Because most of my readers (if I even have any left) are my close friends and family, pretty much everyone already knows without my having posted about it that we’re moving back to Washington where I am going to be stationed on the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. It’s going to be a great career opportunity and I’m looking forward to getting started, but it’s a bit overwhelming to think about the pace my life is about to hit. Going from Spain, land of mañana, to an aircraft carrier, land of…well…not land at all but rather nuclear-powered floating highly armed sovereign U.S. territory warship…need I say more?
As many people know, our stay here in Spain has not been quite what we expected it to be. I’ve always said, and still maintain, that I would have loved Spain if we actually got to live in Spain. Instead we lived on base, where all of our neighbors - fantastic as most of them have been - are American. The base is all things American - American TV, American radio, American grocery stores, cars, coffee, language, culture. And while I love my culture and am prouder than ever to be an American (living in another country can do that to a person), we came here with the hopes and expectations of being immersed in a new culture and we hoped to make friends and learn to speak Spanish well and appreciate everything the culture had to offer.
But I digress. We’re leaving in 3 days, 13 hours and 11 minutes.
The time snuck up on us a few weeks ago and I decided, rather firmly, that I was not leaving Spain without traveling more. So 2 weekends ago a friend of mine and I left the kids at home (with B) and flew up to Barcelona where I soaked up the abundant sun, walked La Rambla and the Gothic Quarter, visited Gaudi’s architectural masterpieces, and, naturally, got my Visa check card number stolen. Fortunately I put a stop to the payments to Renfe (the train), RyanAir and Vueling, lastminute.com travel agency, and various restaurants and hotels.
The crappy part about having your Visa check card number stolen when you’re moving is that you have nowhere reliable to send a replacement card to. And when you’ve shipped out your entire wallet with your debit card and remaining credit card (who does that?!), that puts you in a bit of a pickle financially. Good thing I have a responsible spouse who does not do such silly things as ship a wallet out in his household goods.
Upon my return from Barcelona, I worked for 2 days and then B & I had our (10 years late) honeymoon - I took 4 days of leave and we drove our questionably reliable “Rota beater” to Sevilla and hopped a flight to Paris where we spent 3 magical days hitting all the major sights - Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Arc du Triomphe, the Champs Elysses, the Musee Orsay, the Louvre, Versaille, Moulin Rouge, and even coffee at Amelie’s employer, Les Deux Moulins. All finished with 300 steps up to the top of the Sacre Couer basilica to take in the spectacular view of Paris. In between was stuffed with pain au chocolat, meringues, nutella-and-almond-filled crepes, cafe au lait, comte cheese, fabulous sandwiches, rich dinners, and copious amounts of red wine.
We got off the plane, drove back to the base where we picked up our kids, cleaned the house, slept for a few hours and then had a whirlwind of activity - we packed out our remaining household goods and put a “for sale” sign on our car. On our way back from the office where I made the sign, the car battery died (naturally) and we had to buy a new battery, and while B was in the store buying the battery someone saw the sign and wanted the car. In a half an hour we went from stressing about what to do with a car when we were leaving in 3 days to having sold the car and being ready to go.
All that’s left now is to pack and do some last-minute cleaning ’round the house. And then it’s off to Everett, back to the cool and rainy weather that we actually really love. I think I’ve had enough of this sun now. I’m ready to be back in America.
