One year and a few days ago I packed all my belongings, jumped on the bus at 5 a.m. and reached Liverpool airport an hour and a half later. The yellow submarine was there, and so were some of the most typical tings that I associate with England; Starbucks (how many hours did I not spend in there), Boots (I’m scared to think how much time I spent on smelling things) and Superdrug.
A certain Irish airline took me to the Spanish east coast and here I am, one year later.
Although it has been a tough year in many ways, I have also been very, very lucky. In a time of increasing unemployment, I managed to find a job, despite the lack of any real Spanish skills. Without going to classes, those skills have actually improved quite a lot during the past year, although I still mess up once in a while. I have also figured out what I want to do with my life, which isn’t too bad either (only if it means that I’ll have to learn French, no offence to anyone, but the relationship that I have with the French language is slightly ambiguous).
And well, the main reason why I can say that moving to Spain was worth all the trouble is that every morning I get to wake up next to the only person in the whole world that I want to wake up with (touch wood!).
We celebrated this anniversary in the most typical fashion: there’s one place where we like to go to celebrate things. It’s nothing fancy or cool or romantic. It’s a typical Spanish bar with typical Spanish tapas where the waiter kisses you on the cheek and where the flans are to die for. Maybe we like it so much because it’s like us: uncomplicated and quite content with the little things in life. After all, who wants gourmet when you can have potatoes covered in Roquefort and goat cheese with blueberry jam? Not to mention those flans… And they even have coke! (as in coca cola… the other day we found a bar that only had beer and schweppes).
Summa summarum: the first year has been good, the second one will be even better!
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