Marta here. Let’s get straight to it: living in Spain is basically like taking your brain, your schedule, and your deeply British sense of “being on time,” and chucking them straight into the sea.
And we kind of love it.
The Siesta Situation
Bryan still doesn’t get it. He stares at the closed shops at 2pm like they personally betrayed him.
“But it’s the middle of the day, Marta.”
“Exactly. It’s hot. Everyone’s sleeping or eating or sitting very still, Bryan.”
He checks his watch. As if that’ll help.
In Ashburton, lunch is something you shovel down while sending emails. Here, lunch is three courses, a glass of wine, and the very real possibility you might need a nap after. It’s glorious. My digestion’s never been happier. Bryan’s still adjusting.
The Timing Black Hole
Dinner at 6pm? Hilarious. Restaurants don’t even think about opening until 8. If you turn up at 7:30, they look at you like you’re lost. We’ve seen toddlers out at 11pm, happily demolishing plates of grilled sardines while Luke tries not to fall asleep into his Fanta.
The Neighbours
Ashburton: polite nod over the hedge. Maybe a brief weather chat.
Denia: multiple unsolicited invitations to eat, drink, and have loud, fast conversations I understand 80% of.
The neighbour two doors down delivered us a homemade paella on a random Tuesday. When I tried to return the favour with a lemon drizzle cake, she looked both confused and slightly concerned. Bryan now refers to her as “The Paella Fairy.”
Bureaucracy: The Ultimate Test
In England: Forms. Online portals. Confirmation emails.
In Spain: Paper. Many papers. Then different papers you didn’t know you needed. And one man in an office who only works Tuesdays between 10:17 and 11:03.
Bryan approached Spanish admin like he approaches IKEA furniture. Confident. Determined. Within an hour he was staring at a pile of contradictory documents muttering, “This is… fine.”
Luke’s Bedtime Crisis
Luke’s still recovering.
“Mum, how is it bedtime if we’re still at dinner?”
“Welcome to Spain, sweetheart.”
He’s trying. He naps now. I’m both proud and slightly concerned.
Anna’s Anthropological Study
Anna, meanwhile, has fully assimilated. She refers to England as “The Cold Place” now. She’s made friends, mastered Valenciano greetings, and insists that British bread is “objectively inferior.”
Her camera roll is 80% market stalls, tiled doorways, and aesthetically arranged seafood.
The Verdict
Is it better? Worse? Neither. Just… different. Spain has a rhythm. You either fight it or fall into step. And honestly? Fighting it feels exhausting.
Casa Amada was never just about the house. It’s about this. The weird, wobbly, wonderful recalibration of how we live. Slower, messier, occasionally baffling. But every time Bryan checks his watch at 2pm, I know we’re doing it right.
Next post: Bryan tries to navigate a local festival. Spoiler: chaos is coming.