Just over a year ago, I wrote about how I was pretty sure every French person on the street knew that I wasn’t thinking in French. Which sounds a little bit crazy, but if you’re living in a country where you don’t speak the language, it’s really freaking intimidating to open your mouth and have words that don’t don’t quite fit around your tongue and teeth try and sort themselves out into a coherent sentence. It took me months in France before I was comfortable with my French, before it didn’t feel like a too small sweater and make me uncomfortable for long periods of time. Which, to be honest, is why I’m kind of really alrightl that I don’t speak any Spanish. Continue reading
Because that’s what it is now. It’s your city. Maybe only for six months, a year (though you never know what will happen), but, for that time, it is completely and utterly your city. You live and shop and eat and drink and are entertained there. So get to know it. Start out with all the cheesy touristy things (even if you don’t like looking like a tourist). Do the bus rides or walking tours or boat tours or whatever else is available. Any major city will have a tourism office where you can ask questions and pick up maps, brochures and activity listings. Figure out what interests you and hit it up. Learn a little history. Visit the big museums and take cheesy touristy pictures and spam your Facebook or Instagram feed with them.
During our second week in Deba, my HM, the kids and I headed to San Sebastian for the day. These first two photos made me think of my trip to Nice this spring, though with sand instead of rocks on the beach. Things I’d forgotten about going places with kids: their moods determine oh so much. They weren’t in the mood to do a lot of walking/being outside (which was a bit of a bummer since it was absolutely gorgeous outside and I was more than ready to do some sightseeing), so we headed to the aquarium for a couple of hours (which is also a marine museum and we all know I feel about those). I did, however, get the chance to hunt down a Basque flag for my travel backpack. I’ll take what I can get. And, yes, I’ll be planning a trip back for a longer look. At the city, not the fish.
I know that this seems pretty obvious and one of the things you’re positive you’ll keep up, but the best laid plans humans and furry rodents usually meet up with that road paved by good intentions. It’s not because you don’t care or they don’t care or you’ve moved on or any of those things. The biggest factor, really, is life and all those small, kind of pesky things that you didn’t really count on or told yourself wouldn’t be a factor. And then BAM! they were. Continue reading