A season of slowness...

“You can’t get healed where you got wounded.”

I remember hearing this sentence somewhere, though I no longer remember where.

After my hectic and overloaded schedule in Baku, Spain felt like stepping into a hollow space - a pause. Teaching, overtime work, preparing lectures, checking exam papers - all of it suddenly disappeared. For the first time in a long while, I had time to rest.

But resting made me feel guilty.

I knew I needed to slow down, yet I kept resisting it. My mind was still full of to-do lists written months, even years ago. I felt as if I had to keep moving, even when there was nowhere to rush.

But the truth is the truth. Eventually, I admitted it reluctantly. And let Spain teach me whatever it needed to teach.

The first lesson was the importance of slowing down.

Spanish people truly love slowness. They wake up late, spend long hours drinking their morning coffee, chat endlessly afterwards, and take long lunch breaks. None of it felt familiar to me at the beginning.

But guess what?

By the end of my stay, I was okay with waking up late sometimes. I no longer felt irritated when people walked slowly in front of me. Spending an hour sipping my coffee after breakfast or taking long walks gradually became part of my routine.

That’s when I learned the beauty of dolce far niente - the sweetness of doing nothing.

While living there, I also realized something important: my family can live without me for a while, my work can function without me, even the world can go on without me.

But the one person who cannot live without me… is me.

This realization is not about selfishness. It is not about putting yourself at the center of the universe. It is simply about loving yourself.

And I am still learning how to do that.

For most of my life, I respected myself more than I loved myself. Respect creates a certain distance between you and yourself. Love, on the other hand, brings you closer.

In Spain, I began to close that distance.

Slowly. And honestly, it is still difficult.

I remember the first days there were very hard. I had to figure out everything on my own. The culture, the people, the language, the country, the rules - everything was new. And in a way, I was new there too.

Spain also taught me that I can take risks.

Before this experience, I never considered myself a risk-taking person. But packing your life into a 23-kilogram suitcase and moving to a place where you don’t know a single person is a risk.

Another thing I discovered is that discipline does not always require pressure. Even without the stress of my usual routine, I rebuilt many of my habits there - healthy breakfasts, daily walks, and drinking enough water.

Spain helped me return to small but important routines.

Ah, Spain… I will miss you.

I will miss the soft, brown avocados. The mandarin trees near Marina Española station. The palm trees along the roads. The constant noise of motorbikes that never seemed to stop - not even at night. And the laughter of people walking home in the early morning after long hours at the bars.

All these small things became part of my story there.

And maybe, in some quiet way, they became part of me too.

And perhaps that is what journeys are truly for…