Feeling the love

I'm not going to lie...I've had a lot of hard days since I've been here.  And honestly, I think it has more to do with having two toddlers 20 months apart then it does with living in a foreign country.  Some folks are just born jugglers, and can roll with chaos.  I'm calm, most of the time, but require a certain level of organization and structure to function (VIR-GO)--neither of which are currently present here in Spain.  I had life down to a science at home in the US.  I ordered 75% of our stuff online--clothes, toiletries, diapers, dog food-- you name it, I had it delivered to our door step.  Anything I could do to minimize shopping with my children, I did.  I had sippie cups filled in the fridge the night before ready to go when the kids woke up.  I had frozen waffles and Elmo on TV (yes, my kids watched TV, a necessary evil when you have two so darn close together).  I had an abundance of family members ready and willing to help,  watching the kids while I grocery shopped for the ENTIRE WEEK, and had a schedule so tight nothing could break it.  Naps followed lunch, eaten at noon, and bedtime was 6pm sharp.  If Mia woke in the middle of the night, I had a microwave to heat a bottle of milk, and within minutes she was back down.  The children had sound machines, and we could practically throw a keg party downstairs after they were in bed--they would never hear a thing.  Oh, and the dog.  Walking her involved opening our front door.  Half the time we would forget she was out there, and find her, 30 minutes later, emerging from the marsh covered in mud.  That was the hardest part of the day.  Figuring out how to clean the dog.

Now strip all of that away.  The kids sleep a stone's throw from where we sleep, and if we even step foot outside our door before they are up, they hear it and wake up.  We are in a city, so even though we live on a pedestrian street, it is still loud and there are people talking, kids playing, trucks unloading fruit, motorcycles racing, and dogs barking.  And we hear it all.  I can hear the people above us flushing their toilet for God's sake.  The sound machines were fried day one due to a faulty plug converter, so there went those.  We have no TV, so the second the kids wake up, it is all me and Chris to keep them happy and entertained while we make breakfast, which no longer involves popping waffles in the toaster.  Cheerios exist in a far away store not worth my time or effort to go to (a story for another time).  Then there is the issue of shopping.  I get bread from the grocery store, cheese from the cheese vendor, turkey meat from the fresh market, fruits and veggies one block away, and fish from a market down the road, toiletries across the walk, and baguettes from the natural market.  You get the picture.  No joke, I hit maybe 8 stores a day--yes, they are all very close to my house, but it is still a lot.  Much to Molly's benefit, she requires actual walks now, either to the dog park or the big park by the beach, so there is no half assing there either.  It took me a solid 3 weeks to find good quality dog food (I'm a dog food snob, anything I can do to prolong her life, I'll do) which requires a metro ride and an hour out of our lives to obtain.  The upside is that all of us, Molly included, are a much slimmer version of ourselves after all this work.

I could go on and on, but don't want to sound like I'm whining (even though I am).  Of course, there are parts of living here that are easier too.  The laid back lifestyle, the proximity to outdoor space, the abundance of great fresh food, Chris walking to work, the pharmacies (a blog entry in itself--I'm obsessed).  I could go on and on.  The point is, everything that was mindless at home now requires energy, time, and effort here.  Finding a book.  Getting a haircut.  Going to a doctor.  Ordering meat.  For now, it's just harder.   I know there will be a time when it is easier, and overall life here will again be seamless, but it doesn't change the fact that there is a breaking in period, and we are in the thick of it.  Then, there is this issue of the language barrier.  I won't lie, it totally sucks.  Not because people are rude, or you can't get what you need, just because you want so badly to talk to people and connect with them...and you can't.  You have these moments, all the time, when people on the street smile at you when they see Molly or notice the kids doing something cute, then say something to me...and I have no idea what they are saying.  I always smile and say "si, si"  because I have nothing else to say.  Chris and I laugh about this constantly, he does the same thing at work.  Just praying that saying "yes, yes" will hide the fact that you are totally clueless.  For all I know they could be saying, "get control of your kids, you American idiot" and I'm just smiling away, agreeing.  I tried my hardest to get some kind of Spanish foundation before I came, but planning a move to another continent completely zapped me of any excess energy or time I had to devote to Rosetta Stone.  Or maybe I was just being lazy.  Regardless, I had taken exactly three months of Spanish in 7th grade, and then it was all French from that point forward throughout college.  I.  Knew.  Nothing.  Yet, in four weeks I have to say, I have surprised myself.  I can order turkey.  I can order fish.  I walked into a salon, and asked if they cut children's hair (I'll admit, there was a significant amount of cramming with google translate beforehand, but I got my point across and Evan looks great).  People will tell you that you'll "pick up" a language just by being immersed in it.  I think that is bull.  In order to learn, you need to make a serious effort to learn, and that means classes, lessons, tutors, and practice.  Hence, Spanish class for me begins next week, two nights per week.  But, I will tell you that in three weeks, I understand a hell of a lot more now than I did when I got here.  More and more, I am actually understanding what people are saying to me, and I find that when you RELAX, loosen up, and stop panicking--you hear a lot.  It is hard initially not to freeze up when you know someone is about to ask you something and you won't know what to say back, but lately I've been focusing very hard on just listening.  They won't start hitting you if you don't know what they are saying, and eventually the point will get across, so there is no sense in worrying about it.  Since I've realized this, I've made progress.  I went to get lunch at a local take out place, and asked for grilled calamari...the owner then said "with rice or potatoes?"  and I knew what he said  (P.S., this amazing lunch was 4 euro!!!)  Not a big deal, but progress.  Similarly, the other day I took Evan into the cafe with me to get a coffee, and the owner started talking to him.  After a few minutes he looked at me and asked, "does he understand?" and I knew what he was asking me.  Again, nothing major, but that is progress for me.  I also spend a lot of time listening to the other mother's at the park.  There are times when they approach me and start talking, but again, since the language barrier exists, the conversation doesn't go too far and I'm left alone again.  That is when it makes me sad, and I can't wait to just speak Spanish already.

But this is the amazing part of living here: there is ALWAYS a silver lining.  And not just a silver lining, but a brilliant, stunning, stop you in your tracks lining, that brings you to tears.  To put it in simple terms, I feel the love here.  I feel taken care of and looked after in a way I didn't expect.  This comes from both the Catalan people, and the ex-pat community, and it is amazing. 

Today at the park...It was 6pm, late for us to be out walking, but I took advantage of the beautiful weather and sun and kept going.  We passed by a playground Evan particularly loves, so I tied the dog up, and let the kids run around.  Now, Evan had not napped today, so I knew he was tired and generally that can mean trouble, but he was in great spirits having a ball so I just went with it.  At one point there was a spinning ride/toy he wanted to use, but some older kids were using it going too fast for him to join in, so he had to wait his turn...on a normal morning that wouldn't have phased him, but at 6pm with no nap, that means sadness-->anger-->push Mia-->run in opposite direction.  I could see this nice late walk deteriorating fast, so I attempted to wrangle the troops to head home, except it was too late.  Evan was pissed, and no longer willing to walk nicely beside me, and Mia was feeding off the vibe, and pitching a fit refusing to get back in the stroller OR carrier.  I looked around to see how many people were staring at this ridiculous scene of me stepping on the leash to keep Molly close, holding Evan in the stroller with one hand, and trying to strap flailing, screaming Mia in the carrier with the other.  Yup, defiantly stares.  The cynical Bostonian in me gets angry, assuming people are judging me for being an incompetent mother.  Or maybe it's just me, and I blame it on Boston.  But no, there was no judgement.  The same two women who were staring, then came over to me, slipped the shoulder strap of the carrier on my shoulder, fastened the back snap, and put her hand on Mia's head smiling at her.  "Que pasa?"  she said, in the sweetest voice, as Mia looked back at her, silent with her tear stained face in disbelief like, "will you be my mother?"  The woman then put her hand on MY back, smiled at me, and walked with us to the street.  Everyone was silent.  Beautiful, amazing silver lining. 

These moments  happen almost every day.  When you think the world is out to get you, and nothing can go right, you are reminded of the beauty and kindness of the people here, and your whole perspective changes.  The elderly man on the metro who INSISTED that I take his seat while I had Mia in the carrier...I sat down, and as soon as the seat next to me opened up, he sat down in it with his friend next to him.  Periodically, while he was talking to his friend, he would turn to Mia, smiling and cooing at her, reaching out to touch her hand when she reached for him (she was obsessed with this guy).  It melts your heart to see a 70 year old man, out for a ride on the train with his friend, so taken with a 17 month old little girl.  Now, I can imagine this all sounds weird to folks at home (I can hear my sister Mer now, screaming at me to be careful).  Americans, or at least this American, generally don't tolerate other people touching our kids, or getting in our personal space, but here is feels totally natural.  It could have something to do with the fact that there is practically zero violent crime in Barcelona, or that I live in a very family oriented neighborhood, but it feels like everyone is just looking out for you here.  It feels nice, especially when you are away from your actual family.

And it doesn't stop with the locals.  When we found out we were moving to Barcelona, one of the folks at Vistaprint's HR office gave me the name and number of another wife of a Vistaprint employee, moved here early in 2010. I remember emailing her for the first time, nervous that she would be annoyed to hear the same questions I'm sure she has heard many times over.  Imagine my shock when I received a long, warm, welcoming email in response...full of advice and support. She didn't even know me, but literally held my hand throughout the moving process, took us out to dinner with her husband when we were here for our house hunting trip, and listened to me vent my first week here over dinner.  The ex-pat community is intense...you know you need each other, you know there is limited time to know eachother, so there is no beating around the bush.  Yesterday was the perfect example.  I go to a certain park in Poblenou quite frequently.  It has a fence to contain my little wanderer, Mia, and is usually filled with young kids under 2 in the mornings.  I like going there because Mia can play with other kids, and I can eavesdrop and try and learn some new Spanish words.  So yesterday, as I went to save Mia from walking in front of the swings, I caught the eye of another mother, who then said, "Hi".  WHOA.  English hits me like a sledgehammer these days, because I never hear it.  She was the first English speaking mother I'd met in my neighborhood, so this was huge.  Now, being the usual sketchball I am, I said, "Hi" back, but didn't ask where she was from, and just followed Mia as she toddled away.  But this woman would have none of that.  She followed me and asked me if I spoke English, to which she followed with, "what, are you from New York or something?"  I liked her immediately.  Within four minutes, she had my name, phone number, email, and was already adding me to her email list for her playgroup.  It was like speed dating for ex-pats.  She had been here for four years, and once I told her I just got here, she was in full on "get under my wing" mode.  I loved it.  She even called that night to apologize for being on the phone while we said goodbye, and emailed the name of someone she met last week from Canada for us to connect.  And it doesn't stop there.  There has been on outpouring of folks, mostly through Vistaprint, learning I'm new in town and offering to meet up.  Now, I'm not one to make new friends easily. I don't consider myself mean or rude, I'm just on the shyer side and I'm not great at approaching people.  To come here, has been a whole new world.  I think that alone can change you for the better.