TEFLees in Spain

Typing at my window this evening, I was struck with a sudden epiphany. You know that old saying about how you don’t really know what you got ‘till it’s gone? Well, I guess that’s true in some cases, but this has more to do with returning than leaving. As I was saying, while my fingers thundered over the keyboard, I was startled by the rapidly waxing sound of what initially sounding like the whup-whup-whupping cadence of a coming copter.

Turning to shield myself from this impending doom, I realized with a mix of disgust and relief that what I’d thought to be a helicopter was actually a pair of giant bats making a beeline for my open French doors, on a path straight for my head. As I raised my hands once again to block these rabid terrors I saw that they were, in fact, some other winged beast of Iberia.

Crouching back in my chair to keep a safe distance, I inspected them with kiddish curiosity. Midnight blue color. White racing striped wings. Fascinating beak-like protrusions where the faces should have been. Nervous twitchy hopping from their tree branch perches. Musical, whistling mating calls. Why do I feel like I’ve seen this before?

Memories of sunshine and flip flops started slowly coming back to mind, creeping in like the first thaw of – that’s it! Spring! Old Mr. Groundhog must certainly have seen his shadow this February after his long wintertime nap, and as the chirping birds and blooming flowers have now reminded me, the rest of Mother Nature is finally coming back to life as well.

The winds have retreated northwards, the clouds have thinned down to sparse wisps of distant white like the hairline of a 90 year old, and good ole Jack Frost has taken his nipping annoyances to the southern hemisphere, leaving us madrileños to enjoy our morning coffees under crystal skies and delightful Spanish sunshine.

You can see it in the people’s faces as well. Those typically terse old men behind the bar now serve up bocadillos with a twitching at the corner of their mouths that if you looked close enough, would almost trick your eyes into seeing the illusion of a smile. The people in the metro hustle around like the underside of an anthill, rushing to get outside into the sun. And, thanks be to heaven above, those tiny little “dogs,” or “rats with fur” as I prefer to call them, have finally shed those terribly tacky wintertime hoodies forced on them by their owners.

Ah springtime. Time to kick back, do some cleaning, dig out the Florida-boy flip flops from the back of the closet, and put on my shades – it’s gonna be a warm one today.