It’s a hard feeling to convey, but it arrives, always, every April. The air is lighter, my stomach too and my energy levels soar as the temperatures outside progressively do too. I am inexplicably excited for things to come, even when nothing exceptionally exciting is ahead. I undeniably live for the warmer months, all winter long I sigh and stare ahead for when they will come. I hate scarves. Sweaters are cute but I could happily live without them forever. The same goes for tights, a garment I absolutely abhor. They are terrible in so many ways for a girl with runner’s thighs. How sad the cold is to me and how happy the sunshine makes me feel. It’s one of the few facts of this world that make me faithfully joyful. So when spring shows her first signs, I’m exuberant, I can hardly concentrate and all I want to do is pull on a pair of old shorts for a run or last year’s bikini and to the sands.
I’m texting everyone I know in hopes they too will ditch all responsibility to get outside with me. It’s the main reason I moved to Spain, away from France and also why I can’t move to Berlin, despite the temptation, sunshine has the same effect on me that wine does. And anything in life that makes you feel the same way a few glasses of wine does? It should be prioritized and indulged and enjoyed. So, it is this simple joy that brought me to Barcelona, I’ll wake up, throw open my south facing windows and feel resurrected because spring is here, and soon after, summer will follow and in Spain, it’s a party, a full-fledged, season-long fiesta. I could fill an entire book with depictions of my love for summers in this country, I grew up on them after all. And even when I lived away, I always abandoned England or France to return for a slice of the Spanish summer. It’s the cool showers after a day in the sun, when the water washes away the sand with skin tingling in a way even the most expensive exfoliator can’t emulate. It’s the barefoot moments on balconies at dusk when the skies wash to pink and the night feels young and thrilling because dinner isn’t until midnight and afterwards, something totally spontaneous that won’t finish until way too late. It’s the treks to the quieter beaches and watermelons split open and dripping onto knees. The striped beach towel and the volleyball in an old mesh bag, both breaded in sand, so much sand it spills all over the floors at the front door. There are the Spanish men with dark tans and devious smiles that melt everything away. The late nights in shorts and bare faces sweaty and hot, hands filled with iced drinks in plastic cups on the cobbled streets in Raval. Too hot to eat anything but tiny tapas. Too hot for most things, but in the heat lies so many happy things, for me at least. Barcelona, for the first time in a while, I’m happy to be here. I’m smiling because Spring came and soon after summer, and that simple fact is all I need. These seasons make me feel SO MANY WONDERFUL THINGS.