At a village that’s surrounded by mountains that touch the clouds, we were told to hike up to its El Castillo part (also called Bulnes de Arriba).

Touching-the-Sky-Bulnes-de-Arriba-Spain-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography

The castillo was what we expected to see. But instead, we bumped into him, bucket in hand.

”Where are you from?” Him in Spanish.
”America.” Me with my limited Español. (Side note: To avoid confusion, we’ve long decided to not say we are from Los Angeles in Spanish speaking countries. Go here and you’ll know why.)

As we turned around the corner after him, we discovered beautiful vista and the happiest chicken in my opinion.

Nonetheless, I sensed a troubled cloud on his forehead somehow.

Happiest-Chicken-Bulnes-de-Arriba-Spain-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography

“Peru?” Finally, he asked, minutes later.
”Huh?”
After a few back-and-forth, I realized what he meant - the Peru in the America.
”Oh, no, Estados Unidos.” Me again, putting my best foot forward in Spanish.

Relieved, off he went, leaving us with the chicken, roaming at our will. Until, we realized we had more to learn than things like where we are from - “borrowing” from your neighbors, at free will.

Do you want to know how we figured out it was not her house?