Settling in

This article deserves a warning before I launch into it. Well, it's not a warning as much as an assurance. I assure you that I am not going to always bore you with comparing and contrasting. OK, we all know it's different here in Spain than it is in the US. OK, it's different, BUT I may do just a little bit of comparing and contrasting below, but I promise this will be the end of it, trust me.

Here it goes: Life back in the US fit into a routine. We would get up at about 5:45 in the morning, my husband Rob would walk the dog and I would go jogging. I'd then maybe garden or clean up. We'd jump in the car and leave for work around 7:30. We brought our lunch and hardly ate out. One day a week we had yoga and if not we would be home no later than 6:30 in the evening. I'd make a big dinner; we'd go for a long walk. On the weekends we'd take the dog for a run on the beach. I'd spend time volunteering for the Big and Little Sister Program and Rob would work on the house. A lot of our lives centered around the house… fixing it up, decorating it, landscaping it, maintaining it, getting ready for dinner parties, entertaining at home. There was a lot of cooking at home and hanging out with the neighbors. Sunday night consisted going to the grocery store to get ready for another week of the same.

Life was easy and life was routine. Stores seemed to always be opened, you could run a million errands in one day (the was critical when remodeling a house, I couldn't even imagine doing that here.) Parking was ample, the streets were wide and communication was never a problem. We were in charge of our life. It was one continual checklist and it was easy and comfortable. If we didn't make a change, days would have turned into years and we would have woken up one day and realized that we had been basically doing the same thing for 40 years. Sure, we may have moved into a bigger house and the dog would have died and there probably would have been kids. But the same basic structure would have been in tact. Get up, do some things around the house, go to work, come home and cook and do some more things around the house.

We're now living in Spain and I look back and I was 31 going on 50. And the worst part was that I had really stopped thinking. I just did a routine.

Now things are scrambled around a bit and I still can't decide if life is easier or harder. I know, parking is definitely harder, but is that how to define the meaning of life? It's almost as if activities that were "no-brainers" have become huge mental exercises and other issues have just gone away, but nothing yet seems routine, I haven't checked my brain in yet.

Communication seems to be the biggest barrier. Is my Spanish that bad?! Sometimes I get really frustrated because I can't say exactly what I want to say, I can only say what I know how to say and I have to think about it before saying it. The good news is that I don't burst out and say something stupid and then regret saying it. I have time to formulate my thoughts. It's a little like trying to eat a juicy Filet Mignon steak with chopsticks. The rich and delicious cut of meat is steaming hot in front of me but I can't get it to my mouth in a respectable manner to enjoy it. I seem to be working with the wrong tools.

This is how I feel every time I have to pick up the phone and call someone to get something done. Like calling Telefonica and asking them why we were being charged an additional fee. Did you know that we had voicemail on our phone for the first 9 months we were here but I just couldn't figure out how to use it and I couldn't figure out whom to call to teach me how to use it?

Other issues seem to be big events that in the past I would have never given a second thought. The grocery store is a big one. The first day I went I couldn't figure out where anything was and I was too afraid to ask for items. Two embarrassing moments particularly stand out from my first time to the grocery store in Barcelona. The first was figuring out how to unhook the carts from one another. They were chained at the handlebars. Being the type of person that always uses brute force first and then brains second, I first tugged as hard as possible to separate them. I then felt around for a release button. Nothing seemed to separate them and I felt as if I was making a scene. As I was fooling around with one cart I nonchalantly looked over and watched someone else put a coin in the slot and pull off a cart, oh, that's how it's done!

The second one was the whole song and the dance you have to go through to get your fruits and vegetables. The plastic gloves just plain scared me so I avoided them and was hoping nobody noticed me coughing on my hands and then feeling every single piece of fruit. I got the fruits and vegetables I wanted and didn't notice the long line of people in the fruit section all waiting for something. I should have heeded attention because little did I know that I would end up back there. I finished my shopping and then went to check out. It was one of those incredibly busy Saturday mornings at the grocery store when everyone seems to be buying food as if there was a big storm coming that was going to knock out he power and water and you had to hurry and stock up. I waited a good long time in line and finally was in the front to check out. As all my food was piled high on the conveyer belt and the line behind me was 10 thick, I was told by the lady that I needed to have my fruits and vegetables priced out back in the fruit section. It was disheartening and at first I pretended I didn't understand what she said because I was secretly hoping that I heard it wrong or I was hoping that she'd say, "Oh, just kidding, here, let me help you out by just weighing it here." But no, it was turning into a scene and I eventually had to pack everything back up in the cart and go back to weigh my fruit. You can imagine, I didn't stand in her line again.

So the little things are harder here and I haven't gotten into a routine yet. But some things are easier. On Friday afternoons we can just close the doors to our rented apartment and head to Southern France for the weekend. That's because we have no pets or, in fact, no living greenery in our apartment.

Also, I haven't cleaned a toilet or vacuumed in months, the cleaning lady does that, boy, and do I feel decadent! I also haven't written a check since as long as I can remember because of all this advanced electronic banking.

But I think this is all the newness of moving abroad and someday I'll crave a routine and want to grocery shop on Sundays. I may even feel this burning desire to scrub a toilet, you know, make myself feel productive. In the meantime I'd better just damn well enjoy it!