funerals. In my half-glass-full, eternally optimistic world, it’s always “see you later,” or as the Spaniards say, hasta luego. When I told my typical Tuesday/Thursday lunch spot that it was my last time eating there, upon walking out the door, they waved and said, “hasta luego, otra vez” – indicating that I would surely be back to their tiny vegetarian nook nestled on the edge of El Viso.  There was no hesitation, no question that I would be back, if not tomorrow, the following day, for another piece of their most scrumptious, not too cream-cheesy, carrot cake.  She was the closest thing I had to a señora while abroad and always greeted me with a warm smile. We often got lost in translation, and resorted to pointing and hand motions when all else failed. Instead of getting frustrated with me, she would treat me with an extra large piece of torta. She asked about school, helped me with on more than one occasion with my grammar, and even kept the doors open past normal closing time so I could finish an essay, but perhaps what I’ll look forward to seeing again most is being a regular again in a place that isn’t my home. So until then, hasta luego.