There are a million reasons to learn Spanish. Here are some of mine:

Let’s start with the obvious. Because it is the second most spoken native language in the world, because it is the official language of 20 countries, because it is one of the UN’s six official languages, and because 20% of my hometown speaks it for god’s sake.

Then the practical. Because once you know English and French you’re only a hop, skip and a jump away from knowing Spanish, too. It would be quite a waste to have such a jump-start on a language and not bother to learn at least a little.

The aspirational:

Because the Mediterranean is, when it comes down to it, the best place on earth. And quite a large chunk of the Mediterranean runs along the Spanish coast.

The personally appealing:

Because my favorite genre of literature, magical realism, has distinctly Latin American roots and I wish I could read it in its native language. Especially my beloved Gabriel García Márquez.

Because Spain seems to operate on my night owl clock.

Because then I could live in Barcelona and visit Gaudí houses every day. (I know they speak Catalan there. I know that is different from Spanish. I’d work it out.)

Because Argentine men are beautiful. All of them. I know this from personal experience.

Because provoleta – a grilled hunk of cheese with a crunchy outside and gooey inside, seasoned with oregano – is the best invention in the history of food.

And finally, because I started learning it and now I want to finish learning it. Simple as that.

(Photos from top to bottom: Me; Maria Rosa Ferre; Trey Ratcliff; R. Mazalan; Wally Gobetz)