08/09/2026
I can’t let summer come to a close without an ode to our pueblo, and so fitting that today is el dia de Extremadura.
It’s been 14 years since I first walked the streets of this tiny, but lion-hearted village, and I still remember exchanging looks of shared confusion with locals at how una guiri Americana could end up there. Heres the thing, though. In the summer, this town of 260 doubles, maybe even triples in size. Children and grandchildren come pouring in from Madrid, Barcelona, Sevilla, Bilbao. All who left for bigger jobs, better opportunities, and big city lives, are pulled back like moths to the proverbial flame, in search of one thing. Simplicity. Peace from the noise of city life.
Stop at the bakers for fresh muffins for breakfast at 11. Make it home for lunch by 3, and if you’re lucky sleep the hottest part of the day off until 6. Have an afternoon coffee at 7pm right before staying at the local pool until it closes at 8:30. Nod to the bar man as you slip into your plastic chair at 10 or 11 for dinner. Chat with the abuelos in the park as an ice cream drips down your chin at midnight. Be the first in bed at 1 am, or follow the kids with the soccer ball when they drag their feet home at 4. Rinse. Repeat. For an outsider, it looks like zero schedule. For those who know, it’s exactly the rhythm the pueblo requires from June to early September. I feel so grateful to be able to call myself an adoptive daughter of Valverde, and even more grateful that my children will grow up knowing the values and freedom that can only be experienced in a tiny Spanish village. Feliz día a todos los extremeños 💚 🤍 🖤
