Life in Spain is like a marathon. Sure, it's taken me a year and several false starts and, yes, several sprints to come to this conclusion. It's true in every facet of life… OK, other than driving because with driving everyone is sprinting!

Start with the fairly obvious one- going out at night. A good "marcha" can easily end with breakfast at 6:00 in the morning. That means there are a lot of hours of talking, drinking, smoking, eating and dancing to cover in one night. This was a painful lesson to learn and at first I couldn't figure out how they did it. Were they drinking Ginseng tea or lemonade while I was holding a vodka lemon in my hands? I swear my Spanish isn't that bad, I thought I heard them order the same thing I did! Ahhh, but then you watch the professionals at work… I gulp…. they sip… I gulp… they just stand with the drink in their hand… I foolishly gulp again. That can lead to a foolish night and a brutal next day. So, the rules I learned from a marathon night of "marcha" are: 1) don't "pre-party", there's plenty of time for fun; 2) Sip the red wine at dinner and gulp the water; 3) eat your dinner; 4) hold a drink in your hand but don't drink it; 5) alternate with soda and everyone will think it is a whiskey and soda and, finally; 6) dance the night away!

That's the "marcha", but everyday life is also no sprint to the finish line either. Getting most everything done takes more than one attempt to do it. No, really. OK, well, actually one time I got three things done one day after work and I was delighted, I couldn't believe it, but that was just an anomaly. Case in point, I wanted to take an art class. Easy enough, I found the class and went down to register. I figured I would pop down, hand over my credit card and walk out a pupil. Not so fast, I had to register, go to the bank and deposit $18 in their account to hold my space, return and show them a receipt. No, I wasn't a student yet, I still had pupil envy. I then had to wait another two weeks, return, fill out another form, and then officially enroll in the class which meant more lines, another trip to the bank (but this time giving a lot more money) and then back to the school. That's four trips to register.

Now, talk about a marathon, I have a friend who bought an apartment. He bought it about two years ago and at that time all it was blue print plans and a dirt lot. Well over a year later the apartment is built and ready for occupancy. He was given the keys 5 months ago. To date the furnishings in his apartment consist of plates, cups, one chair and a bed. He still sleeps at his parent's house and I don't think he has a date in mind for moving into his new place. How is that possible? I couldn't handle it! I don't know how much is cultural and how much is personality, but I would be doing everything possible to move in, even if it meant living in a sparsely decorated place.

Taking it easy and letting things run its course at a less hurried pace runs contradictory to my personality and the stress from not just accepting this fact has taken years off of my life. Why I can't I just let it go and accept it? Why do I have to be so pushy and impatient? I am the type of person that lives by lists and has an adrenaline rush every time I an check something off the list… picking up the dry cleaning… ahhhh, it's a shot into the arm, just like heroine. And I'm not even from New York. What happens to New Yorkers here in Spain? They must die of cardiac arrest because they are so stressed out with the pace of life. Just look at the difference in the pace a Spaniard and a New Yorker walk. New Yorkers power walk, leap hurdles and dodge crowds while Spaniards stroll.

Friendships are another marathon-in-the-making. And why does it take so long to make friends with Catalans? Well, I have a few theories. Completely contrary to where I grew up in Southern California, it is difficult to initially make friends with them but over time, once you are friends they are dear friends. It's all about quality and not speed. But it's that first hurdle that's the hardest to get over. Once again, why? Well, since many Catalans live in the same city where they were raised this poses many obstacles for newcomers like me. First there's the family. There's a strong culture of eating together on the weekends and attending family functions together. Think about it, if all your cousins, aunts and uncles live in the same city, just think of all the birthday dinners, weddings and other events you're obligated to attend. Mama fully expects you to be there. Then, if they're not with their family they are with their friends and they already have an established network of friends from grade school through college. There's no space in their mobile phone directory to store another phone number. So, basically they don't need you and there is very little room in their busy schedules to squeeze in a foreigner, much less one that doesn't speak Catalan and can barely speak Spanish. If you're present that means everyone has to switch from Catalan to Spanish just because of you. Plus, you just don't get all the inside jokes and cultural euphemisms. So, it was my big mistake to try to sprint and have a full "little black book" full of phone numbers from week one. These things take time.

Speaking of time, your average Spaniard lives a long time and I don't think it is just the red wine and the olive oil that make up the Mediterranean diet. I think they just mellow out, don't demand so much and just accept the fact that they will be back. They aren't plowing over old men strolling in the park or elbowing their way through a crowd of people talking on the street just to go… just to go… I don't know, anywhere… faster! After all, today and tomorrow are both part of a marathon. They help remind you that a day just isn't that long and markers of time should be made up of moments and not hours.

With that said and done, this article is now finished, another thing off my list of "to dos"… ahhh, I can't help it, I still get a high!