As I stepped across the bathroom tiles of our AirBnB in Barcelona I found myself reverting to my old habit of placing most of the weight on the outside edges of my feet, an attempt to mitigate the cold by exposing the smallest possible surface area to the cold floor. I sat down on the toilet seat and nearly gasped as the stark cold porcelain met my exposed skin. Once the shock of the cold faded I smiled as I relaxed, reminded of the familiar friends of cold floors and cold toilet seats.

We arrived in Barcelona as the sun was setting, stepping off our bus from the airport into Plaza España. The air was cool but not yet cold, smelled clean and people were quickly walking by heading in one of the 8 directions that the plaza led to. We decided to walk the rest of the way to our apartment, carrying our 40L backpacks tightly cinched. I felt delightfully inconsequential as I stared up at the ancient buildings that lined the narrow streets, balconies filled with succulents spilling out into the streets and houselights coming on as evening turned to night.

In attempt to avoid hyperbole, let me just say that Barcelona was glorious. Our AirBnB was charming, with a small space heater where I warmed myself in front of the orange coils in the late evening and early morning. The first night we were there I ate nearly a whole wedge of  manchego as we plotted our evening plans. We spent two evenings and one full day in Barcelona, walking nearly 15 miles around the city as we ducked into Vermuterías, tapas bars, coffee shops, meandered through the Botanical Gardens as the sun shone down and I even shed my sweater during the day. We ate lunch at Mercado de La Boquería; the first stall we came upon served slices of prosciutto, chunks of manchego and mini baguette crackers for 2 euros in a cone so I promptly bought one and enjoyed it as much as a child eating ice cream as we walked around the rest of the market, overwhelmed by the fresh fruit, vegetables, abundance of cheese, hanging meat, fresh fruit juice, dried fruits, mushrooms and on and on. We left Barcelona with full bellies and shin splints from the indulgence of eating and walking as much as we please, two things that we don’t do while living in Dar.

We took the train up to Girona, smartly (or stupidly?) carrying all of our groceries with us to spend the holiday inside. Turns out there were a few stores open when we arrived. Girona was founded in 79 BC, and the historical charm oozed out of it around every corner. The walls in our AirBnB were made of stone, a fireplace filled the main room, and we had a stunning view of the city from our bedroom. We were just around the corner from the famous old Cathedral, where we attended midnight Christmas Eve mass and heard the bells chime throughout the day. We spent our time alternating between cooking, eating, reading and taking long walks around the old city wall that still surrounds a portion of the town. When we arrived I was disappointed that the town was mostly closed and we couldn’t see more of the shops and eat in more of the restaurants, even though this is why we chose a small town for Christmas. And it is this exact FOMO that I suffer from that made it excellent that I was forced to relax and just be, not do. It was one of the most relaxing Christmases I can remember, and the first where neither Jason or I had to work for who knows how long.

After our Christmas retreat in Girona we rented a car and Nate drove us all to Madrid (Jason and I didn’t bring our drivers licenses to Spain). The drive was beautiful and we arrived in the dark; navigating Madrid at night quickly brought me back to the aggressive driving tactics and ‘suggested’ lanes that are hallmarks of driving in Tanzania. We were happy to drop the car off and return to our adventure by foot. We spent our first 24 hours exploring some of the more touristy areas before being reminded that none of us actually like being in huge swarms of people trying to buy stuff. We then made our way to the hipper neighborhoods, again walking all over the city as we ate our way through it. With some misgivings we bit the bullet and bought tickets to a Flamenco show. It was mesmerizing as the guitarist rocked back and forth in his chair as he strummed his guitar, the vocalist belted her Spanish song in a low register, and the three dancers took turns pounding the stage, swirling and moving their feet at a pace too quick to count. The Flamenco show was reason enough to visit Madrid and the best ‘tourist’ event I think I’ve ever attended. We stayed in La Latina just doors down from a quaint cafe with the most buttery delicious croissants, drank coffee with the hipsters of Madrid, enjoyed our cañas in the local market and decided Barcelona has better local beer than Madrid, and felt the temperature slowly drop throughout the trip. Each of our days in Spain the skies were bright blue and the sun shone down, until our final day the weather never rose above 32F.  We walked around Madrid amidst the thick white clouds and fog, wearing every layer we had brought. While I was sad to leave Spain I could not find a way to get warm which (almost) made me miss the Tanzania heat but certainly ended my love affair with being in the cold and out of the humidity. Our final day I wrapped up my Christmas tour of indulgence, stopping in a pastry shop every time I found more room in my stomach to sample one more treat before leaving the land of too much.

I loved walking everywhere in Spain, the culture of tapas which I believe is the cure for post work hanger I am always suffering from, and getting to spend time with two really good friends. Spending 9 days away from work and in another world was restful. Spending the week traveling also got both of us really excited about our upcoming travel adventures following our time with GHSP. But for now, work can’t wait and a busy semester lies ahead.

Within 30 minutes of landing in Tanzania and sitting in the cab with broken ac as we drove to our apartment my elbow creases were already profusely sweating and I knew I was home.