OK, so you guys know that I finally came home to the United States after living almost two years in Spain. I was a language auxiliary, (language assistant) helping to teach English to children three and a half days a week. It was a sweet deal working only 16 hours a week, a $1000 monthly stipend, and free private health care minus medication costs. It sounds great, doesn’t it? but nothing is as it seems, and there was plenty of bad to go with the good when I first got to Spain dealing with the bureaucracy, a shitty apartment with no AC in the hell of summer (including the school) it damn near drove me to became an alcoholic. And at $2 for a glass of wine that was the easy part.

The main reason I’m back my age. And lack of money. And well I need my health managed by someone other than useless doctors who don’t examine you, take vitals on you or talk to you more than 4 minutes. You can read my previous blogs on the so-called “great health care in Spain,” which is an urban myth made up by people with no health problems and believe cheap is better. All I’m saying is if you go there make sure your will is in force, they might just kill you. Just saying.

Anyway, my age:  because I turned 60 the program ended for me, although I was hoping that since  Spain was so disorganized that they wouldn’t notice and I could renew for another year despite the issues/aggravations and intermittent hell I went through trying to acclimate myself.

But no, they noticed, incredibly. So I got my “renewal denied” letter which meant as of May 31s my VISA expired and I had 90 days to get out. Your too old, we don’t need you, get the F*** out. No more siestas, fiestas, and cheap well-made wine for you missy. Adios..  Damn agists. Ok fine. so, a decision had to be made and I never did win the Spanish lottery so retiring early was not gonna happen.

Unfortunately, I have a short fuse for emotional control as my friends know. Every time I had a health problem or fought with the bureaucracy crap or couldn’t get anything done cause I couldn’t speak the language and everything was closed during “siesta/lunch time” Ide get annoyed and let my trigger finger go walking. That meant “book” and suddenly I was on an airplane. Ide be off to see someplace new to soothe my chronically irritated soul over all the stuff you go through living in another country that drives ex-pats to drink, or leave.  I admit it. But instead of leaving and giving up, Ide “leave temporarily” to see other countries more than ever. Not a bad thing really as traveling does make me happy, like Miss Piggy when Kermit finally gives her a kiss happy. Unfortunately traveling added to credit card debt as well. Woe is me.

The  thing about Spain is there were so many times when I was so irritated while I lived there over so many things; the health care being a  shitshow, the bureaucracy that will choke a horse, having no AC or heat in the apartments that also often smell like a sewer because they don’t put simple P- traps in their sinks and drains just damn near took me over the top at times. It’s true. And that’s not even half of it, to be honest. But I’m stubborn. I wasn’t gonna give up no matter how many times I wanted to.

Now before you think I hate Spain, wait.

I don’t hate it. I grew to really like it and after the first year, I grew to like living like the Spanish. Relax, don’t worry, don’t expect efficiency or good customer service, instead just chill out.  Take 2-hour lunches then rest a while. Go to the beach. Socialize, walk everywhere. Hop to Europe for $100. Eat good homemade simple food, and buy those $5 bottles of wine. Go to a winery, and pick fresh pomegranates or lemons from the miles of citrus groves.  Have coffee with friends, frequently. Hug everyone you see every time you see them with a double kiss on the cheeks. Walk arm in arm and be happy.  Kiss in public. Stay out all night and watch fireworks and parades. Sleep late and wake early from fireworks in the streets. Watch kids play outside till 3 am.  Don’t have expectations of becoming rich, just play the lottery, eat and drink cheap instead.

These are the things that rubbed off on me. The controlled scheduled work-a-holic American in me did learn to slow down. Some. Not 100% mind you, but some.

Now I’m here.

In the US

Ive been home maybe 3 weeks and it’s not been easy. I want to leave. Every minute of every day Ive been here, my soul aches to go.

Arriving with no car, no belongings except my clothes, and no permanent place to live means im starting over. Again. At 60.  I really want to let my trigger finger loose, like really bad.

Having to buy a car which has been a debacle, spending $100 on barely enough groceries to last 3 days, spending $12 glasses of wine in any restaurant, need I say more? Whos F**ing idea was this?

Thanks to a friend I have a place to stay for a few months. After looking for a car and wanting to stab myself in the neck over dealing with lying salespeople who would sell their mothers soul to sell you a car they secretly know is damaged, and breaks hours after you buy it, all I know is if I had to also find an apartment on top of that Ide be checked into rehab.

You see unlike some older language assistance when I left I sold and gave away everything but the clothes on my back.  That meant I don’t own a fork, a glass, sheets for a bed or even a can opener.

If I had to rent an empty apartment and fully furnish it with everything one takes for granted having Ide really go broke. The thought of buying literally everything you ever need to live somewhere would cost thousands. And goodwill isn’t even cheap anymore either. Thanks for that.

Welcome to the USA and starting over from scratch.

Thanks to the cost of alcohol, I may now give it up. But ring dings are cheap.

So what now? I drag myself to work and re-learn how to work 9 hours a day, and wait for the weekend like everyone else.   Drink coffee to get over the 2 pm “siesta time” slump my body still thinks Im on and doesn’t understand there is no more 2-hour lunch followed by a nap. Or knowing that if I take a trip it will cost thousands as I’m now a 9-hour flight over the ocean to go to Europe.  Look for BBC on the TV to remind you of the international world. 

Bitch and moan bitch and moan. Yep, that’s me. I knew Ide hate it, and I do. But I’m here. I don’t have enough money to just leave again either. Time to pour myself a drink.

How long will it take for me to re-acclimate again? I shake my head. “It is what it is” my brother says. Suck it up buttercup, you weren’t born into a rich family and your ex-spouse took it all. Welcome to life.

Welcome home they said.

Keep your trigger finger in its holster.

Reverse culture shock is real

Take antidepressants before moving home

Drink often, or maybe not.

Somewhere in the USA

Somebody shoot the Nissen Salesguy.