My first trip to Spain (the one that would eventually inspire me to move there) was divided between Madrid and A Coruña, Galicia, the most northwest region of Spain that is perched right on top of Portugal. We stayed with my friend’s uncle, who had lived in the area for many years after leaving Iran– and in typical Iranian fashion, he provided an almost constant stream of delicious food, hospitality, and insider A Coruña knowledge that even the best travel guide couldn’t hope to live up to. One day, he offered to drive us to Santiago de Compostela, the town made famous by the many pilgrims that hike through Spain or Portugal to reach their dramatic ending point. Though the iconic cathedral, the winding streets, and the delicate tartas de Santiago were all focal points of the trip, whenever I’m reminded of that day, my mind immediately jumps to this: a massive, colorful mosaic of a cross, comprised of tiny flower petals, leaves, and colored stones. From far away you’d think it was a painting (and let’s be honest, that would still be very impressive), but it had been painstakingly made with the smallest, most impermanent objects.