Category: Valencia Life

It started with a plant. Plant needed a pot. Pot needed a shelf. Shelf needed a drill. Drill deposit needed a Spanish bank account. 10:03. Branch smells like printer heat.“¿Cita?” the greeter asks.“No. But I have intent.”Ticket B132. Posters: couples with keys, a man on a scooter, a piggy bank smiling like it knows a […]

After the flamenco heel incident I thought I’d go low-risk for a few days. No classes, no dinners, no situations where my bad Spanish could end in an ambulance call. Just groceries. A list with four things on it — pan, leche, queso, tomate — because that’s what I could spell without checking. The walk […]

It was either join a flamenco class or cry into a bowl of microwaved arroz tres delicias again. I figured movement would help. Or at least distract from the ongoing saga of “Aerielle and the Accidental Business Registration.” (Still active, by the way. I keep getting letters. One of them was damp. Unrelated? Unclear.) I […]

I agreed to go out with him because he had good teeth and a slow way of speaking Spanish that made me feel like maybe I wasn’t losing the plot completely. Plus, he made paella for dogs as a side business. Not a metaphor. Actual paella. For dogs. That should have been the warning sign. […]

It started, as most of my disasters do, with good intentions and a sharp outfit. I woke up one Tuesday with a hangover from optimism and the pressing need to pay my electricity bill. This, I had been told, could not be done online because—how did the nice lady at Iberdrola put it?—“the system is […]

It started, like many bad decisions in Spain, with enthusiasm and cheap wine. Marisol — my neighbor, landlord, and occasional life coach — had insisted I join her and her friends for “proper tapas.” The real deal. Not the tourist stuff.“Tonight,” she said, “you eat like a local.” In hindsight, I should have asked which […]

I first met Miles at a charity brunch in Jávea. The word charity is doing a lot of heavy lifting here — it was really just fifty British people drinking too much cava at 11am while vaguely pretending to care about orphaned donkeys somewhere inland. You know the vibe. Miles stood out immediately. Mostly because […]

You’d think after the German tourists incident, I’d have learned to stop saying yes to things I’m wildly unqualified for. You’d think. But Spain does this thing to your brain. The sun, the wine, the general absence of consequence — it softens your grip on reality. And so, standing outside a café in Moraira, holding […]

Day one, I downloaded five apps. Duolingo. Babbel. A suspicious one with a parrot in sunglasses. I was ready. I was motivated. I was an ambitious, language-hungry goddess with a dream and a whiteboard. Day two, I forgot the word for “hello.” It all started because I was tired of ordering coffee like a nervous […]

Making friends as an adult is already a nightmare. Making friends in a foreign country, where your grasp of the language is questionable at best and your social skills have been worn down by years of selective introversion? Impossible.  But I was determined.  Spain is a country built on socializing. People have entire friend groups […]

There are two types of people who do yoga: the ones who glow with inner peace, bend like human pretzels, and sip green tea after class while discussing mindfulness, and then there’s me—a person whose body was not designed to fold in half and whose brain only understands chaos.  But I live in Spain now. […]

This was not supposed to happen.  I left my apartment with good intentions. Just a quick drink, maybe two, like a responsible person who has a healthy relationship with alcohol and decision-making. I had planned for an early night. A calm, quiet, sophisticated evening.  Cut to 4 AM, and I am standing on a beach […]

Some people move to Spain and immediately integrate into the culture. They learn to roll their Rs, drink vermouth at lunchtime, and develop an opinion on where to get the best jamón ibérico.  I am not one of those people.  I thought I was. I thought I could be. I thought, “You know what? I […]

I don’t nap. I never have. I come from a culture that associates mid-day sleeping with either toddlers or people on the brink of a breakdown. But Spain? Spain says sleep whenever you want, wherever you want, with zero shame, because life is a long dinner and you need to pace yourself.  And honestly? That […]

At this point, I feel like I need to file some kind of official report. Maybe go to the police, explain that I am being specifically targeted by a feathered psychopath with a personal vendetta.  Because this was not my first run-in with The Pigeon.  The first time, I wrote it off as bad luck. […]

Somewhere around mid-June I decided I was being boring and should start saying yes to things. All things. Didn’t think it through, just did it. I thought I’d get a few coffee invitations, maybe a trip to the beach. I didn’t picture being in a stranger’s kitchen at 3 a.m. trying to explain in bad […]

I got off the plane at Valencia Airport with the idea that something life-changing might hit me. A cinematic moment. Instead, the warm air came at me like an open oven door. The suitcase made it twelve minutes before the handle gave up, and I found myself dragging it over cobblestones wondering why I hadn’t […]