I did it! I finally moved! It felt like nearly a lifetime of waiting considering the relentless noise I had to deal with the past few months at my old place, that, coupled with how akin to WC Fields I have become with regard to children (and boy are they particularly loud here) made the summer hellacious in the pursuit of quiet. You never realize how much you need it until you don’t have it.

The new place is quiet, with plenty of light and views and no buildings facing either of my TWO giant balconies! So while my double set of sliding glass doors are on display to the world, I have more privacy than ever.

In fact, if the closest building, which is taller than mine, ever entices one of it’s residents out onto their tiny balconies, and if I see they might be looking this way (they are far enough it is hard to tell) I catch myself thinking “Hey, mind your own business, this is my space and I’ll paint these chairs in my bathrobe and towel-turbaned head while singing Journey if I want to!” and I go inside in a huff. Quite the turnaround from could-not-care-less snacking naked in my kitchen while the gay couple pretended not to notice from before.

So when I am not working I am doing all of the many things one must do when moving into a (rare) brand new building here. I had to buy an entire household of furniture, which, as fun as that sounds, is quite an ordeal. If I never see the inside of another IKEA, it will be too soon.

Ikea here is like Walmart in the US, full of out of control shrieking children and throngs of people shuffling around, albeit through much narrower isles and no regard for personal space – you just shove through grandma and her clan strolling 7 wide through the 4 foot wide aisle, go ahead! They don’t care. They don’t say sorry when they elbow you in the ribs getting by as you are pinned against the LJUSÅS YSBY lamps and NYVOLL dressing tables and you don’t have to either.

I also have been busy setting  up gas, electricity and water, getting the water heater lit, let’s not forget decorating the flat which I have done very tastefully (including a very zen fountain to go with the new silence. My clothes are still in piles on the floor, but I have a little fountain, damnit.) and finally, the challenging task of establishing a connection to that thing they call the internet, which, by the way, I still do not have – I am tethered to my iphone to connect. This is because Internet companies here are fucking ridiculously incompetent. I’ve been waiting a month for the installation people just to call to set up an installation, which of course doesn’t mean they will get it right or even do it the first time. So on that front – yay Spain.

But back to the good stuff. The neighborhood has welcomed me with lots of love, manifesting in graffiti of the same theme, which I share with you here.

Old factory wall that remains in the empty lot beside my building, soon to become a park. The wall is staying.

North side of the building next to me, will be one entrance to the park.

Same artist, a few block away

Letter slot on a storefront after hours.

This tag was up so high I couldn't get a good photo of it. It's much cooler in person.

Dear Spain:

When I left you the first time, you knew I would be back, didn’t you.  As much as I complained about your glacial pace of getting things done and how you wouldn’t let me own a vehicle, you knew what Italy had in store for me better than I did. I know I threatened to leave you for Italy before, so when I came running back to you, you could have made things really difficult just to punish me. In fact I was expecting it. I thought I would have to live in a rat hole (and there are oh so many to choose from) until finding a decent place to live after three months of searching. And sure, my wallet got stolen again pretty much the second I returned.

But you came through for me in the end, didn’t you? You gave me a room with my own bathroom and some pretty decent flatmates, the very hour I arrived back into your arms. Oh, and this view right outside my room’s french doors:

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… thanks, Spain, for welcoming me back.  I promise I won’t ever take you for granted again. Just keep these sunsets coming.

Love,

Me