Daylight Exile
December 9, 2021 Travel Spain Valencia
A few years ago, having just returned from a trip, I was small-talking with a client about Berlin’s gray December skies. After I mentioned how surreal it feels to have been in a totally different environment just 24 hours earlier, she mockingly raised an eyebrow: “Oh, you experienced the magic of air travel?”.
That magic of air travel? I didn’t sense it in the daylight glow, but rather in the everyday fabric, in having transplanted myself to a place where the oranges hang from the trees.
The conversation came to mind when I was in Spain last week, squinting at the bright days and walking in aimless circles through Valencia: That magic of air travel? I didn’t sense it in the daylight glow, but rather in the everyday fabric, in having transplanted myself to a place where the oranges hang from the trees, streets smell like they were recently washed with soap, and time stands just a little bit still.
