It’s curious how summer always brings with it a
mix of happiness and nostalgia. The excitement for what’s to come, and the
melancholy of those sweet memories from the past that now rest like an old
postcard.
In the same way, there are trips that hold
unexpected moments—like a scene you didn’t know you needed. Like cycling
through ancient ruins in Thailand, the sun on your face, Buddhas guarding time,
and columns that seem to touch the sky.
A sweet sense of freedom that takes us back to
those endless childhood afternoons, when we pedaled without stopping—above all,
without knowing how far we could go.
Perhaps that’s why Verano Azul comes to
mind, the TV show that marked a generation with its blend of innocence and
discovery. You don’t have to be born in the ’80s to feel that spirit. I didn’t
even get to watch it, but its essence remains intact in every bike that crosses
dusty paths, in every conversation shared beneath the shade of a fig tree.
Not out of nostalgia, but because of the way
everything fits together: the open air, the bicycles, that feeling of being
exactly where you’re meant to be—not rushing to get anywhere, just pedaling,
looking around, and breathing.
Because every summer becomes a kind of ritual, and if we ever doubt where we’re headed, it will be enough to look back and remember how that melody sounded, the one we heard so many times: “Del barco de Chanquete no nos moverán.” Because deep down, we all carry a bit of Bea, Desi, Pancho, Piraña, and the rest inside us. We all have (and deserve) a blue summer that lasts forever, with a thousand stories to tell.
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