Life on a tropical island is good in all senses, except maybe for one. There is no spring here.
If you are born in this warm and mild climate, you will hardly understand what it means when a long, grey and freezing winter is over and nature gets more humanistic.
You don’t need to wear layers of clothes and run from a bus to a building very fast, trying to stay outside as little as possible.
The sun shines more and more, snow and icicles melt, water drops from every side and runs down in small springs.
You feel something in the air: expectation, renewal, intrigue, hope. And love.
In my city they say when real spring comes drivers need to be more attentive because they lose control seeing women wearing short skirts again.
All in all, it’s an adventure given by nature. And I am missing it a lot.
A couple of weeks ago I had a chance to visit London. It was still cold, around or below zero, ice here and there.
I was walking in the city center and suddenly saw a bare tree in the St.Paul’s cathedral’s garden. It gave gave beautiful white flowers. It was my spring of this year.
Here in Madeira my colleague Zhenya and I are hallucinating. We tell each other that the sun shines brighter and birds sing more. Although it’s not true, nothing changed.
But spring is inside of us, we can’t help it.