Never Retire: From Newcomers to Neighbors After Six Months Living in Valencia, Spain

In my next Never Retire newsletter story, I’ll detail some of the more practical aspects gleaned from our first six months in Spain.

But first—

In February—after just a month living in Spain and only a couple weeks in our apartment—I wrote this Never Retire newsletter story:

Never Retire: We're The New Ones In The Neighborhood

We’re los nuevos en el barrio and I am totally fine with that. In fact, I actually love it.

From the beginning, I hoped that we would be able to find our way and fit into this gentrifying, but still very Spanish and very local neighborhood without any of the tension that—allegedly—exists between long-time residents and newcomers. And—early on—I see this happening. People are friendly, patient and welcoming.

Fast forward four months and I don’t think—Somos los nuevos en el barrio.

For goodness sake, I just changed the water filter on the kitchen sink for the first time. We live here!!

While I am sure there are people who are unhappy that we’re here, we’re not experiencing any of the backlash the media reports—and often exaggerates (especially in the British press, which tends to sensationalize the topic).

We’re not tourists. And we’re not digital nomads just passing through—though I don’t have much of a problem with either group (except the super shitty ones!). I get why some locals might.

Third—while technically still new—we are part of the neighborhood. Living, breathing elements of a place that goes on whether we’re here or not, but makes you feel like a part of something if you make even the slightest attempts at integrating.

• My wife is launching her second act of life career in a ceramics co-working space just a few blocks from our apartment. She is already forging professional and social connections, the latter of which I can be a part of.

• We’re on a joking basis with the guy who owns the shop next door to our building. There’s a bench in front of our place we take turns sitting on.

• We’re regulars at Oli Bar. They know us. We know them. And I genuinely appreciate how that place introduced us to Valencia two and a half years ago and has made us feel at home these last six months. The other day the guy who runs Oli Bar invited us to an event at a record store he was part of.

• We’re regulars at Russafa Market and several other places on the street. People see our faces as familiar—likewise. And it feels good. It’s a key element of neighborhood life.

I have never settled into and felt so at home in a new neighborhood or city so quickly. The fact that I only have a B1 grasp of Spanish at the moment makes it all the more remarkable. Something that—apparently—doesn’t mirror everyone else’s experience.

I recently read a viral piece by a Scottish couple who moved to Barcelona without a plan. They left after a year, citing culture shock and language barriers—despite saying they “threw themselves” into learning Spanish.

I’m not one to judge. Moving abroad is hard. But too often the expectation is that fluency will come from apps and exchange sessions. A server told me early on: “Tú aprendes español en la calle.”

It’s not always fun. It’s uncomfortable. Lonely even. But if you’re not up for that part, you’re not going to make it.

Related to this—my wife speaking fluent Spanish clearly helps. It makes it easier to make changes to your electricity bill. But I try to—(she sometimes makes me)—take the lead and it helps accelerate my growth. I try to use her as a cane, not a crutch.

In fact, in some cases my wife’s Spanish can make me feel isolated or out of place. In group conversations, I’m often lost. I’m basically not part of the flow. And, even if I do understand what’s being said, I’m either not quick enough to jump in or armed with anything meaningful to say.

So cry me a river, as I play the world’s smallest violin. It’s a process.

Anyway—

The only time I ever felt this close to at home in a neighborhood was in San Francisco just after my now 21-year old daughter was born.

I’ll never forget pushing her in the stroller through our neighborhood when a lady I did not know said hello to my daughter, who was not even two at the time. Turns out she knew my kid because our neighbor—who also happened to be the mail carrier on the surrounding streets—used to babysit her and take her all over the neighborhood.

I hope it still does, but I sense fewer instances of that type of thing happening in San Francisco these days. I’m quite certain that’s not the case in Spain, where the types of urban neighborhoods Jane Jacobs wrote about still exist with little fuss and a ton of vibrancy worth writing home—and to you—about.

Bottom line—leaving the United States and, more so, moving to Spain was the right choice and a fantastic way to start the second half of my life.

P.S. After the video—which expands on this article as I ride my bike around Valencia—there’s some Spanish practice if you care to observe.

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🇪🇸 Language Corner

In February—after just a month living in Spain and only a couple weeks in our apartment—I wrote this Never Retire newsletter story.

En febrero—solo después un mes viviendo en España y solamente dos semanas en nuestro apartamento—escribí esta historia de boletín de Never Retire.

While I am sure there are people who are unhappy that we’re here, we’re not experiencing any of the backlash the media reports—and certainly exaggerates (especially the British media).

First, we’re not tourists.

Second, we’re not digital nomads merely passing through.

Mientras estoy seguro que hay personas quienes no son feliz que estamos aquí, no estamos experimentando cualquiera de las reacciones las noticias reportan—y por cierto exaggerates (especialmente las noticias de Brittanicos).

Primero, no somos turistas.

Segundo, no somos digital nomads solo pasando.