Tag: lemon

Laying down roots

Laying down roots

by Lemoní ♥ 3 Comments

I used to daydream about living abroad – of having sunglasses permanently fixed on top of my head and eating fresh watermelon for breakfast. But even when that daydream became a reality, it still never felt “real”.  

Until now. 

Because it’s only when you start to call somewhere home and erm, get yourself a mortgage (!) that you know you’ve taken more than a fanciful leap of faith.

As first-time buyers in any country, the process was never going to be easy. But taking the toro by the horns in a different language, well it has been an experience for sure. 

We celebrated our 3-year Spainversary surrounded by boxes in 37°C, arms heavy from the booster vaccine. (Note to self: never again move house during a heatwave).

Gathering up the last rogue sheets of plástico de burbujas (that’s bubble-wrap to you and me), which were blowing uncontrollably under the air-con, I took one last look around at our first Spanish home. 

The one where the smells of delicious lunches and sounds of siesta snores mixing in the courtyard gave us our first feel of local Spanish life. The one where we would greet our elderly neighbours on the stairs as they sauntered for an evening paseo in the park. And of course, the one where we spent an intense few months indoors under one of Europe’s strictest lockdowns…

In other words, the one we’ll never forget. 

Then, with the help of several sweaty friends, we loaded a van of our worldly treasures, stopping for frequent cold beer breaks. Driving across a city that we love, to a home that we own, with a bunch of super amigos, my smile was as wide as the sol.

Only 20 minutes away, our new piso is close to the airport, which gives me the feeling of being closer to HOME, as loco as that sounds. 

But of course, being your own landlord comes with new responsibilities. No sooner had we walked through the door did I fire up a YouTube tutorial about “How to maintain your air con”.

And as is always the case, teething problems presented themselves purposefully – just to test us. “Completely normal”, I was reassured by the more experienced veterans of moving-home. 

But I am happy to report that any out-dated stereotypes of the “mañana, mañana” attitude that Spaniards are unfairly labelled with were instantly broken, and any problems reported were fixed rápido.

I go around, picking out perfect places to showcase my collection of ceramics, which have been chosen with love from our travels across the country; an olive oil jug from a market in Sevilla, tile coasters from a rural Andalusian farmhouse selling the wares of local craftsmen, some outdoor pieces from the ceramic shops in the backstreets of Valencia. I go outside to our little balcony and measure up. 

Then I turn my attention to potting my lemon tree. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. 

Blessed with the morning sun, she is going to thrive. I read up on how to care for her and my olive tree, planted with elation the same day, whilst appreciating how much better that first coffee of the day tastes with the sun on my skin. 

And so, broken pleasantries with the neighbours exchanged and obligatory ‘new home’ announcement posted on the socials, we finally settle down to toast the next chapter with a chilled cava. 

The next chapter, which will see us (and our little citrussy shrub) continue to live and thrive in the Mediterranean sun. How could we be ready for the adventure to be over when it is only just beginning? 

And to those family and friends planning a visit, well… 
“Mi casa es tu casa”.

So, this is how it feels to lay down those roots. 

Contentment:

It’s not the destination…

It’s not the destination…

by Lemoní ♥ 1 Comment

…It’s the glory of the ride!

Just when I thought a change of direction was in order, here I am again, writing about the unavoidable topic of language. 

But it’s a theme that creeps into every single aspect of daily life. We (expats and locals alike) are always thinking about it, talking about it or experiencing it. Or at least it feels that way. 

This time, it was the daily commute that left me pondering.

Yes, I’m one of those still “lucky” (hmm) enough to leave the house every day for work. Mostly, I am super jealous leaving R in bed until 5 minutes before his 9am meeting starts. But when I step outside onto the streets slowly rousing into weekday life, I do feel lucky. It helps that those dark winter mornings seemed pretty short lived. 

When asked what he missed most about “the commute”, it wasn’t the congestion and torrential rain on the M80, unsurprisingly. Nor was it the walk to the bus stop in 40ºC, which saw his light blue shirt turn a few shades darker by the time he reached the office. It was the “bridge” between getting up and starting work, that separation between home and office.

My transport survey (conducted with my one semi-willing participant) also found that on balance, the 30-second transit between bed and desk was favoured overall and given the choice, he would never commute again!

For so many, it is a thing of the past, fin. That 2x daily, 10x weekly routine where the thought of a crammed underground, delayed train, traffic jam or fear of being knocked off your saddle brought on a daily dose of the dreads, has been replaced by a new way of working. 

After a few months of living carefree (see: unemployed) in Madrid, I longed for a commute. For somewhere to go every day, for routine. I was prepared to travel just for this experience but was lucky enough to land a job only 35 minutes from mi casa (roughly the same as my old one sin the connection at the infamous Glasgow Central low-level).

I don’t have a car so navigating the maze of narrow streets and impossibly tight parking spaces is one less stress. Instead, I have a range of cracking public transport options at my disposal. 

Being a super walkable and runner-friendly city, a home-bound commute on foot is my favourite at any time of year (except July and August when I am guaranteed to perish). 

Walking home late one night on the phone to my brother, he asked if it (I) was safe. I hadn’t given it a second thought. Notoriously late finishing times here mean that the streets are buzzing at this time of day, with shops still open and bar terraces packed at 10pm with most of Madrid out enjoying a post-work drink and tapa, under AC or heaters depending on the season, but never undeterred from enjoying life outdoors.

Alternatively, I would hop on the bus home on crisp winter nights, through the city centre to see the dazzling Christmas lights on Gran Vía. 

But overall, the Metro is my preferred choice to travel to work. It is reliable, quick and…interesting.

5 stops. Just enough time to listen to a language podcast or complete a few exercises on Duolingo. But when I take out the headphones and look up from my phone momentarily (careful to avoid eye contact with the busker belting out a Spanglish rendition of “Let it be” much too loud for this time in the mañana), then the real learning begins.

Tuning in to a snippet of conversation here or a phone call there, just picking up a few words without context (then making up the rest in my head)! 

Then there was the announcement. I must have heard it every day, but this was the first time I really listened. 

Every morning for a week, I tuned in: “¡Atención! Estación en curva…” 

It became an obsession. But try as I might, I just couldn’t piece it all together.

So, one day, I started typing it on my phone (super sad, or super smart, eh?)

“…al salir, tengan cuidado…” 

The next day, a little more: “…para no introducir el pie…” 

On the Friday morning, full of weekend anticipation and glee, I completed the sentence:

“¡Atención! Estación en curva, al salir, tengan cuidado para no introducir el pie entre coche y andén.” 

Roughly translated as: “take care when putting your foot between the train and platform”. We’ve all seen what happens to the wee stick man on the posters.

WHAT a sense of achievement to see it written down in the notes section of my phone, where it remains should I ever wish to quote a public transport announcement to my new amigos. Ha! It’s also a phrase loaded with juicy complex grammar, so that helps justify the ridiculous amount of time it took for me to nail it.

There and then I discovered that the commute is an opportunity for learning, for appreciating, for understanding society wherever you call home. 

It’s also a huge opportunity to feel involved in that society.

I was once told that you never feel truly settled until you live AND work somewhere. In the early days, I couldn’t understand this. Before I got a job here, I explored the city every day until my legs ached. I covered kilometres, getting my bearings and discovering things I would never have a chance to if I spent all day in la oficina.

But now I get it. Every day I meet new people, from all over the world. And I have colleagues who have been accommodating, helpful and lovely. It’s not the strangers on the street who tell you about the bra shop where they give out free cava with every fitting, or who invite you for weekends away to small towns in rural La Mancha (because that would be weird).

And every morning I get off the metro and walk for 15 minutes up Calle Serrano – the most prestigious street of barrio de Salamanca – with its tree lined streets, designer shops and glamourous people. One day I followed a pair of red soles past the Gucci shop where Cristiano Ronaldo and Georgina Rodríguez first locked eyes. Meanwhile, a homeless man with missing limbs sat outside playing ‘Despacito’ on the accordion. 

Understanding society is a work in progress. 

I got the commute, for which I’ll always be grateful. And while the destination may always be the same, it doesn’t have to be mundane. 

Do it right and you learn something new every single day. Do it wrong and it can change your mood quicker than when the postie leaves the wee red card without even trying your doorbell. Grr.

Learning aside, it’s also prime time for precious family catch-ups and lengthy voice notes to and from my bestest amigas.

Anyway, the next time you find yourself navigating a European underground transport network where the announcements are not translated, just remember…

Mind the gap.

(please)

Learning opportunity:

Here and now

Here and now

by Lemoní ♥ 1 Comment

This just in. My pleasurable (and until now, personal) pastime that is writing has officially transitioned into my professional life. 

Once I got over the initial excitement of telling family and friends that I had a side-gig where I was allowed to CHOOSE MY OWN JOB TITLE and then updating my LinkedIn profile accordingly (more about this later), I realised that I still had a longgg way to go in keeping this dreamboat (raft of reality) afloat.

A quill, ink pot, peace and quiet and a respectable intention to change the world is an outdated writers toolkit, sadly. A few centuries late to the party, I have discovered that there are deadlines to meet, a virtual world to engage and the pressure of being contactable round the clock (does anyone go offline these days)? 

Gone are the days I can wistfully type and edit at my own pace. There are people waiting, expecting. I am no longer writing for me, or you it would seem *shamefully checks date of last blog update*. Although I vow to be back once I’ve “found my flow” which means, when I’ve discovered how to speed up the process.

With that in mind, I’ve decided to challenge myself. I’m going to bash out some quick and vastly unedited posts on a semi-regular basis and then lay them bare for you, dear readers of Lemoní. Of course, I am entirely uncomfortable with this since, when it comes to sharing my personal posts, something as minor as the late discovery of a typo or thinking up a better descriptive word post-publication has the ability to unhinge the inner perfectionist in me.

My uber-efficient German colleagues have instilled a “fill every second of every day with something productive” mentality in me and it’s sure rubbing off: Can’t. Sit. Still. Must. Get. Up. Earlier. Must. Write. Faster. Not being a qualified speed-typist isn’t the problem, nor is being short of ideas. But with screen time at an all time high, there’s only so much I can give.

Back to the day I updated my LinkedIn. I had two key updates that I was excited to jazz up my page with: One in the employment section where I revealed the writing gig, and the other in the languages section where I now boldly claim to have “Professional working proficiency” in Spanish (Ha)!

Excited as I was, I was busy too. So, I quickly made these amendments on my lunch-break alongside other life-admin tasks. A couple of clicks and the screen froze, the app shut down and I got irritated. I was in such a rush to tick another thing off my to-do list that I didn’t stop to realise the enormity of what I was actually doing: I was sharing my successes (of which I was immensely proud) whilst opening a door to a whole other world – of potential opportunity.

I recently read that you can be so focused on what’s ‘next’ in life that you forget you are now exactly where you once wanted to be. And while there is nada wrong with striving for more, what ever happened to stopping to enjoy the moment?

I’m sure we’re all guilty of this.

I am living now what once seemed like an irrealizable dream. Within 18 months, amidst a global pandemic and thanks to some very generous new amigas, I find myself with not one, but two jobs as well as the first traces of a writing portfolio: the birth of my blog and some published articles too. And now…paid to write!

Not enough to give up the day job, let’s be clear. But nevertheless I am amused by the (almost mythical) creatives who frequented Paris in the 1920’s, the “Lost Generation” of writers who pleaded glamorous poverty i.e. too poor to buy books, but who always had enough for champagne, who were unwilling to give up the dream and who were generally just having a real-good time.

What I am trying to say is that I realised it is so easy to lose sight of the thrill of the journey while racing towards the “end goal”, which is what exactly? Your memoir? 

While we’re striving, are we really thriving? 

And there we have it – attempt número uno. Composed in 23 minutes on a commuter train platform. Lightning fingers.

*editing time undisclosed. Poco a poco.

Screen time:

Creative satisfaction:

A healthy dose

A healthy dose

by Lemoní ♥ 1 Comment

Today marks my 30th blog post!

Thirty times over the past year, I have clicked ‘publish’ and shared one of my stories. And if you have been following my musings, you will know that the theme of my writing so far has been about languages and my own personal experience of learning Spanish. The reason for this is because it has reflected so much more of my journey since moving to Madrid, and I’ve never been short of material! Documenting the ups and downs of language learning has allowed me to draw parallels with other aspects of life here and made it possible to express myself as I have adapted.

Moving abroad to start the next chapter of life, and fulfilling a life-long dream in the process brought on a cascade of emotions. And they were mostly overwhelmingly positive ones, like when I first arrived and would get up every morning, open the shutters, have a coffee and feel the sun on my face. The small lifestyle changes have often had the biggest impact, and I still have to pinch myself most days.

But, as new and exciting as it all was, there was an initial period of adjustment, as I tried to get my bearings, make friends, find work and generally get “set up” (whilst trying to fathom the popularity of ‘shelf milk’ in the supermercado). Naturally, there was a feeling of vulnerability, which I now realise was not solely due to my inability to communicate with little more than a few basic words of the lingo.

Wondering if I would ever shake this feeling, I once read that when you live in another country “you will always feel a little uncomfortable”, but that this should be viewed as a good thing, because this is what you thrive off. The adrenaline not only keeps on your toes, but it keeps you excited, and striving!

The flustering, floundering, little-lost-sheep moments which I have described just became part of my normal daily life and while I still have them, they are fewer as I become more “established”. Because two years on, I do have my bearings, I have made friends AND found work. I have explored endlessly and learned deeply and whilst language has been the common thread weaving through all aspects of life here, it hasn’t been the only thing tying it all together.

This became apparent recently when the first symptoms of coronavirus started being spluttered around our apartment. With no outdoor space and the air-con circulating the germs on high power mode, I accepted my fate, “in sickness and in health” and all that! Even two doses of trusty AstraZeneca couldn’t protect me from the fifth wave which is sweeping across Spain as fiercely as the July heatwave.

We didn’t have a COVID “action plan” and suddenly faced with the reality of the situation, we started scouring the notoriously hard to navigate government websites for information on what to do next.

Times like these are when the familiarity of ‘how things work back home’ is sorely missed – you know where you stand with the NHS, for example. On more than occasion, I have woken in the night panicking that once again, I had forgotten the emergency number here in Spain (which is 112 for reference), and before drifting back into a deep and peaceful sleep, I have already imagined a range of scenarios where I might need to call. Is there is an option in English when you connect? Afortunadamente, I have never had to find out, but I am curious.

Anyway, the initial phone appointment from the doctor didn’t have me as flustered as expected. She was patient and calm and I didn’t feel feeble for not understanding one or two of her questions. Going for tests, receiving results, following quarantine instructions – the process was surprisingly slick and simple.

It was only later when I relayed the whole experience to my mum that she asked “…and that was all in Spanish”? Pues, sí. And that’s when it hit me that the last week of “survival” has not been about which language I have spoken.

Yes, the anticipated daily check-in calls from the medical centre have involved a bit of prep – like learning the vocab for all the síntomas experienced that day, and between cough, headache, fever, chills, sore throat, loss of taste and smell, there has been quite a lot to learn! Of course, I wasn’t able to fully express how I really felt, which would be like waking up after drinking a full barrel of Rioja Gran Reserva, which you couldn’t smell, or taste (what a waste) but which you thought might help to ease the heaviest head-cold you were already suffering from, since not even the ridiculously large and hard to swallow paracetamol was helping. Instead I told the doctor: “Tengo tos” (I have a cough), which was also true.

So, as you can see, I am not trying to claim to have become suddenly fluent! But, I have accepted that this way of communicating has just become a part of life. And with that realisation, I view these situations differently, like exciting challenges spicing up daily interactions instead of as an obstruction that slows the process of anything I try to do.

And with this important attitude shift, along with a little bit of isolation-reflection, I realised that this is no longer just the beginning; this is the 2-year checkpoint, the “look how far I have come”. My sense of achievement and personal growth has been worth every moment of sweaty-palmed discomfort, but with so much of this amazing city and country still to enjoy, maybe it is time to stop overthinking verb tables and pronunciation techniques.

So, what will I write about instead? It is possible that this might be some sort of mad, rambling epiphany brought about by the virus or the heat (it is very hot), so I don’t feel best placed to make any commitments right now, but rest assured that any funny moments, flounders and fails won’t go unreported.

I hope it has been entertaining. It has been for me! Not only have I made myself laugh with some of my antics, but I have provided myself with some cracking writing material, whilst discovering a passion for language that was right under my nose the whole time. Behind the scenes, I will still be working hard on my progress because I still have goals. In the short-term, our first Spanish wedding of some wonderful friends, and the much-anticipated arrival of visitors for the first time since 2019, and in the long term, well, there are countless important linguistic milestones still to hit. But all with one key difference – sin pressure. From here, it will be one podcast, one language class, one Netflix show, one Penelope Cruz film, and one chapter of the grammar textbook at a time.

Furthermore, I hope you will try it. I encourage you to download the Duolingo app or listen to a Coffee Break languages podcast or watch a film with subtitles or tune into someone’s conversation the next time you are travelling. I hope you will embrace the dialects of your own country or learn more about the structure of English. Listen to the national anthems of other countries being sung with as much gusto as the Italians at the Euros or read aloud the Gaelic on road signs as you staycation in Scotland, or spot how many ridiculous metaphors Boris can use in one speech. Because it is captivating (not the Boris bit). And above all, be sympathetic and encouraging towards English language learners.

Mil gracias for coming on my journey so far, a journey which is faaar from over. And I hope you will come with me as I skip off down a different path through the lemon grove, in search of fresh content. And with inspiration in plentiful supply, I will continue to thrive and grow, embracing this dream come true as though mi vida depends on it!

Progress:

Refreshing retreat

Refreshing retreat

by Lemoní ♥ 1 Comment



Ah, the joy of travelling again. Travelling to holiday-type destinations that could only once be reached after a few hours at the airport and a few more in the sky, but can now be reached leisurely by train– and an extra speedy one at that. It’s a novelty, and one which I feel very grateful for.

Hopping on the high-speed AVE from Madrid Atocha station at 09:40 on a Friday morning, with a coffee and croissant in hand (consumed sneakily behind the mascarilla once on board) – it was all very civilised. I had overloaded my bag with reading material to pass the 1 hour 40-minute journey including three books about Spain and the latest National Geographic travel mag, featuring Spain on the cover. To fellow passengers, it must have looked like I had just touched down in the country for the first time and was frantically trying to cram everything there was to know, but really, I was just so excited at the prospect of exploring again so a refresher of all there was to see, do, eat, drink and visit wouldn’t do any harm!

Just as I was deciding which to start first, the film “The Witches” started showing on the small screens suspended from the roof. I loved that film as a child and now I was torn between watching for nostalgia (but with the added “complication” of Spanish subtitles), working through my selection of “must-reads” or staring mindlessly out of the window at the fields and fincas whizzing past, as we sped from the heart of Spain to edge at a rápido 300 kmph.

I chose the latter. With each kilometre that passed, the anticipation was building as we got closer to the famous coastline, visited and loved by so many, and closer to the real holiday I craved, having not left Madrid for almost one year.

Note that none of my entertainment options were tailored towards brushing up on my Valenciano…

The community of Valencia, including the city itself and nearby Alicante and Castellon, share this unique language as their mother tongue. Spanish comes secondary on all notices and announcements, followed by French or English. I was secretly dreading exposure to another language so “soon” into my own linguistic journey. Of course, there was no pressure to learn this regional idioma and I gently reminded myself that every trip I make within this diverse country is not primarily for language practice. There are as many important cultural and historical things to absorb which are just as relevant for sense of belonging and sometimes, something as simple as ordering a coffee and watching the world go by is enough of an achievement for one day.

Valencia (meaning valant or brave) was originally a swamp before the Romans transformed it into a retirement town for their soldiers. With the ruins still visible to this day, it is easy to get lost in the romance of the past. And while I don’t imagine that I work quite as hard, or voraciously as the Romans, I couldn’t think of a better place to wind down in later life. I can see why the Azahar coast features so frequently on “Place in the Sun” as likeminded people search for somewhere to settle, surrounded by sparkling seas and year-round sunshine.

So, it was hard to ignore the looming grey skies as the train approached Valencia. ¡Qué mala suerte! I thought I was escaping the thunderstorms expected in Madrid this weekend but at least here, when the clouds clear, a frescito sea breeze will replace the hot, sticky air that had started to dominate the capital every day since June arrived.

With skies grey or blue, I thought Valencia was beautiful regardless (much like my beloved Scotland)! On Saturday morning, families gathered on the steps of many of the city’s blue-domed churches and cathedrals, deciding where to take el aperitivo after celebrating the holy communion of wee María or Manuel. Several bells rang out in unison at 12 o’clock, and as a result of poor-planning, this coincided with exact moment that I was half-way up a bell-tower (of all things). Following recommendations, I was scaling the narrow stone steps in anticipation of the famous view across the rooftops and my first sighting of the sea but I ended up closer to the bottom than the top after that scare!

Except for one or two orange trees which I was quick to photograph for the ‘gram, it wasn’t the right time of year to see the city in all its scented glory. But, *top tip* lining the streets at Christmas time will be branches bulging with bright oranges, ready to be collected for juicing. The holy trinity of a Spanish breakfast wouldn’t be complete without the freshly squeezed OJ enjoyed alongside a café and tostada or something sweet – which I have come to appreciate for its simplicity.

Leaving Valencia behind but vowing to return soon, we travelled on up the coast to the beautiful “rock” of Peñíscola or Peniscola (depending on your Valenciano, Español, or maturity level).

Featuring in ‘Game of Thrones’ (season 6 apparently), the XIII castle dominated the view from every direction. It resembled a Greek Island with its white-washed walls, cobbled streets and crystal-clear water and the significant lack of tourists enhanced the feeling of isolation. I quickly got carried away with the idea of snapping up a holiday rental or better still, a writing retreat to escape to on weekends.

There was something about being by the sea again, the calming influence of the waves and the beauty of the quiet life that had me lingering outside every estate-agent window for a little daydream. Best of all, it was only a few hours from “home”.

While the return train journey was spent dreaming up the next adventure, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that that returning to Madrid did feel like returning home. Not in the comfy, nostalgic, heart-burstingly proud way that the feeling of returning home to Scotland evokes, but arriving back to 30°C and a summer buzz in the city quickly eliminated any trace of holiday blues!

I was glad of the reminder of how accessible this beautiful country was becoming once again, and under these unique and temporary circumstances, I was excited at the prospect of discovering the undiscovered and having it all to ourselves. Ok, I was also just as excited to share it again, when the time comes!

There is still so much left to see and do and I told myself again that there is no time limit to this great adventure. So, while the search for the dream writing retreat continues, the inspiration is ever-present.

Realistically, how much writing (or studying Español) would really get done with that distracting view of the sparkling turquoise Med, the glorious sunshine, lengthy lunch breaks, sleepy siestas, and crisp white wine disrupting the creative flow…

Maybe it’s safer to stay put.

At least for now!
 
 Dreams:
 

Cultivation

Cultivation

by Lemoní ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

The cultivation of a new skill is a process – a long, difficult, beautiful process – which is worth the short term (ahem) effort for the long term gains…

…I kindly reminded myself after a particularly stressful encounter at work left me suffering from a familiar bout of self-doubt.

A telephone call for what should have been a simple appointment cancellation left me confused when the (non Spanish) lady on the other end of the line launched into a full-blown telenovela in rápido Español. Identifying the words for “dog”, “kids” and “confinement”, I tried desperately to navigate around the unnecessary details she was bombarding me with, wishing that she would cut to the chase to ensure I understood the main purpose of the call (which was, as suspected, to cancel an appointment).

But before I had time to react, she suddenly switched languages and said (and I’m sure I detected a sigh): “You’re the one who only speaks English right?”

I was outraged.

It wasn’t even strictly true (although, in comparison to my polyglot colleagues then I suppose that narrows it down).To her, it was a simple observation which helped her distinguish between the staff, but it struck a nerve.

Because, this is how you are defined in an international workplace – by the languages you speak, not by the ones you are trying desperately hard to learn.

What she failed to see was the effort being put in behind the scenes to promote me from the “unilingual” category she had placed me in. Somewhere out-with the 40 hour working week, the maintenance of an exercise regime, a social life and a home, between regular and precious contact with family and friends, and the writing of a blog *pauses for breath*, there are the weekly Spanish classes, the attendance of intercambio events, the meetings with native friends, the stressful encounters AND the complicated phone calls to contend with…But this didn’t enter her radar – why would it?

“Ha” I answered, wondering if she herself had emerged from the womb fluent in four idiomas.

But why was I so offended? She was proud of her own linguistic achievements (and deservingly so), as I would be too. Correction: I WILL be too, only I vow to be sympathetic to the efforts of others.

Thoughts that it might be easier just to give up and accept that I have tried but I will never be Spanish and never sound Spanish enter my head frequently. Except this time, I spiralled.

Evidently affected by the remark, I made a quick life assessment, and decided that if I only had a time short time left in this world, the first to be culled from my list of hobbies and pastimes would probably be the learning of Spanish, which is ironic considering the blood, sweat and tears I have poured in so far. But I imagine that being bi-lingual has more use in life than it has beyond the grave…

At the end of the day, what you are left with are experiences and memories. One day, I will remember this beautiful chapter of life, not by the hours spent with my nose in a grammar textbook, but by the quality of life here, made richer only by the effort invested into the adoption of a new culture, the making of friends, the willingness to try new things, and of course, the learning of the language.

Despite having made a choice to dedicate hours, days, years to the latter in order to make life in another country easier, the process requires work. And while it may be 10 years before I allow myself to relax in the sun with a foreign language book (sin highlighter pen) and a celebratory cava, I know it will be worth it.

Because by then, the skill that I will have been cultivating over time will be practised and polished but probably never perfect. And it won’t even matter, not when I will be able to effortlessly navigate my way around the complex bureaucratic system, defend myself if and when required (an important linguistic milestone I am told) and chat freely and fluently with locals.

So, on the days that I confuse my tenses or ignorantly use a ‘n’ instead of an ‘ñ’, I will kindly remind myself that it is not a matter of life or death, and the things I stress about or think are so important have some fresh perspective once more.

One year on, despite writing with a strong focus on my language learning journey, this blog has been more than that. It is a documentation of experiences of life here in España so far – a different kind of cultivation – not just of a new skill, but of memories that have been created, collected and captured. Using the highs and lows of learning a language to mirror the highs and lows of learning a whole new lifestyle is the truest reflection I can offer.

But as long as I am living here in Spain (or living full stop), then I had better crack on.

Because if I stand any chance of shedding the undesirable reputation of being “the one who only speaks English” and impressing my multilingual European associates, then I had better start ripening PRONTO.

Determination:

Variety

Variety

by Lemoní ♥ 1 Comment

In order to keep up to date with what’s going on back home, I regularly tune in to the BBC news to catch the Prime Minister delivering one of his elaborate broadcasts. But try as I might to stay focused on the lengthy slideshow of stats, I find myself distracted by the peculiar language he uses to address the nation.

I sympathise with those learning English who may have been under the false impression that a Bo-Jo speech would make for a good listening exercise (what could be more authentic than the PM of the UK after all), only to be discouraged by the extravagant metaphors and Olde English that spills forth from his lips.

His recent quotes have left me amused, confused, and cringing more than a little. In a recent attempt to boost morale, he announced the “distant bugle of the scientific cavalry coming over the brow of the hill” (in reference to the COVID vaccine), whilst warning that even though ‘tis the season to be jolly, “it’s also the season to be jolly careful”.

*eye roll*

And I still have no idea what “social lubricant” means…

Complicated and stuffy, it confirmed for me that there is a lot to be said for simplicity. And while I don’t dismiss the fun you can have with the English language; I believe there is a right time to play with it (and delivering a crucial message during a global pandemic is not it).

But simple often means direct and there is a fine line between the two. The “directness” terrified me when I first landed on Spanish soil (Oh Boris, what have you done to me?), but I appreciate now that it can be more than a little helpful for understanding culture, and language.

But like most experiences, I learn the hard way.

During one online Spanish lesson, just as I was getting into the grammar groove, the buzzer in our apartment sounded. Conscious of being on camera, I stood up to reach for the receiver, composed myself and answered with my finest “Hola”.

It was just the postie needing access. I let him in and returned to my lesson, relieved not to have been put on the spot with additional conversation, only to find the teacher laughing.

Worried that I must have a ‘hole in my leggings’ scenario, I nervously asked what was funny.

“You answered the door and said ‘hola’” he said, smiling.

I was perplexed. What could possibly be wrong with that?!

“Why, what would you have said”? I asked, defensive but curious.

He advised that if I wanted to sound in the least bit like a local then answering with “Sí?” or “Dime” would be better alternatives (the same goes for phone calls too apparently).

No, no. I explained that in English, to answer the door or phone to someone and say “Yes?” or “Tell me” would be considered cold and unwelcoming, not to mention well, rude.

He looked amused, and smug.

“So, you say ‘hello’, and the other person says ‘hello’, and then you say ‘hello’ again and you just keeping saying ‘hello’ to each other until someone leaves?”

Not exactly, although it was a fair observation. I agreed to consider changing my method of meeting and greeting and we moved on. But it got me thinking…

All my life, the rules of good manners have been drilled into me, and this ‘British politeness’ is a characteristic universally renowned. And now here I am, suddenly experiencing a shift.

Here, por favor and gracias are not dished around in any given interaction the way I would use ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ (note: the waiter does not expect to be begged and thanked four times for bringing you a Fanta limón) and saying “sorry” is saved for things you really are sorry for.

These are hard habits to break. But if I am ever to sound like a local, I must embrace the idea that the things I would generally consider rude or impolite, are perfectly, perfectly normal.

Because it is not rudeness, it is merely cultural and linguistic differences. It is variety. And it is practicality. Why use three words when you could use one? Why say “hello” when you answer the phone when you could cut straight to the chase? (I remain unconvinced about this one).  

Of course, the Spanish language has its own formalities. There are two types of “you” for example. The formal, respectful ‘Usted’ is reserved for addressing an elderly person, or your boss. And then there is ‘Tú’ which is for your friends, family and everyone else. This distinction of respect is something you really don’t want to get wrong…

There are new rules to learn, and old ones to set aside.

So, I took the advice of my Spanish teacher on board, determined that the next time anyone rang my buzzer and caught me unawares, I would demand (albeit politely) for the purpose of the caller.

But no matter how many times I try, a cheery “Hola” is always on the tip of my tongue.

Old habits die hard. Sorry.

Adaptation:

Main squeeze

Main squeeze

by Lemoní ♥ 4 Comments

Sharing your dreams with someone is one thing, but sharing the same dream is another.

The dream of moving abroad, to start a new life, embrace a new culture and experience new things was a shared dream, resting in the pipeline until the time was right for it to be lived.

Equally, sharing your goals with someone is one thing, but sharing the same goal is something else.

And as fate would have it, R and I now share a very important goal.

We both have to learn Spanish. Juntos.

It’s funny, because when we first started learning languages – we were learning different ones.

But with our shared dream unleashed, and a move to Spain on the horizon, our goals aligned. As much as it is oh so important, and healthy, to have your own interests and hobbies, there is something very special about having a shared vision, a shared goal. A shared experience.

Fluency was the shared goal. But it is over-rated, apparently. What does it even mean to be “fluent”?

I have lost count of how many times I have been asked “Are you fluent yet”? It sounds simple, but it is far from.

We will never be native, so will we ever be “fluent”? Maybe. But it will take years, and years (and years and years…)  

So, in our bid to strive for the next best thing, we find ourselves on an interesting, fun and at times, challenging journey. One where we celebrate our successes (like making a phone call sin-stutter) and feel on top of the world putting our new life skills into practice.

Other times, we despair, wondering if we will ever get to where we want to be and achieve that anticipated “fluency” status.

We each have our strengths, and our weaknesses. We both have off days, and we probably always will. After a long week of work, having to study, or speak in a different language requires effort. But it is so rewarding to see the progress, in ourselves and in each other.

We have gone from sharing a few words to full sentences, and even brief conversations. We speak “comfortably” in the house, able to communicate basic emotions and answer the all-important “How was your day”?

We help to fill in each other’s gaps, but there is un problema with this. The risk of two non-natives learning together is… How do we know if either of us are right?!

As I said, there are challenges, and frustrations, and changing dynamics. When did this unintentional teacher/student relationship develop?! But for every annoying correction (otherwise known as constructive criticism), and forced hour of “let’s only talk in Spanish” there are plenty of laughs, with “Why did I say that?!” or “Guess what happened today” kick-starting most conversations.

We’ve both made some pretty hilarious mistakes after all, and there is something precious about debriefing over them together, or with friends in the same situation.

We want to see each other thrive (after all, it’s much easier to have someone to fall back on when you trip over your words or have a complete blank in public)!

Just like a relationship, it is important is to keep things fresh and interesting. So, whichever way we chose to learn on any given day, we try to make it fun, whether that involves practising in the park with a picnic in the sun (incomplete without some ice-cold cervezas), learning songs, or binge-watching Spanish shows on Netflix…

Last week however, we took it a step further. Invited along by some friends, we spent a Saturday evening side-stepping and swaying our way through a beginners Bachata dance class, following instructions solo en español.

I sold the idea to R as a spontaneous new experience with an underlying language learning opportunity. I was quietly confident after my previous dance “ordeal” and suddenly, standing vulnerable in front of a huge mirror and a whole class of people seemed a lot less daunting than it did last year. I knew I would at least understand something this time round!

And it was fantástico! Not only did we understand most of the class, but we learnt a few moves too. While some refer to this Dominican dance as “sensual salsa”, R described it as “the Gay Gordons ‘with hips’” (those of you familiar with traditional Scottish country dancing will appreciate that soft rhythmic hip movements are not a key feature of this Ceilidh favourite)!  

With my main squeeze by my side, we will practise the basic steps of language learning, each taking turns to lead.

We will trip over our feet and make mistakes more toe-curling than hip-swirling, but hopefully we will advance to more complex moves one day, towards the grande finale of “fluency…”

Learning together, learning always.

Sharing your dreams with someone is one thing, but sharing the same dream is another.

Progress:

Tolerance:

In need of refreshment

In need of refreshment

by Lemoní ♥ 2 Comments

It was only a matter of time before I had to talk about the weather! With a fierce heatwave sweeping across Europe, the news reports show Spain turning a deep, aggressive shade of red on the map. And that can only mean one thing – it’s July!

At least this year, I sort of know what to expect. I must have acclimatised a bit, or maybe I just have a better understanding of how to survive summer in Spain!

Last year was an adjustment. Arriving in June, it was already scorching hot. I was missing the beach, and craving sight of any body of water since even the río had almost dried up. Public fountains tormented me. I would hover close, praying that the trusty Madrid breeze would blow the right direction so the spray would provide a quick (and subtle) cool-down. One day I lingered just a little too long, and the light spray I was expecting ended up as a heavy (and very public) drenching!

I remember the first time I felt 40°C here. The temperature had stayed consistently around 38°C for weeks, but I waited for it to rise just a few grados more- it felt exciting, and a little dangerous! The journey home from my dance class coincided with the hottest hour of the day and I was out there exposed, darting between shady spots until I made it on to the air-conditioned metro.

Once home, I slipped off my sandals and stepped onto the cool tiles, which provided instant relief! Then I poured myself a glass of something lemony and plunged my swollen flamenco feet into a basin of icy water. This became my effective body-cooling ritual which I would race home for after a hot day out (and by race, I mean shuffle very slowly).

I had only felt temperatures like this once before, very briefly in Abu Dhabi, where the streets were deserted during the days, everyone living a sensibly nocturnal life.

But this was my new normal, and I started taking stock of my sunscreen supplies and drinking agua like my life depended on it…

Because life doesn’t stop here. People still go about their daily business – working, exercising, eating out. Even moving house and home renovations are surprisingly popular in the summer months!

The public transport still runs, the roads don’t melt and even during last year’s heatwave, when other European countries allowed the public to cool off in fountains (much to my envy), Spain continued as normal, unphased by the sizzling temperatures which brought other countries to a standstill.

The only time Madrid takes a break is between the hours of around 2 and 5pm, when some of (but not all) life pauses. This is just one of the ways the Madrileños beat the heat, or at least deal with it every year. As well as the trusty siesta, other hacks include drinking cañas (because anything bigger than this tiny beer would become warm and unappealing, very quickly), flocking to public swimming pools on weekends, and taking that all-important evening stroll at an hour that we would usually be in bed!

I was reassured to learn that the Spanish like to talk about the weather just as much as the British. Except, instead of comparing inches of rainfall, the focus is very much on the temperature. Weather-related expressions are one of the first things you learn in Spanish, and it is always a safe topic of conversation, or so I thought…

People will fan themselves continuously while saying things like “Hace mucho calor” (It’s hot or literally: it makes much heat). But trying to express that you are feeling the heat is where things get risky. We must use “Tengo calor” (I have heat) because saying “Estoy caliente” (I am hot) means something entirely different altogether…

So, unless you intend on announcing your “state of arousal” to an unfortunate someone (while already sweaty and breathless) then be careful! It’s an easy mistake to make after all and one that can at least be blamed on the brain-frazzling heat!

I have been guilty of glorifying the weather here, sharing the forecast with friends and family back home. The novelty of sunshine in February or a hot day in October is hard not to show off, but June-August can be tough – particularly this year with the compulsory use of masks.

Even now, with the AC blasting and three additional fans circulating warm air around my apartment, it can be impossible to stay cool. I am currently averaging two cold showers and four outfit changes per day (not to mention perspiring in peculiar places)! And the heat can be draining; it is responsible for zapping my appetite, drying out my contact lenses and causing my phone to overheat and crash daily (much like myself, it requires respite in a cool, dark room from time to time).

But I soon realised that I wouldn’t have it any other way, because the fresh food, the good mood, the glowing tan and the healthy dose of Vitamin D are only some of the benefits of life in the sun. Plus, the (once-boring) topic of the weather allows me to practise speaking some simple Español, even if I do confuse calor and caliente (or hot and horny) from time to time…

And when the sun sets behind the mountains, there is life on the streets as people return, revived from their afternoon rest. Chatter and reguetón beats are carried by the warm breeze which is ever-present in this city, and I know that the incomparable vibe of a Spanish summer is the only refreshment I need!

Language success:

Experience:

A slice of advice

A slice of advice

by Lemoní ♥ 2 Comments

Having been in Madrid for a year now and feeling pretty established (at times), I have been looking back and reflecting on all the things I have learnt from living abroad. And also to a time when this whole experience was just a big unknown, when I didn’t know what to expect…

I remember friends, family, and colleagues parting some really valuable advice onto us before we left, and looking back, I wonder whether I took it on board amidst the emotional goodbyes. It was an overwhelming time, with tears and hugs and when-will-we-see-you-agains, and only now do I realise the value of the wise words they passed on.

There were messages of encouragement; everyone eagerly telling us to enjoy the good life – the sunshine, the siestas and the sangria. This, we have certainly done!

But there were a few nuggets that really stuck with me…

  • “You have no idea how much your horizons will broaden” – I vividly remember this conversation just days before leaving. Someone told me that by moving abroad, I would be exposed to a world I didn’t even know existed; culturally, socially, career-wise. And whilst the latter is still up for debate, I still replay this conversation and realise just how true it is. “I’m only going to Spain” I thought at the time but when I think about the past year and all the things I have seen, heard, felt, achieved, and learnt (including Spanish), I am struck by how I would have had none of these experiences if we hadn’t taken the plunge. Every single day has been an adventure, and these words will stick with me forever.
  • “Never turn down an invitation” – was an invaluable piece of advice which has turned into a motto that I repeat to myself anytime I am lucky enough to receive one. It made me view every occasion as an opportunity because, you never know just who you might meet. Not only is it confidence-boosting to say “yes” and turn up, but you will always come away richer for it (sometimes with a phone number, a new friend, a job offer, a language exchange or at the very least, a good night out!)
  • “Without bread, it’s not worth it” – I now appreciate that this could only have been a warning to prepare me for the bread bloat I was sure to experience. I dismissed it at the time, confident of my carb control! But I was wrong, I have never eaten so much pan! It appears on the table with every meal, with every tapa and tempts you from every bakery window in the barrio. And while I have no desire for the disappointing and weirdly sweet shelf loaf, (which is certainly no Warburtons), the freshly baked baton is not only a temptation, but part of daily life. Plus, it feels continental, mopping up all manner of salsas with your bread from the basket, which is starting to harden a little in the heat – only adding to the delight of relaxed Mediterranean dining.
  • “El tiempo es oro” – Time is Gold. In other words, time is the most precious thing we will ever have, so spend it well. Spaniards generally have some strong priorities, which include la familia, spending time outdoors, taking gentle strolls in the evening, good food, good wine, and sunshine. The slower pace of life has made me realise that it isn’t necessary to “fill” my time but to appreciate more the simple things in life. (Funnily enough, these wise words came from the same individual who passed on the previous gem, and I do wonder how much of his precious time is spent eating pan)!
  • “Assume life will be different” – that way you will be pleasantly surprised when you find things that remind you of home. I remember the first time I heard a Scottish accent in a crowd and felt instantly connected to the stranger, or when I spied Dairy Milk chocolate in a swanky supermercado and stocked up on the over-priced bars! These overwhelming feelings of comfort and “home” don’t come along often but when they do, I savour the moments. And then there are the times when I wake up with enough mosquito bites to ‘join the dots’ or am confronted by a cucaracha, and I am starkly reminded that some things are just…different!
  • “Love life” – waking up to the sunshine, exploring new places and experiencing new things every day makes it very hard not to!
  • “If you love it, don’t leave” – simple.

It was all great advice. But there was one crucial thing missing and that was of course, any advice for learning Spanish! There was plenty of assurance; “It will come”, “Don’t worry about it” and “Give it time”, people said. (Some even tried to trick me into believing that English would be widely spoken! HA!)

It’s exactly the advice I would have passed on to others in my situation too. In reflection, the reassurance that everything would be ok was probably more valuable than hints and tips for memorising verbs, which I would likely forget when distracted by paella and piscinas.

Anyway, it turns out any advice on the subject of learning a language is generally quite consistent, and simple. Any internet search or textbook preaches the same golden rules: Practise lots, don’t be afraid to make mistakes and SPEAK! (Note: this doesn’t make it “easy”, just less daunting)!

Moving abroad to start a new life is an experience that is guaranteed to be confidence-building in the long-term. Being forced out of your comfort zone can only be a good thing!

And while I am yet to benefit from a glittering career opportunity (or meet someone who is going to offer me one), we have made friends, we spend our time doing things we enjoy, and we do love life!

The phrase “you learn something new every day” has never been more accurate, and whenever I am exposed to fresh challenges, I can hear the voices of the well-wishers in the back of my mind, and I thank them silently for their words of wisdom.

But there was one slice of advice I was given, and it is perhaps the greatest of all – write it down! I don’t want to forget anything so it is important to capture the memories. And when I will look back again, to relive the moments, or to pass on peculiar proverbs, I will be so glad I followed this advice.

It also gives me the opportunity to share with you my experiences and I hope that one day, you might spend some of your own precious tiempo de oro enjoying this country.

I guarantee there will be bread. Because without bread…

It’s not worth it!

Hindsight:

Appreciation: