Living in Spain by the Spanish Clock

Morning in Spain.

I dropped the kids off, met a friend, and we planned to rent a kayak and get back to work after.

But the kayak place? Opened at 11am, not 10am like Google said.

Because what does Google know about Spanish rhythm?

So I went back home.

Did some guilt yoga.

Shower. Smoothie.

Logged into a call with a bright “Good morning!”

It was already 12pm.

But here in Spain, that’s basically morning.

The sun rises after 7am.

Schools start at 9am.

Everything begins an hour or two later.

No one’s rushing.

Work at 11am? Makes sense.

Lunch at 3pm? Sure.

Playdates at 6pm.

Dinner at 8:30pm.

Meeting friends at the bar? Not before 10:30pm.

I mean, the sun only sets after 9:30pm.

So we’re adjusting.

No more hikes at 8am, more like 10am.

We stay out at the pub until midnightand

and still leave before everyone else.

Slowly, something in us is shifting.

We’re learning that time here doesn’t rush

It unfolds

Like the sun, slow to rise and unhurried to set

And our bodies follow

We’re breaking the link between the time on our phone

and the time of the sun

There’s something soft in this way of living

It gives space

For breath, for presence

For what is, not just what should be

Because in Spain, life doesn’t run late

It runs on a different rhythm

And we’re learning how to dance to it