It’s a strange feeling flying from Scandinavia to Spain in the same afternoon. That morning, I woke up early to take photos—not too early though since it was late fall in the high latitudes—before we made our way to the airport.

The moorish palaces and bustling streets of Andalusia quickly faded into vast deserts and mountain ranges—the occasional highway or small town here and there. On the descent, clouds began to form, and in an instant, the mountains erupted with lush forests spilling over granite cliffs into the valleys below. Villages of red-tiled houses punctuated the landscape with the question: why weren’t we staying here longer?

I wanted to put a few lines together to give some insight, past the instagramable moments, into our daily lives here in Spain, and show that while it’s not all butterflies and rainbows, it’s still good.

Granada, one of the major cities in the region of Andalusia, is home to the most visited monument in all of Spain. It felt wrong spending a month this close to it and not visiting, so Thursday morning we decided to hop a train and spend a couple of days exploring the city.

Stepping into la Catedral de Sevilla, the 112 degree heat of summer in southern Spain and the sticky, sweat-soaked masks on our faces faded into the background. Here was a place that had survived so many phases of history, war, and reconfiguration.

With travel restrictions loosening for various parts of the world, people are thinking more and more about getting back on a plane. Though, international travel may still be intimidating for some. This was our experience entering the European Union this summer.

With a record heat-wave forecasted, we decided to take a local cooking class. Neither of us are foodies, but learning about local cuisine is such a good way to immerse yourself in the culture.

I woke up to a notification on my phone from American Airlines: “Your flight from DCA to BOS will now depart at 6:30pm.” Groggy from the late night packing away our lives outside of the carry-on and backpack each, I struggled to remember when that flight was supposed to leave in the first place. “Delayed” appeared in red lettering across my phone.

There’s something daunting about sitting in front of a screen and trying to discern what life will look like on another continent enough to make informed decisions about it.