A Guiri Guide to Having a Baby in Spain: Second Trimester

The start of my second trimester, at 14 weeks, coincided with another big event in my life: Leaving Seville for a job and a new life in Madrid.

After a relatively uneventful first trimester, I found out that being pregnant in Spain – especially when your second trimester coincides with the hot summer months and the ghost town that is Madrid – was not going to be a cake walk (and what the hell is up with my lack of cravings for cake?!).

the-guiri-guide-to

I can’t say I have complaints about how I felt during my first third of the pregnancy: no morning sickness, no noticeable weight gain, only nominal sleepiness. But the heat, looking for an apartment and drinking in a new city (and drinking cerveza sin and Nesteas in all of the old man bars we could find) meant afternoon naps and sitting down on benches any chance I got. For many weeks,  I avoided eye contact on the Metro, particularly with old people, because I wasn’t big enough to warrant getting the coveted pregnant lady seat just yet.

Miss the English Guide to Pregnancy in Spain? Just click!

People say that the honeymoon period of any pregnancy falls between weeks 14 and 28, or your second third of the cooking. This is the time to exercise, to travel (we went to Asturias via car and I took a jaunt around Northern Europe for work) or to live life as you would have before the achy joints and doctor visits, to savor the moments before midnight feedings and being covered in baby dribble. Considering I’ve had an easy, low-risk pregnancy so far, my biggest complaints lie in the bureaucratic limbo I’ve been in and not to how my body has reacted to being pregnant.

This side eye goes straight to you, Comunidad de Madrid. But we’ll get there later.

Second Trimester tests and check ups

By the time I was making the transition to Madrid, I was almost ready to take the first apartment I saw because there was something more important in play: finding a doctor and signing up for local healthcare. After we signed a contract on a flat in Chamberí, I googled the nearest public health clinic and was delighted to find it within waddling distance of my house.

Centro Médico Espronceda took care of changing my health care from Andalucía to the Cupo Madrileño, promising a card would be mailed to me within the month (and it was!). In the meantime, they gave me a print off and took care of assigning me a médico de cabecera, or a primary care doctor, and nurse.

spanish-doctors-office

While I was allowed to make my own appointments with the primary care doctor and midwife, I was assigned to another medical center around the corner for by obstetrics appointments. This would be the doctor who refers me for tests required for prenatal care. My plan was to get everything out of the way before beginning my job at an estimated 16 weeks of pregnancy, but it didn’t work out that way…

Being new to the health system in Madrid – remember that every autonomous community in Spain has their own regulations regarding public healthcare – I knew that meant a few more visits than normal. Plus, I was looking for a private doctor and had a few Goldilocks moment: too stern, too aloof… until I found one at Clínica La Luz who was just right.

This second trimester has been marked by a slew of doctor’s appointments, to say the least, and mangled test results. Here are the big tests you’ll need to complete if you’ve got a healthy, low-risk pregnancy:

Analisís del segundo trimestre / second trimester blood and urine analysis: Sometime around the middle of your pregnancy, you’ll be instructed to have blood drawn and a urine sample tested for your sugar, protein and iron, plus toxoplasmosis, rubeola and AIDS. Remember to go en ayunas, or without eating or drinking anything but water.

In the public system in Madrid, test results of this nature are typically ready within three working days as opposed to a week in Seville.

Eco de las 20 semanas / The 20-week scan: Arguably the most beautiful moment of the pregnancy, 20 weeks marks the middle of gestation and the most thorough sonogram you’ll have. A doctor will check to be sure Baby has all its fingers and toes, that most of its organs are fully formed and that he or she is not over or underweight.

In fact, the baby is nearly fully formed at this point, so the last half of your pregnancy will be the time he or she gains weight, sprouts hair on the head, begins growing its lungs and continues to develop brain cells. If you’ve been waiting to find out the gender, you should be able to see the sex organs, too – but remember, be very specific if you prefer to wait! Spaniards tend to want to know as soon as possible, so I had to remind doctors that I was waiting until the 20 week scan so as to avoid mistakes.

Pro tip: I was told to consume a bit of sugar before the scan so that the baby would be active. It must have worked: we got the full frontal, so it was easy to determine the baby’s sex!

Curva de azúcar / glucose test: Also called the test O’Sullivan in Spain, you should have your glucose test between 24 and 28 weeks of your pregnancy. This tests for gestational diabetes and can take several hours to complete, depending on your pregnancy and your immediate test results. I decided to do my test in the public system, which I got done at the same time as my second trimester blood and urine exams.

glucose-test-pregnancy-spain

People often complain about the sugary drink, which tasted like a cracked-out version the McDonalds orange pop that we drank after soccer matches as kids. I jokingly told them woman I’d chug it like a beer, college style, but she ordered me to consume it more slowly, in 5-10 minutes, and then sit. Someone will take blood again at one and two hours of consumption to determine your risk for gestational diabetes, which can provoke an overweight baby or preeclampsia. After the second hour, you’re allowed to have breakfast (what sane person deprives a pregnant lady of food?!) and walk around a bit. Thanks to the Novio feeding me plenty of legumes and fish, my margins were extremely low.

Tósferina / whooping cough shot: If your doctor merits it, you’ll have to also have a whooping cough shot around 28 weeks. I was told to put it off until after my third trimester scan to see if it was actually necessary.

Differences Between Madrid and Andalucía’s healthcare systems 
I fully expected to not have any issues with changes from the cupo andaluz to the madrileño. After all, everything works better in Madrid! There’s an appointment system! The Metro runs on time! You can go grocery shopping on Sunday night!
But, much like moving to Spain in the first place, I ran into a lot of bureaucratic brick walls, head first.
When I first met my gynecologist, an older man who stared at me over his glasses while I pulled out all of my paperwork as if he was late for a delivery, I was not impressed. He continually told me that the Andalusian care system was crap, that he had no access to my records, and that he wouldn’t even see me until I’d done another round of blood tests and a sonogram with another doctor. He tossed my cartilla de embarazada back at me and proceeded to pull out a folder and write my vitals on it. I will remember until the day I die that March 29th, 2016 was the first day of my last menstrual cycle – I have probably recited it 100 times by now.

micro-meets-freddie

Apparently you don’t keep your cartilla de embarazada with you, but at your doctor’s. This wouldn’t have been a big deal had it not been during summer vacation time – but I’ll tell you that story later.

Additionally, my doctor doesn’t make my appointments for me. After getting assigned a test or follow-up, you must make the appointment at the medical center: you can do this by phone or internet, or simply by waiting in line at your assigned center. In the stressful first weeks trying to schedule my 20-week scan, I was jockeyed between medical centers and put on a wait list, finally being called by the public system 30 minutes before an appointment – and I was in Seville for the weekend. My being proactive (as in, calling the sistema madrileño de salud out on their inability to adequately staff a public health clinic during the summer months) succeeded to a point, but even being an “urgente” case did nothing to give me any preference.

Once you do get in to the doctor, be sure to have your appointment print out, called a volante, with you. Rather than being polite and asking what time everyone else’s appointment is, you have to stalk the obstetrics nurse and shove your volante at her when she comes out to call a name. I suppose it’s better than the uncomfortable shuffle of times or cutting an abuelita in line, but I was scolded on more than one occasion for not presenting the paper and being skipped over.

If you don’t have a volante because you called for an appointment, flash a photo ID so that the nurse knows you’ve arrived.

The Autonomous Community conundrum

I was – and have been – optimistic about my pregnancy, and am taking it all in stride as my body stretches, droops and tires. Being proactive, I called my OB-GYN before he called me and made an appointment immediately. It wasn’t that I was concerned, but I wanted to be sure that I had my 20-week sonogram scheduled so that the Novio and I could find out the gender together.

Twenty weeks also coincided with our birthdays, which sweetened the deal.

The doctor ordered me to repeat the tests that he didn’t have access to, which was fine, despite a disorganized system at Hospital San Carlos and a two-hour wait, urine in hand. That afternoon, I went to my local clinic to make an appointment for the results with the hope of scheduling the 20-week scan.

hospital care in Spain

I waltzed up to the appointments counter, flashed my brand-new card and presented the papers from the work up. Without looking up, the man shook his head and said that no one – NOT ONE DOCTOR – was available for the month of August. I laughed, “What do you mean? Every single obstetrician in this medical center has been sent on vacation for all of August?”

Tal y como le digo. You have to go to the Centro de Especialidades Avenida de Portugal in two weeks’ time.” Now, I’m new to Madrid, but generally speaking, a street bearing the name of another country tends to be on the way to that place. I’d been sent to the other side of town to pick up test results, out towards our westernly neighbors!

“Babies usually aren’t born in August.” Again, I laughed, as both of Micro’s parents are August babies, and asked for an hoja de reclamación to make a complaint. I was informed that one could only do that between the hours of 9am and 2pm. Had there been a table, I’d have been tempted to flip it… or at least pound my fists.

I begrudgingly left work after a week of waiting to head to Avenida de Portugal. The young doctor was gracious and apologized for the packed waiting room before folding her hands in her lap and asking what I had come for. I responded that I’d like to get my test results from July 27th, to which she gave me a blank look and informed me that I had nothing on file.

“Well, at the very least, let us weigh you and take your blood pressure since you’re here?”

Public or private?

I’ve long been a proponent of Spain’s public health system. Doctors are well trained and the treatment is free, plus prescriptions are subsidized.

And then I moved to Madrid.

I had absolutely no right to ever gripe about the system in Sevilla, because wait times were half as long and doctors took their time with patients. I felt rushed and unattended in Madrid in the public hospitals, like no one really knew what they were doing or where to send me. Is this how things are in America? Is it really normal to lose three different tests from the same person?

After asking some women at work, I checked out Hospital Clínica La Luz, a private hospital up the road from campus associated with Quirónsalud that accepts my private insurance. Unlike in Andalucía, most people I know choose to go private for healthcare, no matter what it’s for.

I was assigned to Dr. Alvi, a young woman who is specialized in pre-natal care and scans. I briefly explained my situation, and she took a look at the few papers I still had in my possession before performing an ecografía. The service seems more personable here, even if the wait times once you’re in the clinic’s magazine-stocked waiting room are longer.

We’re still undecided whether or not to have the baby in the public or private system, but that’s a tarea for third trimester.

So, does it have a pito or not?

I could tell the Novio was visibly nervous when he arrived at my office the day of our scan. He barely said a word as we quickly ate a menú del día at the nondescript bar next to the hospital.

That morning, I’d gone through the public hospital for my 20-week scan. Despite my previous woes with Hospital San Carlos, I was called just before 9am and shown into a stark room. An intern gave me a quick pelvic scan to measure the height of my cervix before dropping the goo on my stomach.

“For a pregnant lady, you’re very calm,” he said as he spread the jelly around the reaches of my belly, which now domed slightly over my profile.

And I was – this baby has made me mellow.

micro-at-a-wedding

I asked him to turn the screen away so that I could get the surprise (reiterating that I did NOT want to know the sex), but he assured me that the baby was healthy and so was I. Even my worry that I wasn’t gaining enough weight was shot down!

Once I’d wiped the goo off and got dressed, I was instructed to wait in the waiting area. A nurse handed me a few pamphlets and a facts sheets about the baby like how much it weighed and its predicted height.

The private hospital experience was a bit more welcoming. Despite my doctor being away on vacation, Dr. Orozco was pleasant and thorough, explaining every measurement he was taking, showing how the blood was flowing in and out of the ventricles and assuring us that the baby didn’t have Zika (the head was actually a bit bigger than normal – thank you, blue fish).

“What do you prefer?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders because I had bounced between the gender just about daily, even though I had a feeling our first child would be a boy. The Novio admitted he was hoping for a girl, and the doctor told him to watch the screen.

Between the two wiggling legs was something else, proving that a mother’s instinct is always right (and meaning I didn’t have to stress over choosing a name!).

The 0,0 Smackdown

My body seemed to know I shouldn’t be drinking beer from the time we conceived. In plena Feria de Abril (but seriously, this kid is andaluz through and through), I spent my final day sipping water, followed by cancelling plans for the Patios de Córdoba last minute.

If there’s one thing I miss, it’s beer. The sin alcohol or 0,0 stuff tastes plastic-y and has no gracia, so I’ve been sticking to juices, tonic water and the occasional Fanta when we go out to tomar algo.

which-non-alcoholic-beer-is-best

I’ve been sampling the 0,0 and non-alcoholic beers, much to my dismay. The worst sort? Cruzcampo. I know, Cayetana de Alba, strike me down for this blasphemy, but it is absolute garbage. Amstel has been my favorite thus far, and the Novio even scouted out a German beer bar that boasts a nicht alkoholisch on tap (it’s called Saint Germain at Calle Rios Rosas, 7) with a generous helping of snacks.

I’ve been promised a cold botellín in the puerperio, the recovery period directly after birth. I am holding my husband to that.

Everything that I know about pregnancy is wrong

Admittedly, I was nervous to be pregnant, afraid I’d balloon up like a cow and be unable to keep active. I saw my nine months of carrying a child as the beginning of the end of my freedoms – to travel, to meet friends and to sleep.

Strangely enough, I’m really enjoying it! I lay in bed for 10 minutes every morning – often before my alarm – feeling the baby wiggle around. I haven’t started speaking to him yet, despite having a named picked out and knowing that the earbuds have already developed.

micro-and-his-other-girlfriend

Everything I thought I knew about pregnancy has been utterly wrong. I expected to have the morning sickness, the stretch marks, the discomfort; but I’ve been pretty comfortable all throughout my pregnancy, save a little less spatial awareness. As a heavy eater, I assumed I’d blow up as I gave into cravings and be grazing all day. It’s true that I feel fuller faster, but it’s sometimes a question of blood sugar, and a few nuts or apple slices will suffice.

My biggest complaint is that I can’t eat everything I want. It’s difficult to remember to ask a waiter to skip the jamón in my salmorejo, or to cook the red meat just a little more on each side. I’m trying to eat more blue fish. The biggest surprise is that most of my cravings have been for healthy foods, so I’ve kept my weight under control with very little effort. And from what I hear, breastfeeding is when you really start to feel hungry!

I’ve also been sleeping like a baby, practically falling asleep and staying asleep from the time I shut my eyes until it’s time to stir. Clothes are just beginning to feel tight in the wrong places, as my belly seemed to double in size in the last five weeks of second trimester. My sister finally confessed to my husband, “YES! Cat is finally showing!”

The only complaint? Why isn’t my hair gorgeous and shiny?! The Madrid dryness means that it looks dull and dead; the upside is that my nails are growing.

What’s up in third trimester?

second-trimester-baby-bump-evolution

Apart from getting rounder? Stretch marks? Swollen ankles? I’m beginning to feel pregnant, from having to stand up slowly or feeling my belly descend towards the end of the day. I just bought my first piece of maternity clothing – a dress for a fall wedding – and have dug back out the books to think about the due date and giving birth.

Things we’re still looking into are storing the umbilical cord blood, me eating my placenta (which prompted a, “YOU WON’T EAT GRILLED PIG’S EAR BUT YOU’LL EAT THAT!? from the Novio) and childcare once my 16 weeks of maternity leave end. My OB-GYN switched me to a high-iron pill with folic acid, which I’ll take for two more months so that Micro is getting the nutrients he needs.

One of my biggest question marks still is where to have the baby. All signs point to Seville and a public hospital, and that makes sense – we have a car, the space and one of the best maternity hospitals in Spain. But if Micro comes early, I’ll need a Plan B! And as a planner, I’m remembering that the baby will come when he wants, not when’s convenient to us.

Finally, we’ll begin pre-natal classes with the matrona.

As the due date hurtles towards us, I have a little bit of everything – elation, apprehension, sorrow that it will all end and nothing will be the same. I’m enjoying my pregnancy and the way the Novio and I are savoring our time alone together. I’m sleeping and eating well and still able to take advantage of a new city, traveling for work (Micro hit four countries in one month, and I felt fine but for aching limbs at the end of the day) and feeling like my old self.

I sometimes feel like I’m fumbling for the lights in a dark hallway, bumping into walls and furniture as I try and navigate pregnancy in Madrid and Spain in general. My American friends with kids have admitted a certain degree of jealousy in knowing that I’ve had so many sonograms, but I’m just relieved that Micro is healthy and I’m feeling so good.

Remember: every woman’s body and pregnancy are different – I had very few risk factors in my family and the Novio’s, am at a healthy weight and age for pregnancy, and have not experienced any problems, save a bit of bleeding at the very beginning. I am not a doctor, so this post is a result of my experiences and research. Consult with your health care professional and don’t be afraid to ask questions.

Those of you mamás who have given birth in España: have I missed anything? Any words of wisdom for my readers and me for pregnancy in Spain?

If you missed the first trimester, skip to the first trimester of pregnancy in Spain post!

What Every Expat in Spain Should Know: Nine Skills to Celebrate Nine Years in Iberia

For me, moving to Spain in September 2007 was a baby step into a life abroad. I had studied abroad here, aced all but one of my college Spanish courses and was open to the experience of living abroad in Sevilla and making it work, no matter how homesick I got for my family, English language TV and Cheez-its.

Baby steps. This would be easy.

Well, “this would be easy” was my mindset before I actually got here and realized I had no idea how to adult, let alone how to adult in another language and country where long lines, 902 numbers and being subject to the mood of whoever was attending you became a daily reality.

nine-skills

My first year in Spain was equal parts new discoveries and new headaches, learning the language and learning how to cope with, um, Spain in general. The second year was easier, logistics-wise, but I wrestled with whether or not I wanted to stay in Spain any longer or return to the US. The learning curve was still steep and continues to be as I propose new professional goals and look forward to becoming a mamá for the first time. Even as life in Spain gets easier, I sympathize with new expats who are mostly clueless. We are all @GuiriBS.

That was me one balmy September in 2007. While there are loads of small skills you learn after a bit of time (like that those clunky 2€ coins actually are worth something and how to walk right through a wall of unwanted piropos), but some are a bit more savvy and take time time to refine.

To celebrate my ninth Spaniversary of living in Spain, every expat should know these nine hacks:

How to convert to the Metric System

Ojú, 40 grados mañana.

Why even download a weather app when your husband is addicted to the telediario every afternoon at 3:25pm? I don’t know the exact temperature in 40 Celcius is in Farenheit… just really, really warm.

If you’re an American (or, for that matter, from Myanmar or Liberia) abroad, you’re probably clueless about how to convert the Metric System into the other measurement system. I’m still learning and perfecting my memory tricks (my math skills can’t divide and then add any faster than my phone apps), but here’s how I’ve learned:

The temprature. 10 degrees is cold, 30 degrees is uncomfortably hot, and 25 degrees is – Goldilocks style – juuuuust right. I usually remember that 25 degrees is a nice 77°.

Weight and Height. I have snowboarded since I was a kid, and the because the measurements come in centimeters, rather than feet and inches, I simply add 20 centimeters onto the snowboard’s length when asked for my height. As for weight? I oscillate between 60 and 62, and prefer that low number to my weight in pounds.

The problem? Electronics come in inches, called pulgadas. Or, maybe that’s not an issue for you.

Liquids. Still working on this one, especially when the gas prices read 1.02€ for diesel but filling up my car, Pequeño Monty, costs more than I spend on insurance, bike repairs and a metro pass, combined.

Speed and distance. I worked exactly ten miles away from Sevilla during my first years as a language assistant. While I sat on a bus and read, my coworker biked the 16 kilometers to the school. Now that I drive, 120 kilometers on the highway (the speed limit on freeways) means an hour, which has become my marker.

So I round numbers up and down a bit, ok?

How to buy European clothing sizes

Differences in length and height and width means that shopping became an adventure, too. And don’t forget that not all European sizes are different – Italy, the UK and the rest of Europe have slight differences, evident by several numbers on the size tag. My biggest complaint has been that most jeans are far too long for my shrimpy legs, which makes zero sense since Spanish women, on the whole, are shorter than me.

my flamenco dress 2014

Finding your sizes in Europe takes a great deal of trying on, discarding and ignoring the tags. What is a dress or pants size 8 in America could be a M and anywhere between a 38 and 42 in Spain (and that’s not taking length into account), whereas a shirt at Zara that’s a medium may need to be a large at Lefties – and they’re the same company.

En fin.

Shoes are an entirely different story – and an easier one! I wear a size 8 in the US, which is a clavado 39. My only problem is that I am useless in heels.

The only great equalizer in the Spanish fashion world is the traje de gitana. You are a size 40, trust me.

How to travel around Spain

I inherited my dad’s love of beer, healthy doses of adventure and his nose. He also passed along his intrinsic skill of budget travel, and even though I’ve moved out of the phase in my life where overnight buses and questionable hostel beds are acceptable, so long as they’re in the sake of traveling further, and I’ve seen a good chunk of Europe thanks to it.

Spain is full of cool things to see, do and experience, from tomato slinging festivals to jaw-dropping road trips to hidden beaches and charming small towns. Unless you have a car (and enough money to cover the liters of gas… see above), you’re got to stick to public transportation or ride shares.

Thankfully, traveling around Spain can be done on the cheap. To fully take advantage, check out Bla Bla Car for ride sharing (or share your trip – I took three others to Valencia for Fallas and had the gas paid for), sign up for budget airline newsletters for special offers and loyalty programs and buy your RENFE train tickets three months in advance or share a table of four.

You can also take advantage of long weekends – nearly one a month! – and local holidays to maximize your time to be desconectado. And don’t shrug off places that are a bit tougher to get to, as those are usually the places with encanto.

How to speak a bit of Spanish

When my parents first came to visit me over the Christmas holidays, they begged me to order food for them. I’d been pinching the euros of my measly paycheck by subsiding off of frozen pizzas and spaghetti and could barely recommend a nice place to eat, let alone dissect a menu. It was a lot of, “I think that’s fish” and, “It’s a pig part that you probably won’t like” to a family that eats with their eyes.

pulpo

That was the turning point for me – I told my new boyfriend that he’d have to start speaking to me in Spanish, and despite the frustrations and tears and utter confusion with andalú, I consider learning Spanish to be one of my proudest achievements.

There’s no need to be fluent after nine years, but I firmly believe that knowing Spanish makes life in Spain richer. It’s easier to interact with locals, particularly outside of cities, and there’s a wealth of cultural nuances that I’ve learned and come to love because of it.

a-veces-la-locura-spanish-words

People often ask me how to learn Spanish, and I wish I had an easy answer. Mine was a healthy dose of not caring about making mistakes, talking to anyone who would listen, reading books and noting down new words and expressions and calming my nerves with a few cervecitas. You could also try signing up for classes – I liked my audited classes at Sevilla Habla a lot – or apps, and the Ultimate Spanish Practice and Review was my Bible for months, but nothing beats swapping stories with an abuelito at your corner bar.

How to do a reclamación

You haven’t really lived in Spain until you’ve logged an official complaint. You know all of those signs in restaurants, shops and pharmacies that say “Queda a la disposición un libro de reclamaciones” or something to that effect?

The first time I ever suggested using it was when I felt a friend had been treated poorly at a public hospital. The nurse who had effectively called her an irresponsible harlot was disciplined, and I soon found out that making a formal complaint is often synonymous with getting ‘er done. Bad service at a restaurant means I’ll refuse the offer of a free meal in favor of letting the boss know a waiter has been snide (as if never going back weren’t punishment enough),  and the Novio even once got 12€ from Bricomart after they sold him two faulty ceiling fans.

Cruzcampo Bar Sign

The best I’ve ever done is two in a span of 12 hours – the first over the phone when the energy company Iberdrola decided we had an emergency to fix at midnight and promptly began drilling when I was fast asleep, then the following morning at my health clinic for terrible service after being told here were no doctors in the month of August because babies weren’t born in August (I showed my TIE card as proof that, yes, babies come during the Pan-European vacation month, too).

But I don’t do it to prove a point or because I’m a demanding customer: when my family’s bags were lost last Christmas and ended up in Phoenix instead of Sevilla, I asked them to be sent to my house via courier. I was informed that Iberia didn’t have a courier to take them to my house, and the customer service rep urged me to fill out a reclamación form so that the company would realize the importance of the service. I fill out reclamaciones so that everyone else can benefit from better services.

How to deal with things back home

It’s now easier than ever to stay in touch with loved ones back home, despite the time difference, but what about all of the extras? The money matters, bills, sending packages and prescriptions? Though I’ve gradually let go of many of those things (just not Cheez-its), I can’t bring myself to uproot entirely, even at risk of FACTA sanctions and double taxation.

Spanish potato omelette

The USA seemed even further across the Atlantic than it does now. Thanks to online everything, I can move money or order English language books for cheap; when I came to Spain in 2007, I was barely toeing the line of calling myself a resident of Spain – I saw nine months as a brief foray into expat life, so I got a year’s prescription of my pills, pared down my shoes and sweaters and even traveled northern Europe without a jacket because, why waste valuable suitcase space? My biggest complaints in those early days was not being able to EuroHack or sometimes cope with a lack of American products.

And there were little things – an American style measuring cup, my deodorant and gym shoes that didn’t cost a week’s worth of private class hustle.

Nine years on, I only own a few American-bought appliances and clothing items, and I’ve found ways to just toe the line of American life. But more than that, I’ve had to take many of my “adult” things online, especially credit card payments, sending money abroad cheaply, banking and maintaining our savings accounts in an American bank. Make sure that you especially know how to keep your phone number, deal with money and credit card or mortgage payments, and take care of all of your issues at home.

2008 Elections

And, no matter what a Spaniard says, sending thank you notes or greeting cards never goes out of style (and I always have a stock!).  Plus, Madrid is a mecca of American everything – original version films, American brands and even a Five Guys and a Steak n’ Shake. Our British counterparts have Boots pharmacies and Dealz, a version of Pounds. Globalization isn’t always a bad thing, but when you’re majorly homesick…?

How to deal with red tape

Seville’s Plaza de España is the first place I lusted after in Sevilla. It’s regal and striking, particularly at sunset.

But at sunrise when you’re lining up for a residency card petition? The colonnades and the moat lose their sheen – believe me. Spaniards invented reed tape, and while I’m sure it doesn’t compare to Italy or the US, it’s a necessary headache as an expat in Spain, me temo. It’s inefficient and slow, prompting the famous line, las cosas del palacio van despacio. And if you’re non-EU, the process becomes even further clotted by translations, notarizations and multiple appointments.

By the time this video was passed around expat groups, I’d already formulated my extranjería hack skills and there were significant improvements in the way that many steps, such as an appointment system and online status checking, could be handled. But it’s not just the foreigner’s office that operates on its own scheduled – the Novio is a government worker and often has his paychecks come late, and let’s not forget the first time I applied for unemployment, when a worker was literally napping on her desk. Fear not, fellow guiris – even the locals are victims.

My tips: bring five photocopies of each, arrive after coffee and be extra friendly. I once made friends with a frowny face worker in the Hacienda office by asking about his Betis ashtray. Ever since I stopped rolling my eyes and learned to change my attitude (and bring a book), it’s been easier to deal with the lines, the wait times and the mechanical responses from the civil servants. And Plaza de España is now beautiful again.

ceramics at Plaza de España Seville Spain

But I still think that the autorización de regreso is a scam to earn 13€ while the extranjería takes its sweet time in issuing your residency card renewal.

How to cope when your friends leave

Back in the days when Spain was but a brief life interlude, I never turned down an invitation out for tapas or a drink, and found myself adding Facebook friends left and right – it was the adult equivalent of leaving your dorm room door open, after all. Even when homesickness threatened to have me retreat to my piso with a box of Magnum Minis, it was easy to give someone a toque and meet them at the corner bar for a coffee.

Feliz Ano Nuevo!!

The following year, the Novio was sent abroad to work for two months, right after we’d spent the whole summer apart. I nearly forgot the sound of his voice and was nervous that I’d plunge right back into the Magnum mini binge. So, I forced myself to make new friends, and to try and invert my time into friends who will be sticking around for the long-term. There’s always a cycle – people come and go, and this is a hallmark of expat life.

This doesn’t mean it’s easy.

spanish american girls at the feria de sevilla

Friends leaving is HARD, and my merry little band of guiri girlfriends in Seville went from six to three in the span of two months. Two friends that I made early on left the country – one for the US and the other for Indonesia – right when I was packing up for Madrid. And they’re not the only ones. My Sevilla dream team spans these nine years, from the one who adopted me as her wing woman and promptly introduced me to the Novio, to the one born in the wrong country whose musings on sevillano life, four years after leaving, reach straight to my heart. And who could forget the night we all bought matching underwear from a vending machine after rapping Eminem?

I miss those faces and our antics all the time, and I’m not sure I’ve completely superado this slice of expat life.

What helps me cope is knowing that every single one of them has made the decision that was best in that moment, and that Sevilla will always be ours.

How to grin and bear it

The successful marketing campaign, “Spain is different,” is oft repeated by Spaniards and guiris alike. It’s true – many things in Spain seem to function without any rhyme or reason, and I’m still taken aback by the clash of the vanguard and the antiquated often.

cat gaa at the feria de sevilla

Spain is, indeed, different, and not all places in Spain are created the same. Perhaps that’s why I love it so much, and why my visitors love it on the surface, too. For all of the headaches and eye rolls and “I HATE SPAIN” days, I feel challenged, mostly fulfilled and like I ended up in a country that has welcomed me with dos besos and a squeeze on the shoulders. I have learned to grin and bear it and love it, despite its faults and my desperation, at times.

Nine years ago this September, I got off a plane and stepped into a world where Spanish was my language weapon and every day presented a new desafío, from figuring out how to navigate a bus system to conquering the crippling bureaucratic maze to remembering why and for whom I came in the first place.

Who knows where we’ll be in a few years. With the first of likely several babies on the way and the Novio with ganas to have his own adventure abroad, I may not have many Spaniversaries left. But pase lo que pase, every September 13th is a special day for me when I remember how good Spain has been to me. And it extends far beyond the riqueza of the lifestyle – I sappily believe that this place has shaped me in a positive way. I’m excited to raise a family here and to continue being surprised by what Spain offers.

Spain wins the 2010 World Cup

And if the first nine years is any indication, my 30s is going to be a pretty awesome decade, too!

If you’ve lived abroad before, would you add anything to this list? Please share in the comments below!

I’ve included my affiliate link for Transferwise, a safe way to send money from abroad, in my post. I get a small commission if you use it, but I wouldn’t link it if I didn’t use it and love it myself! The money I earn from this blog helps maintain the site, and I appreciate your collaboration!

A Guiri Guide to Having a Baby in Spain: 1st Trimester

Well, if there were ever a cat in the proverbial bag, it’s gotten out of the bag and run around the block.

Yes, I’m pregnant.

Yes, it’s the Novio’s.

Yes, I’m exhausted and have a little half moon of a bump. I am also thrilled. And that’s why I’ve been MIA from this blog, social media and my favorite cervecerías for the last several weeks.

Having a baby in Spain was something that my mind had been programmed since the Novio and I got serious. We’d talked about offspring quite early on in our relationship, bought a house with said offspring in mind, and began conditioning our minds to nights nursing babies instead of beers (oh, and I bought a pregnancy book, which thoroughly scared the Novio).

Being pregnant in Spain

And then it happened.

On a Friday night in May, I was fresh off of a train from two interviews in Madrid. I’d been too nervous to eat, so I sat in a friend’s car snarfing down a pizza I’d begged the Novio to order me before a concert. I was drained, which I chalked up to the 5am wake up, the dizzying cost of breakfast in Madrid (4.80€ for a coffee and slice of tortilla!) and two intense interviews.

“You drive terribly in heels,” he said with a mouth laced with beer.

I cried.

“You’re pregnant.”

Qué nooooo,” I responded, knowing full well that I was late but a bit in denial about the whole thing. I was interviewing for jobs in Madrid! I was making summer plans! I was about to drink the Western Chicago suburbs out of craft beer! And I had no other symptoms.

The following day, I took out the trash and headed to the pharmacy, constantly checking behind my back to see if any of my maruja friends from the barrio was in line.

Uhh, dispone de prueba de embarazo?” I asked the pharmacist, not knowing if I’d be able to get a pregnancy test there or if I’d have to head to the Corte Inglés, the Plan B for anything you can’t find at another store. She handed me a box, which I stuffed at the bottom of my bag.

At home, the Novio urged me to take the exam before he began making lunch. Knowing that the HcG horomone – the horomone that surges in pregnant women and determines the outcome of a pregnancy test – is highest in the morning, I chose to wait until the following day, Mother’s Day in the US.

When the two crimson lines appeared the Sunday, post-churros, on the stick, my mind was sent into a tailspin. Crap! I drank a ton of rebujito at the Feria de Jerez the weekend before! How many weeks along am I? Is everything developing ok? How am I going to keep this from my mother when I call her this afternoon?!

I emerged from the bathroom, and the Novio read my face. “Lo hemos conseguido!

Pregnancy Vocabulary in Spanish: Words to Know

Much like when I got my driver’s license in Spain, being pregnant has come with a slew of news words to learn.

Aborto natural / forzoso – Miscarriage / Abortion. A word that’s also sounded a bit fuerte to me, Spanish uses the same word for pregnancy termination, whether or not it’s natural or by choice. An abortion can be performed in Spain up to 14 weeks; abortions performed due to high risk to mother or baby or deformations can be administered up to 22 weeks. If this is a consideration for you, check this Q&As page in Spanish, or ask your healthcare provider.

Ácido Fólico – Folic Acid. Long considered a must during pregnancy, folic acid helps your baby’s spinal cord form properly and you’ll notice it grows your nails and hair, too. I was advised to start taking folic acid a month or two before planning on being pregnant and to continue all the way through the pregnancy. My prescription is written by my public doctors (many private doctors cannot issue them) and are nearly fully subsidized by the government.

Analisís de sangre / orina – Blood / urine analysis. Get used to needles, cups and doctors. If you have a normal pregnancy, you won’t have to do too many, but the first trimester is rife with testing. Tests will likely be ordered by your tocólogo and/or gynecologist.

Cartilla de Embarazada – Pregnancy Information pamphlet. This document will include information about the mother: her age, her health, any previous pregnancies and medications taken. The same will go for the father (just no previous pregnancies). This information will be filled out by the matrona on your first visit, and your obstetrician will fill in information regarding your subsequent appointments, such as medication prescribed. You should bring this pamphlet with you to all visits.

Cartilla de Embarazada for Andalusia

Cribado – Genetic testing done at 12 and 20 weeks. Stemming from the verb cribar, which means to narrow down, a cribado is a blood and urine exam performed to rule out genetic anomalies, such as Down Syndrome and Edwards Syndrome, plus confirm your blood group. This test is extremely important if you’re over 35. Your results, at least in Andalucía, will be mailed to your home address. If results are positive, you’ll undergo more testing. If it’s negative, do yourself a favor and DO NOT Google what your baby likely doesn’t have.

Ecografía – Sonogram or Ultrasound. These will be vaginal until about week 12, after which the baby will be large enough to detect through an abdominal sonogram. Expect to have 3-4 of these in a normal, non-risk pregnancy.

Embarazo de Riesgo – High-Risk Pregnancy. Women in Spain are considered high-risk pregnancies if they are over 35 years old, have a history of multiple miscarriages, are carrying multiples or have certain medical conditions, such as diabetes. These pregnancies often have more doctor’s visits and testing, though it is all covered under the social security scheme if you’re going that route.

Fecha del Parto – Due Date. This will be 40 weeks after the first day of your last missed period, meaning conception usually happens two weeks after (full disclosure: we’re pretty sure baby Micro came to be during the Feria. Any surprise there?). Note that trimester (trimestre) and weeks (semanas) are important buzzwords, and that your baby’s gestational age is considered week+day, such as 11+4. Many of my pregnant or mom friends also call it, salir de cuentas.

Grupo Sanguíno – Blood Type. I have yet to figure mine out, but this is a good time to do so.

Matrona – Midwife. Though you won’t see a midwife too often in the first trimester, you should ask your GP for an appointment with her so that she can fill out your cartilla del embarazada. She will also measure your weight and blood pressure on each visit, then note it done for your records, plus conduct your pre-birthing classes. This person will be assigned to you if you are in the Social Security Regimen, though you can choose to see a private midwife if your insurance covers it, or you pay out-of-pocket.

Tocólogo/a – Obstetrician. This doctor will lead you through the medical side of your pregnancy, from sonograms to the actual delivery if you so request. This person will be assigned to you if you are in the Social Security Regimen, though you can choose to see a private midwife if your insurance covers it, or you pay out-of-pocket (I chose to change to a friend’s mother in the same building with my public health insurance, and she makes the appointments for me. I feel comfortable asking her questions when I have doubts, and this has made a huge difference in keeping me calm!). This word is extremely Andalusian, from what I can tell.

Toxoplasmosis – This may be way Spain-specific, but toxoplasmosis is a big, big deal: this parasitic disease can spread through toxoplasmos found in raw or undercooked meat, poorly washed fruits and vegetables or even cat feces. I’ve long let go of a rare steak and sushi, but jamón can also be dangerous for your unborn child. Some may say it’s a crime to eat embutidos, cured meats, that have been previously frozen to kill potential toxins, but it’s one way to savor your bocadillo de salchichón!

I’ve found that some people are more lax about what they’re consuming than others – always speak to a medical professional and make the choice yourself. Toxoplasmosis can be scary and require further testing and even treatment, so chow down at your own risk!

First Steps

Once we’d told my mother-in-law (and, yes, she promptly began crocheting bonnets and booties), I made an appointment right away with my GP, which is the gateway to any other specialist. She didn’t do much more than congratulate me and ask how I was feeling before scheduling an appointment with the matrona for the following week. I had also called a friend’s mom personally, who would eventually become my tocóloga in Seville.

An important document you’ll receive is known in Andalucía as a cartilla de embarazada, or a small pamphlet that your doctor will record your stats, your treatment and your ultrasound results, plus all dates. Later, you can write down your birth plan here.

Typical doctor visits when pregnant in Spain

The matrona took down all pertinent information regarding both mine and the Novio’s health history, checked my blood pressure as well as height and weight and talked to us about having a healthy pregnancy. These doctors become more important as you develop a birth plan and begin to take birthing classes, though we haven’t had to see her since.

I’ve been fortunate to have a close seguimiento throughout my entire pregnancy. I have been able to squeeze in appointments before Dr. Sánchez is actually on duty and have her call me when other women cancel. In the two months since we found out the news, I have gotten four ultrasounds in the public health system, all of which have been no cost to me. Additionally, the medicine prescribed to me – folic acid, progesterone and baby aspirin – has been mostly subsidized by my public health insurance – a month’s worth of the aforementioned meds have cost me less than 5€.

Two important tests that you’ll do during your first trimester are blood and urine tests around 10 weeks to determine a few things: your blood type, your risk for genetic diseases such as Down Syndrome, and infections. You’ll also be told if you’re at risk for anemia, gestational diabetes or toxoplasmosis and get a check up of your general health. I was able to do both at the same time (be sure to go en ayunas, or without eating or drinking, for at least 12 hours, and bring a snack for after your blood gets drawn) and got the results mailed right to my house two weeks later.

The cribado can be a little scary – it’s when your mind begins to wonder if anything is potentially wrong – and it requires you to sign a waiver. You can refuse to take it, of course, and any other treatment offered to you by the state. Be sure to take the documentation given to you by the tocólogo, which is both the order for the test and the release form, which you must sign before the tests can be administered.

The best advice I’ve gotten from all four doctors I’ve seen? Keep living your life as you normally would. Don’t overeat, listen to your body when it needs rest and cut out alcohol, drugs and cigarettes. And surprisingly, the ganas to have a beer have been next to none since right before I found out I was going to be a mom.

Público or Privado?

Spain has two healthcare schemes: public and private. If you are working for someone else, you are automatically in the social security, or public, scheme. If you are autónoma, self-employed, you can go public, as well; if you’re not working you would be considered private and thus pay for your insurance, co-pays and medication. Check to see if the baby’s other parent has access to healthcare for you and the baby, as some partnerships can share this right.

Public healthcare is open to anyone working or who has worked in Spain (such as a retired person). Clinics and hospitals are denoted as public and usually subject to regional law, called leyes autonómicas. You would be assigned a general practitioner, or a médico de cabecera, in the clinic or ambulatorio closest to your residence, who will then pass you along to the matrona and tocólogo.

I chose to go both routes, as I have both public and private insurance. Truthfully, I prefer the public route because it’s very wham, bam, thank you ma’am – I go at my assigned time, am seen by the doctor with no frills, and they schedule my subsequent appointments for me. The public doctors can also administer prescriptions and women who have high-risk pregnancies often prefer the public system because of the close eye they keep on pregnancies.

When I saw the private doctor, I felt out of place. There was a higher degree of modesty, which actually made me feel uncomfortable, though the equipment was more high-tech and the tests were more thorough. And because I had my cartilla with me, the doctor could give me a second opinion about the treatments I’d received (and spoke highly of my public doctor!).

Some women prefer to get recommendations from other mothers and pay out of pocket. As you can imagine, those who are at the top of their field are more costly. Most private hospitals and clinics can help you choose a provider. The Facebook group Mums in Seville has been great for searching for recommendations, used baby goods and general questions about raising a baby as a guiri in Spain.

Note that private insurance may require what’s called a periodo de carencia (usually 9-12 months) before you can have a pregnancy covered for free or a reduced cost. This means that you must have been paying your plan for a duration of time, stipulated by the company, before you can have free access to maternity specialists. I’ve had Caser’s Activa Plan for three years, so I qualified for free check-ups and most non-invasive procedures are covered. Plus, they have doctors in every neighborhood, so I can walk to appointments!

Maternity Leave in Spain

If you’re cuenta ajena, praise the social system – you’ll get 16 weeks of maternity leave with 100% of your salary paid by your employer at the time this article was published. As someone procedente de the USA, I am sure I’ll be forever thankful to have that time at home to adjust to my new role and bond with my newborn.

Be sure to double-check local and sector labor laws (type convenio + your sector + your province into Google for a PDF document. For example, “Convenio Enseñanza Privada No Reglada Sevilla”).

Any recommendations for English-speaking doctors in Seville?

Feeling confident in my Spanish and fully knowing the restraints of Spanish red tape, I was satisfied in the public system. That said, I asked several guiri moms for their recommendations for doctors and doulas who spoke English in town:

Doctor: Dr. Guillermo Espinosa at Millenium Clinics in La Buhaíra, a Sanitas clinic who often sees Americans and other English-speaking patients.

Doula / breastfeeding expert: Eugenia Nigro, a Dutch woman who has practiced in several countries and now calls Sevilla home. She does a number of prenatal classes, as well, and can be reached by email at ginanigro@gmail.com.

I have not personally used these professionals, but it could be a good place to start.

Pero bueno, how are you?

Fantastic, actually. Before I could see Micro’s tiny arms and legs, I could hardly believe that I was growing a tiny human. Coming up with excuses for going home early or not drinking has been a fun challenge, and telling our family and friends has been emotional. I was able to tell my mom, dad and girlfriends back home in person.

My only symptoms are a few larger body parts (namely my breasts and butt) and becoming tired at an earlier hour, but I’ve had no nausea or mad aversions to food (miss you, pescaíto frito). Truthfully, these 20 weeks have been eye-opening and have left me with a lot of emotions as I am not only swallowing the changes in my body but also how this baby is going to change our lives. To say the Novio and our families are excited is a gross understatement. Oh, and I moved to Madrid just before starting second trimester.

pregnancy at 11, 12 and 14 weeks

And s/he’s been doing some cool things – a long-haul flight, trips to the beach and festivals in Andalucía, sleeping a TON and witness to a few heavy metal concerts before those tiny earbuds could be damaged. I’ve been able to work and work out normally, though I’m a bit more conscious of what I’m eating, the pace at which I’m living and what my body is telling me. As my father said, “I’m sure you’re healthier than ever if you’re eating a Mediterranean diet.” The legumes, fish and lean meats have been in my carrito and I’m craving fruit juice, salmorejo and spicy foods. I can sleep on a dime (or doze off on the floor or on public transportation). I stopped running, even if just to not wait for a stoplight.

Without getting too Mommy on you all, I’m finding it incredible that my body is made for this and that it knows what to do. Some days I’ll drink gallons of water and other days I crave salty food. I can be up all night or sleep for 12 hours straight. My pace of life has definitely slowed down a bit, but in a good way. Micro hasn’t stopped me, surprisingly!

What’s ahead in Second Trimester

First off, we find out if Micro will be a gitana or a chulapo in the second trimester of pregnancy! Typically, the gender can be revealed as early as 14 weeks, but I wanted to wait until the Novio and I could go to a sonogram together. I believe he’ll be in disbelief, despite my growing belly, until he sees the little one on the screen move around and we find out if it will share a name with him or not.

Pro tip: People in Spain don’t seem to understand why you’d wait to find out the gender, so if you don’t want to know, tell your doctors immediately and remind them again at every subsequent visit. I could have found out far earlier, but I’m enjoying the wait! In fact, by the time I push publish, I’ll be at 20+2 and will know if the baby is a boy or girl (My feeling is that it’s a boy!).

Having a baby in Spain appointments

I’m teetering right in the middle of my pregnancy and between two medical systems and beginning to think about what comes around week 40 – delivery and bringing home a baby to our teeny flat with no elevator. I’m thinking about public v. private in Madrid, where I might have the baby and how I want the birthing experience to be. Nancy and I focus our Skype calls on babies and the topic always sneaks up – my jet set group of friends in Madrid were legitimately shocked when I relayed a list of no-no foods to them.

But it’s been fun and I’m loving the extra sleep. And pastries. I am also loving the extra pastries.

What do you think about the big news? Any lingering questions, moms-to-be, or advice to give? Please note that I was a healthy, 30-year-old woman with no family history or previous pregnancies and low risk factors across the board. This post is meant to be orientative and speak about my experience. I appreciate those of you who have mentioned other treatments depending on your situation and pregnancy. Always, ALWAYS consult your doctor or midwife, ask questions and get informed!

Please read about the second 14 weeks of my pregnancy on my post A Guiri Guide to Pregnancy in Spain: Second Trimester!

Moving to Madrid: My first month in La Capi

As soon as I’d said the word, I clasped my hand over my mouth.

“Gracias.” 

Not an aspirated graciaaaaaaahhhhh, the final syllable lingering like an afterthought. A full pronounced grah-cee-us. With an S at the end.

The man handed my to-go cup of coffee and wished me a nice day, and I walked away, wide-eyed and concerned about how quickly I’d dropped my andalú. What was next, calling people maja or – worse – asking for a caña?

metro of Madrid

It’s already been a month since my abrupt adiós to Sevilla and moved to Madrid. I dropped into life in La Capital like I’d walked its streets forever, like I knew where all of the old man bars were to be found, like I could close my eyes when stepping off the Metro and still make a transfer correctly.

Our aterrizaje in Madrid can only be described as a soft one, one in which there was just a quick bounce, and we had landed.

It had been so long since I’d left a place that I call home and jumped into the unknown – I’ve lived in Sevilla longer simultaneously than any other place (and I moved four times before age 12, so I’m used to being the new kid in class). But, Madrid wasn’t really the unknown. The Novio has tons of family in Madrid, and a week after we arrived, all 10 of the primos were crowded around a table, sharing a meal of pasta and endless embutidos. And I already knew the transportation system, had battled extranjería and didn’t trip over every other word in Spanish.

Gran Via Madrid

My biggest battles, so far, have been adjusting to some language differences (who calls a loaf of bread a pistola?! The madrileños do!) and training my body to get up early and work in the mornings. Between getting settled and starting a new job, I’ve become a creature of the barrio, barely leaving my little bubble in Chamberí.

Hogar Dulce Hogar: Looking for a flat in Madrid

Our first order of business was finding a place to live. Madrid, in case you didn’t know, is large. Like, huge. And every district has smaller pockets of neighborhood, or locals will refer to them as by their nearest metro line. “Qué tal en Metro Cuzco?” I don’t know, how is it?

pamplona houses

So, we began narrowing down the neighborhoods and set a firm price since we’ve decided to not rent our place in Seville just yet. Chamberí was the top pick for areas, and our budget would stretch just far enough for two bedrooms and around 50 square meter of living quarters. After living for six years in a house with the Novio, I was used to space and modern appliances. Plus, nearly every place we saw on Idealista was for students only (with mommy and daddy’s aval bancario) or meant going through an agency and paying extra fees and tax. But I was optimistic, even in the dead of summer.

I became an Idealista junkie, browsing on my phone every time I picked up free wi-fi or waited to cross the street at a stoplight. I called up agents and people offering up places meeting our criteria from 9am until well after siesta time, using the time between tours to take note of the nearest market or churrería.

Every hole-in-the-wall student apartment we saw had something off about it. Too small, too dark, wall-to-wall with Cuéntame-Cómo-Pasó kitchen tiles and heavy wooden furniture. It had been nine years since I’d looked for a place to live in Spain, and nothing seemed “just right.” And this, from someone who wrote an ebook about moving to Spain.

The fifth place we saw is owned by a man named Jesús, sevillano by birth but very much madrileño from many years in the capital city. The place didn’t tick off all of the boxes, but it would work nicely (and no Cuéntame-era tiles to scrub!), particularly for walking to work and saving more than 50€ in a monthly transportation pass.

Best Old Man Bars in Madrid

The area of Chamberí we live in – Rios Rosas – is within 30 minutes walking of Tribunal, right up the street from Nuevos Ministerios and seven stops from Sol while being well-connected on three metro lines. Better yet? It’s quiet yet lively, and the proximity to Old Man Bars is killer.

The Novio has even toyed around the idea of writing a blog about the quality of the Old Man Bars around here.

Baby Steps and an Introduction to the Comunidad de Madrid’s Health System

Jesús handed us the keys and we killed a few cockroaches as we moved in. We settled in, walking around the neighborhood and stopping to eat our way through free munchies at all of the Old Man Bars we discovered. The Novio got us empadronados the following day, and then it was up to me to get us registered at our nearest ambulatorio.

I have seen the error of my ways, people: I can never, ever complain about the Sistema Andaluz de Salud. It was extremely easy to change my records from Andalucía to the Comunidad de Madrid and ask for a new health card, which arrived to my mailbox in three weeks. Everyone was pleasant and signed me up for a doctor and nurse they assured me were great resources for foreigners, and they weren’t wrong. Plus, you don’t have to go through your GP to get an appointment with specialists.

hospital care in Spain

I left smugly, thinking that my move to Madrid would be even easier and called to make an appointment with the lady doctor.

No, no le podemos atender en este centro.” I winced over the phone and asked why not. The woman on the other end curtly told me that they would call me whenever an appointment was available. I explained my situation and the urgency, but she wouldn’t budge. It seemed I was caught in some bureaucratic no-man’s-land, privy to a funcionario who may have been sensitive to my case, or maybe not.

When I did get an appointment, the doctor sent me for a routine blood test at a hospital near my new job. I agreed, thinking I could head in a little early so as not to miss my third day on the job. I waited for over TWO hours and, having not eaten, dug into my granola bar before even having the nurse applied pressure on the stab mark. The sugar put a spring in my step as I showed up for work an hour late, and I secretly missed all of the old ladies in my clinic back in Seville who would say, “Oh, I’m not sick, I’m just wasting time by waiting in line to see the doctor. Haven’t got anywhere to be.”

And when I asked my centro de salud for a follow-up for the results? I was told there are no specialists during the entire month of August, so I’ve been sent to the other side of the city three weeks later.

En fin, I’m learning as I go and being that person on Facebook groups.

A new job in a new sector

The biggest reason we moved to Madrid in the first place was for professional reasons. As much as I loved teaching English in Spain, I couldn’t see myself doing it forever because of the lack of mobility. I was director of studies, and I couldn’t aspire to much more.

As a child who ran before she walked, slowing down to a trot is never something I’ve been good at.

cat gaa sunshine and siestas

I’m nearly a month into a new position as an admissions counselor at an American university with a free-standing campus in Madrid. Myself a product of the system and an experienced teacher in Spain, I can easily point out the benefits of a liberal arts education, a student life office and a multicultural campus – just in my office, it’s normal to hear French and Arabic in addition to English and Spanish. And it’s making me nostalgic for my own co-ed years at the University of Iowa.

More than anything, I’m happy to feel the mental and pshyical exhaustion at the end of the day. The learning curve at my job has been the steepest, between acronyms and academic policies and learning the names of everyone on campus. But I’m feeling fulfilled and that the job is a great blend of skills for me – I’ve got one foot in the education field while the other in the PR and communications camp.

La Vida Madrileña

Pero cómo es que tienes planes? my cousin Irene asked when I turned down her invitation to go to the pool one afternoon when the A/C and reruns of Big Bang Theory were no longer appealing. Part of landing in Madrid was being able to reconnect with friends I haven’t seen in some time, have them show me their city instead of the other way around, and meet so many people who I’ve only ever been connected to through social media.

When I’m asked how Madrid is, I can only reply that, it’s muy bien with a raised eyebrow.

More than anything, it’s been the small adjustments. I was reminded by two neighbors that it’s a fineable offense to take out your garbage in the morning, and that the bins for plastic only come on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. That drinks and breakfast are more expensive, despite my salary staying the same as it was in Seville. That you can get coffee to go or head to the market at 8pm for groceries. I’ve eaten Belgian, Korean and killer Mexican food – and my excuse has always been that I don’t have an over.

I often feel like I’m in Chicago, just conducting my business in Spanish.

Madrid vs. Sevilla: the Ultimate Smackdown

Do I miss Seville? Te-la. Like, me duele en el alma. Walking over the Triana bridge to meet friends last weekend, the Novio and I took stock on the past month. Are we happy in Madrid? I’d say so. We’re together, like our neighborhood and are enjoying our jobs. Madrid has everything that Seville didn’t have for us.

But it’s not Seville, nor could it ever aspire to be Seville.

I have been wondering if people who live in Madrid could ever make as easy of a transition from the capital to Seville. It’s a city where you can’t sit down to most restaurants unless you’re in the hora franja, or 1-5 or 8-midnight. Where there’s only one pharmacy open on Sunday per neighborhood and not a single supermarket. It’s smaller, public transportation is almost mystifying and the whole pace of life is… different. And don’t expect free tapas with your caña.

seville guadalquivir river

But Seville is easy to fall in love with on first glance and romantic in a way that the Metro de Madrid and the long avenues could never be. We’re not so stuck in our neighborhoods and often crisscross the city for tapas or concert venues. We stop for a beer with friends because time moves at a different speed, and that beer is far cheaper, anyway.

On my last trip, I was exhausted by the time my train rolled into Santa Justa just past 11pm. The contrast of sweltering air after two hours on a refrigerated train car was strangely welcoming, and I perked up as I told the taxi driver to take me to a bar where friends were waiting. Esto, sí. This is home to me.

Ana asked me how things were going, grazing my knee every chance she got, just in case I wasn’t really there. When I told her that things were flowing and jiving, she just replied, “Tía, you could make a home anywhere.” It’s the truth.

We don’t know how long we’ll be here, but three years is the minimum. We could stay a lot longer – or maybe try going abroad for a few years. Pase lo que pase, I wanted to live in a big city once in my life, and Madrid feels manageable and willing to let me get to know it.

And we’ll always have Sevilla, thankfully.

Moving to Madrid

Have you ever moved to a new, bigger city? What were your steps to coping and coming out alive? I’d love to hear your take in the comments!

Seville, I’m breaking up with you

Querida Sevilla mía,

You know that age-old, “It’s not you, it’s me”? Well, it’s not me. Eres tú. We’ve reached the end of a nine-year relationship, one marked with uncertainty at the beginning, with as much elation as frustration in the years since we became intimate. And más pronto que tarde, I knew we’d end up here.

Te estoy dejando.

giralda sunset1

My friend Stacy maintains that the first Spaniard you fall for is never the one you stay with – it’s always the second. If Spanish lovers were cities, you’d be my second great love, my second Spaniard. Two years before we got to know each other, Valladolid entered my life. Stately and daunting, but a romance that was always a little off. Castilla y León’s capital never did it for me, a bit too cold and a bit too stand-offish to be anything long-term. Neither the castles nor the robust red wine could woo me, but it was a foray into what it meant to truly love a city.

You and I met on a sweltering July day in 2005, your characteristic heat baking midday as I dragged a suitcase towards Calle Gravina. Back then, the Alameda was all albero, you could drive down Constitution and around the roundabout at Puerta Jerez and there was a noticeable lack of skyscrapers, gastrobars and coffee houses. On the surface, you were beautiful, but I pined for Valladolid, not entirely convinced you were boyfriend material.

tapas bodeguita romero typical Spanish tavern

Two years later, we were thrust together again. Still sore from being flat-out rejected by Granada, I set out to try and get to know you on a Sunday evening in late September when everything was shuttered. Walking down Pagés del Coro, I craned my neck to watch the swallows dip between the balconies and around the spire of La Estrella chapel.

Swallows, golondrinas, always return to where they’re from. Even at that moment, exhausted from two weeks traveling and unsure about starting my job the next morning at IES Heliche, I knew I had returned to where I was to be from. In those tender first steps in our relationship, I was smitten. I would soon fall deeply in love with you.

Plaza del Altozano Triana

But today, nine years later, I ripped the band aid off, and HARD. I just up and left it seems, without time for long goodbyes at all of the places I’ve come to haunt in these years together, to the hundreds of caras I’ve come to know in the barrio. No ugly cries, just a few tears pricking my eyes as I locked up my house, rolled one suitcase to the bus stop and headed towards Santa Justa and, later, Madrid.

Like I said, it’s you, not me.

I guess you could say I saw this coming, like that little ball that sits low in your stomach when you know life is going to darte un giro in a big, big way. I needed that giro because you’d simply gotten to easy. I can understand even the oldest abuelo buried deep into one of your old man bars, can no longer get lost in your tangle of streets. You are a comfortable lover, warm and welcoming, familiar and comforting.

But I’m not one to be estancada, stagnant, comfortable. Walking down La Castellana in March, the ball in my stomach dissipated as I skipped from a job interview back towards Atocha. The trees were bare, but the sky was the same bright blue that always welcomes me in Seville. As they say, de Madrid al cielo. Madrid was calling.

Sunshine and Siestas at the Feria de Abril

Sevilla, you’ve been more than good to me, giving me just about everything I’ve ever needed. You’re easy on the eyes, fiery and passionate, deeply sensual and surprising. You’ve shown me the Spain I always wanted to find, even between castles and tintos de Ribera del Duero and my first impression of Spain. You’ve reignited my love for culture, for making strangers my friends, for morning beers and for living in the moment. You changed me for the better.

And you will always be that second great love, te lo prometo. Triana will always be my home.

But you’ve just gotten too small. My dreams and ambitions are too big for your pueblo feel, as much as I’ve come to love it. Your aesthetic beauty continues to enchant me as I ride my bike past the cathedral at twilight or I leave extranjería and am not even mad that my least favorite place in Seville is also one of my favorites. Your manjares are no match for the sleek pubs and international food in Madrid, which I know I’ll grow tired of.

ceramics at Plaza de España Seville Spain

I admit that it was difficult to reach your core, to understand the way you are and learn to appreciate those nuances. At the beginning, it was all new and fun and boisterous, the out-loud way that you live each day, those directionless afternoons and long, raucous nights. Lunches that stretch into breakfast. Balmy evenings, Cruzcampo in hand. Festival after procession after traffic jam. Unforgettable sunsets. Unannounced rain showers. Biting cold and scalding heat. You are a city of extremes and mood swings, for sure, but you’re at your best that way. You are as passionate as they say you are.

Still, there were frustrations with the language, that lazy way that you “forget” letters and entire syllables. Frustrations with getting around and untangling the back alleys of your deepest barrios. Frustrations navigating the choque between our two cultures and figuring out a way to make it work for nearly a decade. There was a lot of give and take, that’s for sure.

my first feria de abril

And that’s not to say you haven’t changed for the better in these nine years together.

You’re more guiri-friendly, easier to get around and constantly coming up with ways to reinvent yourself without losing what makes you, . Even when I rolled by eyes at the Setas, I found the best views from its waffle-like towers. You always find a way to stay true to yourself, even if that means having to take the long way home when the streets are choked with a procession or if I call the Ayuntamiento and they send my call from office to office without ever getting through to an actual human.

But those same things that I once loved have become annoyances as we’ve gotten more comfortable with one another. Some of it is trivial, lo sé, but in the bigger scheme of things, we need time apart. Room to breathe, to try new things. I can’t get everything I need from you right now, Seville, y ya está. I know the decision was quick and may have its repercussions, but it’s what I have to do right now if we ever want a chance again.

Expat in Seville Cat Gaa

Madrid presents so many new possibilities. I scoffed at the idea of living there and opening myself up to loving it, but it will never be you. In fact, I think it will be like Valladolid, a tough nut to crack and one whose true character I may never know the way that I know you.

I’ll look for you in the bares de viejos, in a sevillano passing by wearing a Betis t-shirt, in the way that the Madrid gatos will laugh at my accent or look puzzled when I ask for a copistería or a cervecita. You’ll probably follow me around, to be honest. You were never one to let go lightly.

I love Seville Heart Necklace

This morning, as I drove over the San Telmo bridge towards Triana, the swallows returned. It was already a warm July morning, maybe even eleven years to the day since I first felt the breeze over the Guadalquivir. Eres un amor para toda la vida, Sevilla. Maybe in three or five years’ time, we’ll find ourselves back together, a bit more mature and ready for a new stage in our relationship. You’ll have changed, I have no doubt, and so will I.

But if the golondrinas are any indication, volveré. It’s the natural course.

Con todo mi cariño,

Cat

Wondering about my absence the past two months? I’ve been back and forth on the AVE, making trips to Madrid for job interviews, spending time alone with Sevilla and even squeezed in a ten-day trip to the US for my sister’s wedding. On July 3rd, 2016 – coincidentally the same day I applied for my visa for Spain in 2007 – the Novio and I officially moved to Madrid. I’ll start a job in a few weeks as an admissions counselor at a prestigious American university with a campus in the heart of La Capi. Adiós, teaching – never thought I’d see the day!!

No time for complatency

Will I like Madrid? I’m positive I will. Will I love it? Not in the same way that I love Seville, but the Novio and I have big plans for the next few years, and Seville was simply too small for our career ambitions. I’m not entirely sure how the scope of Sunshine and Siestas, a blog that has largely been about Andalucía, will change, but you can count on my voice coming through! 

I’m curious to hear your reactions to the news, which I’ve managed to keep surprisingly quiet! Not even sure I believe it myself!

When Living Abroad Starts Feeling Like Living in America

I could have easily been in a neighborhood pub back home in Chicago. Armed with two guiri friends and a stomach that hadn’t eaten all day, I ordered a cheeseburger meal, piled on the ketchup and sat down on a couch, directly under drapes of spider webs. It was Halloween, and one my friends mentioned that – gasp! – another American friend of ours had had trick-or-treaters the night before in her pueblo.

De verdad? Since when does the oh-so-racio Seville feel just like America?

When

Slowly, Americana has been permeating into a city as Spanish as the tortilla. At first, I embraced the introduction of peanut butter onto supermarket shelves (and willingly forked over 7€ for it) and made special trips to Madrid for international cuisine. Eight years on, I’m feeling like I’m in a parallel universe sometimes as craft beer, Netflix and my favorite holiday are becoming mainstream, albeit jabbered on about in Spanish.

I’ve long been the guiri who drags her heels when it comes to embracing my culture while living in another. I famously chastised my friends for shopping at the American food store and have yet to set foot in Costco. I do not regularly catch baseball or American football games in bars, nor could I tell you the best place to watch one. Yes, I cook Thanksgiving for my in-laws with American products and dress up for Halloween, but those moments were always reserved for special parties with my compatriots. What I love about living in Spain really boils down to the fact that I love living in Spain.

Cue the hate comments: I didn’t really sign up for an American life when I moved to Seville. And in all fairness, I’m letting it happen.

Spanish potato omelette

The line between life abroad and life as I knew it before 22 is blurrier than ever. I conduct a large part of my day in English, have English-speaking friends and watch TV in English. I just picked up a Spanish book for the first time in three years. I consume news in English via my smartphone and had to recently ask the Novio the name of the new mayor in town. 

I knew I needed to make a change when the Novio suggested we get Netflix as a wedding present to ourselves. Wait, you mean I can watch a show on a big screen with no need to let the show buffer for ten minutes? And in my native language? The fun of the TDT system, which allowed shows to be aired in their original language instead of dubbing. Ni de coña – I will binge watch my American television shows on my laptop. Wouldn’t that 8€ a month be better spent on something else?

While Spain is definitely not America when it comes to lines at the bank, reliable service or a way around 902 toll numbers, I find my adult life becoming more on par with that which my friends are living in the US. I got more than a fair dosage of Americanism this year, spending more than four months of fifteen in the US. Going home is a treat – Target, Portillo’s and endless hours of snuggling with our family dog – but it’s lost a lot of its sheen now that Seville has Americanized itself, be it for tourists or for sevillanos

But at what price? Gone are the decades-old ultramarinos that once peddled canned goods – they’ve made way for trendy bars and clothing chains. While I admit that the Setas – a harsh contrast from the turn-of-the-century buildings that ring Plaza de la Encarnación – have grown on me, they caused a lot of backlash and an entire neighborhood to address itself. Do I really need a fancy coffee bar to do work at, or a gym with the latest in training classes?

Reflections of Study Abroad in Spain

As my world becomes more globalized, I find myself seeking the Spain I fell in love with when I studied abroad in Valladolid and the Seville that existed in 2007. We’re talking pre-Crisis, pre-smartphones and pre-instagram filters, and one where a Frapuccino every now and then helped me combat my homesickness. The Spain that was challenging, new and often frustrating. The Spain in which I relished long siestas, late nights and a voracious desire to learn new slang and new rincones of a new place.

But… how do I get back there? The Sevilla I discovered at age 22 is barely recognizable. Do I love it? Do I deal with it? I mostly stick around Triana, which stills feels as barrio and as authentic as it did when I took up residence on Calle Numancia in 2007.

This sort of rant seems to be a November thing, when rain has me cooped up outside instead of indulging in day drinking and mentally preparing myself to de-feather and de-gut a turkey. Maybe I’m in a slump. Maybe I’m comfortable. Maybe I’m lazy. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Spain doesn’t present the same day-to-day victories as it once did. 

One thing I know for certain is that I’m looking forward to jumping back into the Spanish manera de ser once the Novio arrives back home this week. I can’t wait to head to San Nicolás, sans computer, and search for castañas, to sleep without an alarm and to remember why and how Spain became mi cosa.

Do you ever feel like you’re no longer living abroad? Any pointers to get me back on track?

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