Miami is full of Cuban influences. Cuban culture is vibrant in color, design, music and dancing. When I think of Cuba I am reminded of old world films that take place in 40s; the recounted travels of American authors like Hemingway and Gellhorn.

I unexpectedly discovered I missed the sound of the Spanish language while living in Pittsburgh. I heard Spanish everywhere growing-up in California and having worked in restaurants. Adios is as commonplace as saying goodbye.

Hearing Spanish around every corner in Miami felt familiar. Familiar like a place I'd visited in a dream or in the way a new lover reminds you of someone that came before them. The subtle graduations of attractive attributes reveal themselves like dirty secrets.

It was my first visit to a city where friends from across the country gathered. One morning, I had brunch with artists from Pittsburgh, later I snuck away to meet with a highly sought after art star incognito and gallivanted into the night with creative soulmates from LA whom I hadn’t seen in a couple years- all the while meeting spirited women who I can’t wait until our paths cross again. It was amazing. Dreamy.

When Basel came to a close, I was exhausted. I hit the road, heading to Panama City where I would finally have two days to myself.