The Things You Do on Vacation That You’d Never Do at Home: A Spanish Confession

There are things I do on vacation that I’d never—ever—do at home.

Like walking 30,000 steps a day without even realizing it. Or eating a double scoop of gelato twice a day for ten straight days. Or running through the streets of Madrid at sunrise, pretending I’m training for the Running of the Bulls—when in reality, I just needed to justify that fourth tapa.

Spain does something to a man.

It started in Mallorca—an island paradise where even the olives and goat cheese just taste different. I landed there with noble intentions: journal my thoughts like Hemingway, observe the culture like a wise old soul, eat modestly. By day two, I was fully converted to Spanish vacation mode: buying pastries like the new Publix just opened, napping like it was my birthright, and ordering churros with chocolate just to feel like I belonged.

From Mallorca, it was on to Seville, where the sun is hot (107 degrees hot), the flamenco is hotter, and I began living life by the empanada. In Seville, I discovered that eating tapas isn’t just about food—it’s a philosophy. A way of sampling life one delicious, questionably healthy bite at a time.

On a day trip to Córdoba, I strolled through the Mezquita in silence, pretending I was a thoughtful wanderer like old Papa Hemingway himself. What would Ernest have written about these mosaic arches and quiet courtyards? Probably something deep and tragic. I mostly just thought about lunch.

Then it was on to Granada—by train, of course. Because in Spain, trains aren’t just a mode of transportation; they’re a way of life. Smooth, punctual, and entirely unintelligible if you don’t speak the language. I spent much of my time staring at the departure board like it was the Rosetta Stone, my high school Spanish offering little consolation to my malfunctioning Google Translate app.

In Granada, the Alhambra ruins made me feel both very small and very blessed. The detail! The history! The surrounding view! The stairs! So many stairs.

By the time we arrived in Madrid, my legs were numb, my stomach perpetually full, and my heart wide open. Madrid is a city that moves—fast, loud, bold—but also knows how to slow down for a three-hour dinner and a midnight stroll. I woke early to run through the streets, dodging pigeons and pastelerías, attempting to sweat out last night’s chorizo.

And honestly? Running the streets is still the best way to get to know a city. In a strange land where I don’t speak the language and every corner holds something unexpected—a street musician, a café, a cathedral—I feel like I can run forever. Untethered. Without a care or thought for the burdens awaiting me back home.

And that’s the magic of it. The freedom. The permission to be someone different for a little while. Slowing down. Listening more. Laughing freely. Being present.

But the best part? The part that no amount of tapas, gelato, or flamenco shows could match?

I got to travel with my daughter. How many old geezers get to spend two whole weeks traipsing the Iberian Peninsula alone with their precious little girl?

Katie’s all grown now—wise, worldly, and entirely too fluent in the ways of train travel and Google Maps. She led the way through alleyways and marketplaces, museums and miradores. She handled the bookings, translated the menus, and reminded me gently (but persistently) to wear sunscreen.

But most importantly, she shared herself. We talked about life and faith and food. We watched sunsets and street performers and people from every corner of the globe. And in those quiet moments between destinations, I saw glimpses of who she’s become—and maybe, just maybe, she saw me as a dad she’ll still always look up to.

So yes, I do things on vacation I would never do at home.

And maybe that’s the point.

Because when you step out of your routine, off your turf, and into a world where you don’t know the language or the rules or what’s in your soup, you also step into possibility. Into wonder. Into grace.

And if you’re lucky—really lucky—you step into memories that will stay with you forever.

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Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. His newest book, Whining for Posterity, releases on July 1.