NOTE: I originally wrote this in October 2022 on my terrace in Spain.
Tonight the full Hunter’s Moon rose above the foothills out here in Valdemorillo a few hours ago and I’ve been sitting on the terrace sipping scotch and Coke listening to a playlist, Songs About the Moon, on Spotify. I talked to my husband. I’m going home in less than two days.
It’s my last night in the villa. Bags are mostly packed; I will wrap it up tomorrow. Then me and the kitty go to a hotel and wait til morning to fly out.
There is an end to this. I am grateful. If only we had lived in the city. If only we hadn’t been homeless for four months and lived in hotels and endured a hurricane back home that made all storage space unavailable and if only we’d had better support on the ground from knowledgeable people and started, been able to start, our language lessons at least six months before we arrived, if only we’d had some time to really BE here without any other obligations to get a taste of the culture and way of life, if only, if only covid hadn’t happened and my workdays weren’t 10-11 hours long regularly and if only we’d had friends here or some sort of balance to life. If only we’d been told we had to get Spanish driver’s licenses earlier than 4 months after we moved here. If only I’d been told I could get a year’s worth of my anti-anxiety meds before we left instead of being forced to stop cold turkey because they aren’t available here. If only we’d had help finding English-speaking doctors. If only we hadn’t been basically abandoned in a foreign country where we don’t know the laws and are fresh American meat to every scam artist landlord, lawyer and official we encountered because we don’t know any better.
There is A LOT of prejudice against Americans in Europe, Spain included, and it seems people out here are so desperate due to the poor economy, they’re screwing over anyone they can to make an extra Euro. We were sitting ducks. I’m leaving more in debt than when we arrived. This is the opposite of the original plan.