Galicia isn’t for everyone. Just like me. It’s not louder, shinier, or more “special” than anywhere else. In many ways, it’s been overlooked—an isolated corner in the northwest of Spain, often seen as rural, quiet, even behind. But if something defines Galicia, it’s authenticity. A land shaped by less access, less noise, less distraction—and because of that, a people shaped by resilience, hard work, and a deep sense of identity. A place where people are warm and welcoming, yet cautious with what feels unfamiliar. A place full of contradictions. Maybe that’s why so many of us leave. Migration is part of our story. Not as heroism, but as necessity. As instinct. The quiet understanding that if you want something different, you might have to go find it yourself. And then there’s morriña—that deep, almost unexplainable longing for home. For a long time, I saw it as a weakness. A kind of romanticizing of the past. But now I see the paradox: it can be both a weight and a strength. A re...