Gijon sign in our neighborhood

A friend of ours recently messaged me to ask a few questions about our life in Spain. She is considering a similar move, albeit to southern Spain, in the near future. Her questions made me think she didn’t fully trust that I was writing the complete truth about our new life in my blogs.

She asked about  the behind-the blog-scene. In what ways do we feel like outsiders? What observations have we made about Spain and Spaniards that make us feel uncomfortable?

Her questions were thought provoking, for sure. After some contemplation, I decided to come clean with all of you; to share the real down and dirty of life in Spain. Not the candy coated version I’ve written about all year, but what you get when you pull back the curtain and reveal the Whole Truth.

Our towels are like sand paper. We have not found a way to make our towels soft and fluffy like they used to be when they came out of a clothes dryer. We use an organic detergent and organic softener that goes right into our washing machine and then hang the towels to dry. They are clean and smell good but they are not soft.

Buying a premium brand of towels did not work, either. We now just have more expensive loofah-like bath towels. Does it matter to us? Not really. We laugh about it when we have guests and tell them they will be able to exfoliate while drying, no extra charge.

The challenge of bureaucracy in Spain actually ranks a bit higher than our scratchy towels. One example was when Rocky’s Spanish debit card was compromised. A charge appeared from Colombia, South America while we were having dinner out one night. In the States, we could open our bank app and immediately shut down access to the card. Rocky was able to do that here as well. When it came time to recoup the money that was charged though, it was a bit more challenging.

First he contacted the bank to let them know.  Account services said he would need to file a police report before they could process a refund to our account. When we contacted the police department, they said we needed a report from our bank regarding the suspected fraud before we could file a police report. The classic run around.

Finally stting down in front of a banker, we asked why it was so difficult to prove the charge was fraud and get it refunded. After all, the charge came from Colombia within five minutes of our dinner charge in Gijon and was less than 100 euros. We could not be in two places at once and the small amount hardly seemed worth the huge effort.

Our banker who could not have been more lovely, smiled and said, “Well in Spain, if we can take five steps to do something that should only take one, that’s what we do.” At least she acknowledged our struggle and got us laughing. Ultimately, she went to bat for us and we got our refund without a police report.

We are in the process of renewing our visas for the next two years. We had our photos, applications, payment, etc. all ready to go and showed up for our appointment at the police station three weeks ago. After a few minutes of looking over our paperwork, the clerk started shaking her head and saying, “No esta grabado. No esta grabado.” It’s not recorded.

Apparently, you can’t finalize your new visa until the day after your old one expires. So she sent us away and told us to return in three weeks. Unfortunately we could not get a new appointment within three weeks so we waited four. Tomorrow we will return to the police station and hope that we can get our visas finalized. Currently we are using our expired resident cards for ID.

Did we ever have similar frustrations in the U.S.? Of course we did! I can’t tell you how many times I went around in circles with Comcast after waiting forever in line or waiting for them to show up at our house!

Spanish businesses for the most part are far more trusting than in the U.S. When we bought a new bed, it had to be custom ordered and yet the company did not ask for a deposit. In fact we did not have to pay anything until it had been delivered, installed and we had slept on it for three nights. How’s that for service?

What’s even more amazing is that the local policeman are not armed. There is no need for them to carry guns. They are here to help direct traffic, provide assistance, monitor protests and answer questions. Since citizens are not armed either, crime is reduced to the occasional late-night bar fight or graffiti.

We feel safe walking around the city at any time of the day or night. It is not uncommon to see families with small children out at 9 or 10 pm at night because that is the normal time for cena, the dinner/snack, and using baby sitters is not very common.

On Sundays, when most of the stores are closed, couples, families, dogs and people of every age go for long walks. They stop to admire the scenery, sitting on one of the dozens of benches around town; chat with friends and neighbors; or meet in cafes, bars or restaurants. It is a day to rest, laugh and celebrate life.  This is the definition of sanity in my mind.

The Spanish people we have met here have been welcoming, patient with our lack of fluency in Spanish, and always curious why we chose to retire in Gijon. Until we are completely fluent we will always feel like foreigners, I suppose. As Rocky says, “These Spaniards have a different word for everything!”  However, we generally feel like welcome guests to Spain, not unwanted outsiders.

People have started asking me for directions when I’m walking Wilma. Maybe because they assume only residents would be walking a dog, or maybe because we are starting to blend in. Sadly, I’m usually not much help when they do stop me for directions because I don’t have all of the street names memorized yet. At least I understand what they are asking me though!

To wrap up my true confessions, I have to admit that I still panic a little when our Spanish phone rings. Rocky and I usually stare at it and say, “You get it!” “No, you get it!”  Understanding people on the phone is one of the most difficult parts of learning the language.

Spaniards tend to speak very quickly and when I can’t read their lips, watch their hand motions or even know who they are, I find it difficult to keep up or to respond.  Instead of freaking out when I don’t understand someone on the phone now, I ask them to speak more slowly and apologize for my limited language ability. They are usually happy to help! If I figure out that it is a telemarketer though, I use my lack of fluency to my advantage. Immediately, I pretend I can’t understand anything and they hang up the phone quickly.

This is the absolute TRUTH. No sugar coating. Our life in Gijon is wonderful. Better than we expected. We have international friends and Spanish friends, a fantastic Spanish teacher, plenty of downtime, great food, as well as lots of hiking and exciting places to explore. I also have a yoga teacher and yoga community here that I love.

Do we miss our friends and family in the U.S. Absolutely! Do I sometimes dream about stepping out of the shower and wrapping up in a soft, fluffy towel. Yes. The other small annoyances are just that. Small. We made the right choice to live here. At least for now.

Living our best life in Gijon

Notes from the author: 

Curious about our other adventures since arriving in Gijon? Please check some of our older blogs for our first impressions of life in Spain. https://upanddowndog.com/no-sheet/

We love exploring outside of Spain as well! Find out where we are going next: http://www.globalyogatrips.com