Tag: movingabroad

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:

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:

Driving a wedge

Driving a wedge

by Lemoní ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

It turns out there is quite a lot involved in setting up life in a new country. I considered all the life admin we all do over the years: finding places to live, setting up bank accounts, registering with doctors and dentists, sorting out tax affairs, renewing phone contracts, haggling with utility providers – the list goes on. And for some crazy reason we had decided to do it all over again, in a short time frame, and in another language.

One of the “joys” of Brexit was all the ADDITIONAL things we would have to do to ensure the new life we had chosen in Europe would go as smoothly as we hoped it would, committed to the pursuit of the “Mediterranean dream”.

We made sure to follow what little guidance there was and do what we could sooner rather than later in what is sure to become a panic time-frame (although we defaulted to “blame it on Brexit” whenever appointments were scarce or difficult to book)!

Early one morning we made our way across Madrid to make the nerve-wracking exchange of our driving licenses, which we had read about on various expat groups on Facebook.

Finding our planned metro route disrupted, we jumped on the replacement bus service and arrived at the Driving License Centre with minutes to spare, only to find our 9am appointment was delayed. Of course it was. I sensed it was going to be one of those days…

When we were eventually summoned, it was by a lady whose desk was busy with a distracting array of religious figurines and framed cat pictures. Both having an ‘off’ day it seemed, we struggled through the appointment. There were whole sentences lost in translation and we asked her to repeat most of what she told us, more than once. But we dutifully signed every page of every form (a quirky rule here in Spain) and then, we handed over our precious UK driving licenses in exchange for a temporary piece of paper and a promise that we could expect our new licenses by post.

It was all a bit stressful. And it wasn’t over yet!

What I gathered from the lady’s limited hand gestures (pointing to her eyes and ears and then out the window), was that we had to undergo a medical test, obtain a certificate, and then return with it. Confused and caffeine-deprived, we allowed ourselves to be led away by what thankfully turned out to be a trustworthy tout, to one of several odd little medical offices nearby.

This one looked just like a house from the outside and when we entered, we were split up and I watched as R (who was my language comfort blanket in the early days) was led away by a woman with a clipboard and I, by a man in a lab coat. So far, so weird.

First, I worked my way very slowly through a questionnaire (todo en Español). This time there were no hand gestures, only raised eyebrows and disappointment, and a few comments about my LACK OF SPANISH. Not a high point.

While R was in the other room playing an 80’s video game (to test his reactions, I think), I was then subjected to an eye test. Completely unprepared, I cursed myself for not cleaning my smudged glasses as the grouch in the lab-coat pointed his stick aggressively at the smallest line of letters on the board. Not only could I not see them, but I had to guess them, and guess them in Spanish! If I got one wrong, he would point again and sigh dramatically. Panicking about the consequences of failing, I just started shouting out all the letters of the alphabet I could remember, even throwing in ‘ñ’ for extra brownie points. The thought of having to re-sit a driving test here was enough to terrify me in any language!

I think we were glad to see the back of each other when he eventually released me, and I went, sweating, into the other room to try my luck with the video game. With a joystick in each hand (which is not how I remember driving a car), I had to keep the little red dot within the lines, the machine beeping aggressively if (when) I strayed. R did his best to reassure me – I’m not sure he was finding it all that traumatic!

But by some miracle, we passed and settled up €70 for the ordeal before returning with our certificates to the next part of our lengthy appointment.

After 3 hours, we were done. Breathing a BIG sigh of relief, we headed straight for the nearest café where we ordered strong coffee and croissants, sat in the sun, and debriefed over our floundering language efforts. The more we shared, the funnier the whole morning became.

I’m sure we will suffer further bouts of Brexit bitterness as we go through the next steps, but we must carefully ensure not to drive a wedge between the countries we call home.

And what I first thought was a “disaster” of a morning, I came to realise was just another valuable experience to learn from.

I learnt never to attend an appointment before my morning coffee, for navigating the infamous Spanish bureaucracy can be lengthy and requires fuel. I learnt that not everyone will be sympathetic to our language learning efforts but why should they be? Being made to feel uncomfortable only spurred me on more.

It also made me realise that I really should think about getting behind the wheel here as soon as possible. And that I’m sure a quick revision of the alphabet wouldn’t do any harm!

Language success:

Experience:

Lemon sole

Lemon sole

by Lemoní ♥ 2 Comments

(The day I befriended a Cobbler)

It was early January and I was ready to challenge myself again. I needed to find a way to overcome the “7-month silence” that I was experiencing after Navidad. Already-fluent friends reassured me that this was a perfectly normal stage of language learning. It’s the stage where you understand more and more (you might even get a buzz from listening in to someone’s conversation in a café). But when asked a simple question, you clam up and appear to have forgotten everything you have ever learnt! (You certainly would if asked: “Why are you listening to my conversation?” This didn’t happen to me by the way, I’m too subtle).

I was told that the only way to overcome this dreaded confidence-killing-silent-stage was to…HABLAR!

In a bid to follow this advice and start the year as I meant to go on, I pleaded with R to think up a challenge for me!

(Side note: I had already exhausted my own list of “challenge yourself in Spanish” errands. They were becoming pointless! I once convinced myself the dress I bought for a wedding needed altered and spent ages researching tailors nearby. I had my script rehearsed and was about to embark on my mission when it occurred to me that, there was nothing actually wrong with the dress. I must have dreamt up its imperfections just because I was in need of a new challenge! Either that or the August heat was driving me delirious)!

Anyway, it wasn’t long before he came up with something unforeseen…

The very next day as he was leaving for work, the sole fell off one of his shiny new work shoes! How convenient, I thought, this was my chance! I must go and find a cobbler! (A first for me, in any country).

Not fully satisfied at work, I thought now might be a good time to switch vocation and re-train to become a cobbler myself. I was joking of course, but you would be surprised at the things you consider when seeking (preferably non-verbal) work in a foreign land…!

So, off I went in search of the cobbler who would mend the shoe (and maybe even appoint me as their apprentice).

We live in a neighbourhood where there is a local everything; a Frutería, Florestería, Perfumería…even an Acting Academy and a Magician’s studio! You name it, we’ve got it. So, I knew it wouldn’t be hard to come by a Cobblería* (*translation not accurate).

Roaming the streets nearby, it wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for! A shoehorn in a dusty window display was the giveaway and I followed some steps into a dark hovel, below street level.

There, perched upon a stool, was an exceptionally old man mending the shoe of another unfortunate soleless customer. The shop was over 100 years old and I was sure the cobbler couldn’t have been much younger. I liked him at once.

I wasn’t really sure what I was asking for, so in limited Español (and with a smile), I presented the shoe with the flapping sole and he went about inspecting it.

He admired it, in a way that only a Cobbler would, and then went on to show me an array of his handiwork from the back of the cave which I, in turn, admired dutifully. We had a pleasant, broken conversation and he asked where I was from. He looked surprised when I told him. He “thought Spanish” – I was thrilled, but sceptical…

I had used all the common phrases I knew, and my limits had been reached, but seemingly unphased that I couldn’t follow, he just continued talking…and talking. From his mouth came an eruption of words and I frantically tried to pick out anything I understood, desperate to converse more with him!

Yet despite my difficulties, I felt oddly at ease. From this patient old man, there was no expectation or judgement of my proficiency, and there was no hurry either. As he rambled in a dialect that I hoped I would one day understand – I realised that instead of perceiving language as a “barrier”, we should see it as an open door to experiences, to cultures and to people that we would never have accessed otherwise.

Eventually, when the time came to bid “Adiós”, I paid 10€ for the pleasure and headed back into the sunshine.

He did not make me his apprentice, but I was already excited to return for the shoe!

Language success:

Experience: