As the sun was setting in Madrid last week, I went to a plaza in the Principe Pio area with my daughter Audrey to watch Spain take on France in the semifinal round of the Euro Cup 2024.

There was a giant screen that was put up by the government so the football-crazy Spaniards could watch the match that was being held at the Olympiastadion in Berlin.

On the way to the location from our AirBnb near the Matadero section of the city, the streets were deserted.

Only public buses could be seen on the streets and only a handful of people were seen roaming the streets.

Some of them were carrying grocery bags and running toward their apartments knowing that the game was already in play.

One guy inside the bus was on his smartphone and he suddenly yelled and raised his fist.

As I was in Spain, I exactly knew which team had scored a goal.

A few moments later, he gasped. And then he uttered something I could not understand.

But I knew it was a cuss word.

France had equalized.

Pretty soon, we were out of the bus and found ourselves walking alongside a large group of people, mostly young guys.

Many of them were carrying plastic and eco bags with cans of cerveza inside those bags.

Accompanying the tasty lager was one of Spain’s most favored finger food: Patatas fritas (Potato chips).

Like them, I came prepared.

I also had two almost-freezing 500ml cans of beer, San Miguel, of course, inside my eco bag. And yes, there was a bag of Hnos Ortiz Sans potato chips, which I consider the best in the whole world.

Just minutes after our arrival, there was a roar and those around me — mostly clad in crimson — were celebrating.

Spain had scored another goal and was now up 2-1.

I joined in the celebration as though I was one of them.

But having visited the country four times in the last six years, I was beginning to feel like one.

How can you not love Spain?

We share the same vibrant energy with the Spaniards.

Their language is not entirely foreign to us. We use many of their words without knowing they are of Spanish origin.

Sometimes, we utter Spanish phrases during our daily conversations not knowing they mean exactly the same thing.

Oftentimes, I would just sit in the open-air cafeteria and cerveceria listening to their conversations and marveling at their gestures and their facial expressions.

Mind you, watching someone talking to someone on the phone is a delight. You could feel his or her energy and their emotions.

The Spaniards love to have long lunches and gather around the table drinking beer and conversing as if the day’s not going to end.

If you want to travel around, there is the Metro, one of the world’s finest. The inter-city buses are also amazing. Generally, it is safe to walk around even at night.

The grocery is cheap given the quality of their commodities.

Everywhere you go in Spain, it is the same thing.

You go to Galicia and people there also do as what the Madrilenos do.

Pamplona? Same thing. The people — almost always — are warm and friendly.

But there’s one thing about being there during the summer that I don’t like.

The heat is almost unbearable.

Summers in Europe are way too different than summer in the Philippines.

The Spanish summer is sizzling hot and I am not being exaggerated.

Two years ago, I also had the same experience when I went to Paris in June.

If you can avoid going in the summer, book a trip in the spring or in the fall.

That’d be perfect. Light jacket and the crisp, cool air. How can you beat that?

Still, the scorching heat is not going to stop me from going next summer.

Spain is simply sensational.

The food. The drink. The vibes. Everything.

This early, I am looking forward to that journey.

Viva España!