It's the little victories in life, right?  Like when you're in a new country where you don't speak the language... at a shop trying to buy your son a needle to take out his splinter... and it turns out that you've either just asked the store clerk for a witch, or told him to go f*&k himself? (Insert crazily embarrassed emoji here!) 

Is it terrible that I can't stop laughing about this?  

Here were my exact words tonight:  "Perdon señor, me gustaria una bruja."  
The youngish male clerk with dark hair stopped and stared at me, standing there smiling at him with my two earnest small children.  
"Como?" he asked.

"Una bruja para mi hijo. El tiene una..." (here I paused to take out my Spanish/English dictionary and look up the word splinter... "una astilla." 

Unsurprisingly, he continued to look at me in a perplexed manner.  "Una bruja?"
Something was clearly amiss.  I quickly looked up "needle" in the dictionary.  
"Ah!!!  Lo siento... quiero una aguja, no una bruja!"  
The poor guy's face cleared up and he looked greatly relieved as he shook his head firmly.  
"No, Señora, no tenemos una aguja."  

Completely embarrassing but true translation:  
"Excuse me sir, I would like a witch."  (Or, according to the Spanish urban dictionary... "I would like you to go f*&k yourself.")
"What?"
"A witch for my son.  He has a... splinter."
"A witch?"
"Oh, I'm sorry... I want a needle, not a witch!"
"No, madam... we do not have a needle here."
(In his head he may have added, "...you crazy witch!"  LOL.)

Well... like mother, like daughter.  I was not the only one making a bashful apology today.  Little Angel managed to knock a piece of marble shelving in our AirBNB off a shelf and onto the beautiful wood floor, which obliged neither of us by immediately making a dent.  Sigh.  We handled it the only way we know how... with a heartfelt crayon apology to the apartment owner and an offer to pay for the damage.  This is what it's really like to travel with younger kids.  There is a lot of laughter and patience involved.  

But, I digress.  Here are some photos to catch up on our first few days!

Yesterday we walked through the Mercat Galvany.  You know you're not in Kansas (or California) anymore when the crustaceans look like they're doing a dance number on ice while they wait for you to pop them into your paella.

​We are also getting used to the rhythm of life here.  We waited for 20 minutes behind a woman buying slices of meat at the butcher, just to buy a bottle of water because it was 90 degrees outside and we were so thirsty.  Soccer Dude and Little Angel were incredibly patient and it was truly interesting to listen to the woman and the butcher chatting away in Spanish, in such a relaxed fashion, as though neither of them had a care in the world or anything to do besides just enjoy talking about the thickness of a slice of meat together.  I found myself using the opportunity as a chance to meditate (very sweatily) and recognize that my American "Let's get this done super fast" attitude is going to have to chill out here in Spain.  It is a "vida tranquila" and there is beauty in the slow pace.

Today we took the metro out to visit Agora Sant Cugat, the school where all three of our cherubs will attend this year.  Soccer Dude and Little Angel were pretty psyched to see it again!  On the way back we saw this cute little old Spanish couple leaving the Metro station and I couldn't help but take their (blurry) photo.  I fell plumb in love with his awesome suspenders!  It's such a great explanation for the vast difference between Spanish and American culture today.  Where in America would you see these sweet folks, other than perhaps a nursing home?  I love the respect for age and experience in Spain.  Dignity exists here.

We're enjoying our time in the older part of Sarria, and I think we will look for our permanent apartment here.  It's an easy commute to the kids' school outside of the city, and yet it still has that Barcelona city magic... here are a few views taken from inside of our favorite restaurant in Sarria, Panino Silvestre... which deserves a blog post of its own!  These snapshots give a feeling for the street:

This afternoon we took our first real siesta.  Por que no?  We had nowhere in particular to be, and it was so pleasant in the middle of a scorching hot day to feel justified in coming back to our lovely cool apartment to rest... knowing that everyone else in town, even the construction workers rebuilding the sidewalk outside of our windows, was doing the same.  Little Angel got a good nap and was a bit more perky tonight than she's been in several days.  A/C is a real gift on a day like today.  

At home if I'd awakened from an afternoon nap, I'd probably feel groggy and guilty for having "wasted" the day.  Here, when we awakened at 5pm from our siesta, we knew the day was young and stores were just opening again for their final shift until closing between 8 and 9pm.  

The sky was still bright with daylight.  Soccer Dude, Little Angel and I took a leisurely stroll down to the Jardins de la Villa Amèlia... lovely parallel gardens just a ten minute walk away in a different corner of Sarria.  We wandered through a somewhat hidden "passage" that led us into the center of a lovely group of apartments (photo top-L) and then cruised by a gorgeous civic center (photo top-M) that looked more like a palace.  

The gardens of Villa Amélia tonight were full of families, small children, puppies and elderly folk strolling or sitting in wheelchairs.  The atmosphere felt felt extremely safe. We saw no litter, smelled no foul scents, witnessed no animal waste, not even any homeless gents catching a snooze.  Just a lot of regular moms, dads and grandparents hanging out together while teaching their kiddos how to ride bikes; and encouraging them to have courage... to go a little higher on the swings.  

I can't explain any of it yet... what are the deeper realities and inequities in Spanish or Catalan society???  Of course they exist, and in time we will understand the dynamics around us better.  Still, we are truly happy... and there is a lot to learn!

These are the faces of two small humans who had just traveled about 6,000 miles and not slept in almost two days.  I felt proud and impressed that they were still standing... and that Soccer Dude still managed to share a touch of his classic charisma.

Yesterday we flew Lufthansa for the first time ever, from LAX to Frankfurt and then on to Barcelona.  I was incredibly satisfied with the service we received on our flights.  The Lufthansa stewards, who appeared to be all German, were warm and encouraging, and extremely fluent in English. (I think they knew the language better than I do, ha!)  They checked in on us frequently, engaged us in warm conversation, and were both courteous and caring.  We also were moved by airline staff to the front of all boarding lines because I was traveling with children aged 10 and younger... no small kindness when you are boarding a plane with close to 500 other passengers.  This in contrast to British Airways, that only allows passengers with children aged 5 and younger to board early.  Bravo, Lufthansa!  You've won some big fans.

Once again, the Airbus 380 did not disappoint.  That plane model is like a tank, it crushes turbulence.  This was much appreciated, given that we did surf on bumpy air essentially all the way from California to Canada. 

We flew Economy class and were able to take three very large suitcases (checked) and these three small ones.  For our carry-ons, we opted for two stackables and a tiny rolling suitcase, so that we could pull them all just like this (photo above).  Soccer Dude and I took turns all day, pulling the smaller bags.  It was a blessing and relief to check the massive ones all the way through to Barcelona.  

​Little Angel has good intentions but can't usually be bothered for more than a few minutes to carry luggage before she drops everything and says, "I'm tired."  Her brothers are like little machines though - they are always asking to carry/do/help more.

The kids were in good spirits, although Soccer Dude felt incredibly sad to be leaving his best friend, Mini-Muller.  He has had the hardest time of our three kids in leaving San Diego as he is truly devoted to his close friends, the competitive soccer team where he typically shines at midfield or defense, and his innovative school. 

It's hard to imagine, at age 9, that a year is not really that long.  As his mom though, I feel confident that someday he will feel really proud and glad that we took this family sabbatical.

It was partly cloudy and 72 degrees when we landed in Frankfurt in the late morning.  What a fantastic airport - so different than the intense chaos that is Heathrow.  In Frankfurt, customs was very efficiently organized with almost no lines and although they checked our bags even more carefully than we've seen in either LAX or Heathrow, the process felt smooth and relaxed.  

"You have time," the security agent assured us as we repacked all of our baggage after it was scanned. "There is no rush."

Coming back to Europe really felt like coming home.  The Frankfurt airport was spotlessly clean, and the "quick food shoppes" feature gourmet sandwiches, salads and soups.  Nary a Starbucks in sight, thank goodness.  We got lunch to go at Meyer's, where Little Angel and I ordered salmon and lentil salads and Soccer Dude had a rather elegant vegetarian pasta salad.  That might sound fancy, but it wasn't.  The delicious food is pre-made and waiting in a refrigerated section... it's just higher quality than what we might find at LAX.

"Here are some complimentary house-baked bread and toffees," smiled the cashier, a professional gentleman in his 30s or 40s wearing a wedding ring and dressed nicely.  He handed them to the kids, who just lit up, despite how tired they were.

We then flew on to Barcelona, another very smooth and uneventful flight with a fantastic German stewardess who told us in perfect English that she had done a year abroad during high school in Santa Rosa, California, and still loves to fly to San Francisco through her work with Lufthansa.

Barcelona greeted us warmly, literally, at 30 degrees Celsius (86 F) with bright, hot sunshine.  We were lucky to find a great taxi driver who somehow managed to pile all of our six bags into the front and trunk of his smaller car, and then took the three of us very smoothly to Sarria.  The journey took about 20 minutes from the airport.

The hardest part of our entire trip - getting all 6 bags including the huge ones, from the airport to the taxi and then up to our apartment, worked out well.  It was actually simple, far less of a headache than I'd imagined.

Our AirBNB could not be more perfect.  It is a small flat, 2 bedrooms and 3 beds.  It also features a little kitchen, a very nice bathroom... and most importantly, A/C!  The auntie of the owner arrived to greet us within minutes of arrival and (bells ringing, Allelujahs) the building has an elevator.  This made bringing our huge luggage up 4 flights of stairs very easy.  Phew!

"We're home!" I announced with relief as we arrived.  

Barcelona really does feel like a second home.  This is the sixth or seventh time I've now spent time in Barcelona in my life. As a family we've lived more than 6 weeks here over the last two years, and we know the town really well.  Even though we've spent the bulk of our time living in Gracia, it felt good to know our way around this new neighborhood of Sarria as we went grocery shopping. 

We are in a city where we have roots.  They are small roots, but growing quickly.  For example, we have a school for our children and health insurance.  We know several great doctors in town.  We are so blessed by a small handful of excellent friends, and we know where to go for just about anything we might need.  We know the movie theaters, the shopping malls, the English-language bookstores.  I even know where to find a nice alternative "health food" type market.  We know where to shop, and how to avoid tourist attractions.  

​In sum, this is a city that holds part of our hearts already.  

Have you ever taken a 7.5 hour drive for a 5 minute appointment and looked THIS happy as a result?  These are real, genuine smiles!  On Wednesday we piled into the Nissan Pathfinder at 7am and drove from San Diego to the Spanish Consulate in Los Angeles, arriving at 10:30 to collect our official residence visas in person.  Their hours are from 8am to 12pm, so even though we hit a lot of traffic it was okay.

All family members had to be present to pick up their visas.  Even the silly ones arguing in the back of the car!

The 70 mile, 3.5 hour drive wasn't bad though.  We listened to an audio recording of "The Book Thief" on our way up.  It was read aloud by a male actor using thick accents.  

"I can't hear what he's saying back here!" said The Scientist.  "The speakers are muffled."
"Mommy, I don't really understand what is happening in this story!" sighed Little Angel.
"I'm kinda bored..." said Soccer Dude.  "Do we have any snacks?"

This was a vast improvement over the usual, "He's making a mean face at me!" type of commentary we experience during long family car trips.  Señor Aventura and I actually enjoyed listening to the storyline, as sad as it was, about a foster child in Germany at the start of World War II.  At some point at least one of the children fell asleep. We had a peaceful ride.

Picking up the residence visas could not have been easier.  We walked into the pristinely clean office, waited about 3 minutes for an open window.  It was the same clerk who'd helped us to apply.  He called our names individually and handed out our passports one at a time.  The residence visa turns out to be a special sticker placed into our US passports by the consulate, which allows us to stay as residents of Spain legally for three months to start.  

"Is there anything else?" we asked.
"Nope," the clerk said.  "You're all done."
"Wow! We're official!" we beamed.
"Congratulations."

Of course, once we arrive in Barcelona, there will be more steps.  We'll go to the local police station where they will validate our documents and visas and extend the time frame to one year... and then issue us our actual N.I.E. (national identity) cards.  We will be able to renew the visa while we are living in Spain, if we so choose.  

Now we are back at home in San Diego and s&*t is getting real.  Our furniture is disappearing - to storage, to Goodwill, to AmVets.  I gave my mother half of the ingredients in our pantry.   

Señor Aventura sold our Nissan Pathfinder today - that same car we'd just taken to L.A.  He brought it into Carmax and walked out an hour later so much happier.  He's wanted to get rid of that car for a long, long time!  "It was leaking," he said.  "Good riddance!"

I've easily packed 50 boxes in the past few days, and there are easily another 50 to go. At moments it feels overwhelming... but then I remember why we are doing all of this and the overwhelm turns to excitement - a fizzy, giddy feeling in my gut.

The best part about emptying out our house and our life to move to Spain is that we've gotten rid of so much stuff.  Purged it all.  Little things, big things - so many things we'd somehow accumulated throughout the years.  It's like one crazy massive Spring cleaning.

We'll be living so simply. As long as I've got my kids, Señor Aventura, my purse and my passport... that's really all I need in the world.  Everything else will take care of itself. They've got IKEA in Spain.

Ten more days!  Ten more days to a new life!!!  
Honestly?  Making our lifelong dream come true feels pretty badass.