Sun-Burnt

On my way to school (yes, 45 and still learning!), the soles of my thin sneakers heat up as if I were walking on a red-hot frying pan. “My feet are on fire” is no longer just a figure of speech – it’s reality.

Before every turn, my eyes constantly scan the street, searching for the shaded side. Reaching my daily goal of 15,000 steps suddenly feels like an impossible task. I’ve even nicknamed the five-minute walk to the metro station “The Road of Death” because there isn’t a single inch of shade.

The Spanish sun is relentless. Sometimes, a creeping fear settles in that my skin might burst into flames, just like the pieces of paper my brother and I used to burn with a magnifying glass. My coffee is black, avoiding milk entirely during the heat, watching the ice melt away in seconds.

Summer is in Madrid.

This heat will last until September, and it completely transforms the lifestyle of the locals. From the outside, people tend to think Spaniards love the hot weather. But from what I’ve noticed, that isn’t true at all; they just know how to manage their lives around it.

Windows stay firmly closed. If you dare open one, you’re hit with air that feels like a 180°C oven, completely devoid of freshness. Instead, everyone shuts their persianas (external blinds) to block out the sun. No one ventures out in the middle of the day, except the tourists, and if they absolutely must, they stick strictly to the shaded side of the street. Life only returns to the city after sunset. You suddenly find yourself in the middle of a never-ending chorus of loud conversations, emotional speeches, and the chaotic movements of the crowd.

I prefer mornings. Since the nights in Madrid are much cooler, the freshest time of day is that sweet spot between 7:00 and 8:00 am. The sun is still low. The air is so crisp you actually want to wrap yourself in a cozy cardigan. Our dog, Lee (yes, she’s from Moscow too), loves the green grass of a lawn near our place. Normally, all the greenery is completely burnt at this time of year. The soil is a dry, dusty yellow, and the grass is like straw. But a few lawns are watered just enough to preserve a bit of refreshing green for the neighborhood. Sometimes, I’ll head to a nearby coffee shop and (if I’m lucky) take a slow sip of a café con leche with perfectly creamy foam. Then, the day truly begins. And I hide away, like a vampire.