When I arrived in Valencia, Spain this May to study abroad, I quickly realized that the region boasts some of the greatest oranges on Earth. Truly. The warm, dry climate and its proximity to the Mediterranean coast make Valencia a perfect locale to grow orange trees. It’s no wonder, then, that the orange juice I drank there was the best I’ve ever had. It was so delicious that I can confidently say it was life-changing — but not for the reason you might think.
Sure, this glorious orange juice has forever altered my palate — industrial Tropicana will never taste the same again. But the real gem about this juice was the lesson it taught me — that something as simple as a freshly-squeezed orange can change your worldview if you take a moment to appreciate its beauty.
My first weekend in Spain, I took a day trip to the coastal town of Peñíscola. On the drives there and back, my eyes remained an inch away from the bus window. I marveled at a tapestry of rolling hills, quaint villages and, most strikingly, unending rows of orange trees. When I got back home, I — in hindsight, laughably — asked my host mom, “Do they grow oranges in Valencia? Or something?”
With a kind smile, she said, “Espera un momento, corazón,” and she hurried into the kitchen. I heard the slice of a knife and the whir of a juicer, and soon after, she returned to me with a glass of glowing orange juice. “Bébelo,” she said, and I brought the liquid to my lips.
I was shaken to the core. Or rather, I was squeezed to the pith. I was convinced that I had just tasted the nectar of gods, a sunrise in a glass. The juice was almost as thick as syrup. Pools of the brightest, sweetest orange burst on my tongue. As the juice slid down my throat, it felt like sunshine was pouring into my stomach. I must have looked visibly stunned, because my host mom doubled over laughing and collapsed into me with a hug.
It took me several hours to finish the glass. I savored every sip, letting its magic mellow on my taste buds. I was amazed how such a humble thing, when I stopped to completely and utterly experience it, could bring me so much joy. Granted, this was probably the best orange juice I’ll encounter in my lifetime. But it was still, just, simply, a glass of orange juice, a drink I had consumed hundreds of times before without a second thought.
The orange juice was only the beginning. After those transcendent sips, I began to experience my surroundings with a heightened awareness. I noticed giggling boys chasing one another in the park on my walk to class. I smiled each time my professor remarked “super-mega-guay” with his deep, lavish Spanish accent. At the beach, I felt my sundress billow in the sea breeze. And when I returned home, I closed my eyes to take in the scent of tortilla de patatas wafting from the stove.
I moved through the summer in this way, taking time to appreciate each and every sensation, from sights to sounds, from tastes to smells. As I did, I realized how ripe the world is for joy — whether in nature, on city streets or in the comfort of home — if I just paid attention. All around me were small, yet profound, opportunities to experience life to the fullest. I took advantage of any chance to gaze upwards at hovering palm tree branches, listen to live flamenco in the neighborhood plaza, hug my host mom or juice an orange in her kitchen.
When I think back on my summer abroad, what comes to mind first are not the people I met nor the famed landmarks I saw — though I cherish those friendships and those travels dearly. Remarkably, the little things — like my afternoons savoring orange juice — constitute my fondest memories. In those moments, I was deeply present, mindful of the everyday beauty in my midst. In those moments, I felt the most joy.
Now that I’m back on Grounds, I’m finding similar little ways to feel, experience and reflect. I’ve basked in the Virginia sun on the Lawn, and I’ve belly laughed in the company of old friends. I’ve even enjoyed a bottle of Tropicana, which — though it cannot compare to Valencia orange juice — still has the nostalgic, sweet flavor of my childhood. My newfound understanding that ordinary things can be extraordinary has given me an eye for life’s little treasures.
I encourage you to live intently this year, appreciating these moments of mundane beauty, whether following the arched motif of West Range or sighing under a blast of air conditioning in Newcomb Hall. Maybe, at least, they’ll lift the corner of your mouth in momentary delight.
Kate Johnson is a Life Editor for The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at life@cavalierdaily.com.
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