I just got back to Madrid from seven days in Paris. When I left Madrid, it was in the 70ºs F (low 20ºs C) in the Spanish capital, but when I got back yesterday, the temperature had already reached 90ºF (32ºC). Here in Madrid, you almost have no real transition from Spring to Summer. You’re still wearing a sweater, a light jacket, and sleeping with the Winter sheets, and then one day you wake up, it’s 90º and there is no turning back.
Just now I opened my inbox and found an email invitation to a beginning of Summer party being thrown by my friends Juan Pablo, Jacobo (A.K.A. Hysidro) and Iurgi (A.K.A. Dorothy). I wanted to share what Iurgi wrote in the invitation because I think it is interesting to see how Spaniards (yes, even one from Bilbao) define Summer. As a matter of fact, it perfectly captures what Summer is in Spain.
It looks like Summer has arrived: good weather, tan skin, cleavage, cold beer on terrace bars, weekend getaways, Summer romances, ripe tomatoes, Gernika and Padrón peppers, pirate pants and flip flops, cairpirinhas, sangria, winter in Argentina, Sundays without football, the song of the Summer, the dance of the Summer, gossip on the news, unsafe sex, draught and forest fires, miniskirts without panties, nights without sleeping because of the heat, nights without sleeping because you’re partying, your plants have dried out, bike rides, the mountains, the beach and girls topless, the scarce hash supply, ice cream, sleeping naked, getting drunk in the open air, gazpacho, local festivities, soap operas, the grand prix, convertibles, Summer storms, pink sunsets, … and much more!
And for those of you who prefer to read the untranslated original in Spanish: Continue reading