Movin' on up

I am writing to you from 35,000 feet up as I fly back from Ungstein, having successfully completed the first stage of a relocation to yet another country. Our German home now sits empty. And as I type, two trucks, loaded down with all our earthly belongings, are en-route to Barcelona, Spain.

I’m physically and emotionally exhausted, but the week has only begun.

Thursday, I’ll again meet up with the movers to unload and unpack. I am very curious (and a little anxious) to see how they are able to squeeze my super-sized, American-made furniture into the European-sized penthouse of a 19th century building.

More than likely, the furniture will be hoisted up from the outside rather than carted up a winding, 5-story staircase. If this is the case, you can bet I’ll be doing more wincing than watching until the move is completed.

Stay tuned for photographs of the new place just as soon as we can make it picture perfect. Hopefully, with Max and I working morning and night, we’ll have it ready sooner rather than later.

The business of starting anew...

Over the last couple weeks, I've spent many hours walking the streets of Barcelona, not with an eye toward entertaining future visitors that have already reserved their spot at Hotel Mandy, but rather toward day-to day existence as I settle in to life in yet another new country. It's an almost laughable contrast-- to walk right past famous buildings of Gaudi's architecture and hardly blink, but almost break out into an all-out happy dance when I come across a store that carries Old El Paso Mexican products.

No. I'm not ashamed to admit this. When you've experience expatriation before, you understand that immediate priorities center around seeking that which makes you feel at home and comfortable over exploring the foreign surroundings. After all, there's plenty of time for touring once guests arrive (in four weeks).

Compared to the snail-like pace of my start in Germany, I have accomplished quite a bit in Spain. I've joined a gym, started salsa classes two times a week, gone to an expat-meet-up, and gotten on a first-name basis with some of the local business owners. I think I'm making good progress in establishing a home--which, for me, includes more than just a roof over my head.

This is not say the roof part isn't important. When Max and I visited our future apartment we were disappointed to discover almost no progress has been made on important building renovations. In fact, since we signed the contract in late January, the owners still have not acquired final permits for either the electrical or the elevator (and our apartment is on the top floor). Moreover, no work has been done on the private, roof-top terrace, which was a huge selling point for us. And even though we have verbal assurances we can move in by May 15th, I can't help but wonder if we don't have more bargaining power by holding out until we are completely satisfied.

Still, the inevitable relocation and logistical problems haven't put a damper on my mood. I can already tell I will enjoy this new life in Barcelona, which is complete with an elliptical machine, the makings for a decent burrito, and salsa dancing.

Really, could I ask for anything more?

Sunshine above my shoulders

Since January and especially after Max moved to Barcelona without me, I kept track of the Catalan weather through a customized, desktop widget. As I suffered through the grey, damp, German winter, my weather widget told me that Max was enjoy near spring-like conditions in Spain. Day in day out for nearly 90 days, I saw clouds, while Max soaked up the sun rays.

A good wife would be happy for her husband's fortune, but I was green with envy. It wasn't too long before I created another widget--a countdown until the move to Barcelona--which accompanied my weather tracker and gave me hope that I, too, would soon see the glowing orb which had eluded me through an especially harsh German winter.

As the countdown ticked down--5 days, 4 days, 3, 2, 1--you can imagine my excitement. Soon, so very soon, I would no longer need those Vitamin D supplements because I'd be soaking up fortified, solar rays.

Only now that I've moved, I haven't seen the sun. This week, Barcelona is having German-like weather including cool temperatures, clouds, and lots of rain.

Did I bring the German weather with me? Have I offended Mother Nature and didn't realize it?

What's a woman to do when she desperately needs a lift and the gloomy weather isn't providing one?

She creates her own sunshine by changing her hair style, trading tired, old blonde highlights in for an even lighter, brighter, all-over, blond hair color.

What do you think?




(PS. No comments about my purple and green pajamas, please!)

Last post from Germany!

My favorite things

Aside from spending time with Max, here is what I enjoyed most during my 5-day stay in Barcelona:

1. Meeting fellow blogger, Oreneta, and the unexpected (but very much appreciated) tour of the city
2. Fresh seafood 4 out of 5 nights
3. Walking through a mall (we don't have any near where I lived in Germany, and I actually missed the experience of it)
4. Finding In Style, Vogue, and Glamour in English at a nearby magazine stand
5. The energy and nightlife of Barcelona. Restaurants don’t even open till 8pm and most folks head for dinner after 10pm.
6. Siestas (see number 5)
7. Eating snails for the first time and discovering they weren't half bad
8. The experience of trying out for a salsa class
9. Walking around our new neighborhood and experiencing the feeling of confidence that we made the right housing choice
10. Max's new company car
11. Learning that Wifi is pronounced "wee fee" in Spain
12. Window shopping on Paseo de Gracia (sure to turn into actual shopping once I drop this stubborn 5 kilos)
13. Crema de Catalan (yummy)
14. Sunny, warm weather
15. That I get to return in 13 short days!!!

Virtual Tour: Our Temporary Digs

Our temporary couch



Our temporary TV



Our temporary bathroom



Two temporary twin beds we pushed together so as not to live like Lucy and Ricky



Temporary kitchen-laundry combo. We also have three wine glasses, 3 forks, 3 spoons and knives, 1 frying pan, 3 pots, a wine opener (very important), two cutting boards, a handful of dishes, and a partridge in a pear tree (o.k., not really the last one).

That is all, folks. Small, clean, comfortable. I'm certainly NOT complaining.

"It's complicated"

Perhaps it's a side effect of all the Vitamin D that I am soaking up through glorious Spanish sun exposure, but I actually have the urge to write.

All is well in Barcelona. I am enjoying a semblance of normal life as part of a couple again--waking up next to someone other than Charlie, preparing a real dinner as opposed to microwaving a Weight Watchers entree, and snuggling on the couch with my favorite fellow while watching a movie downloaded through iTunes. But I'm not only here to keep the home fires burning. There is actually a purpose to my brief Catalan adventure.

I had to be fingerprinted.

I sort of wish I had a tawdry tale to go along with with act of being escorted down to the police station and having all 10 fingers literally blacked with ink, because the worst thing I've ever done in all my life was to skip school one time with my mother's full knowledge and permission.

But sad to say, my time visiting the slammer, sitting in the waiting area with unsavory characters, and being escorted into a small CSI-like laboratory was for "official government purposes" only. It's part of what Max and I both have to do in order to get our visas to live in Spain permanently. Don't ask me why.

Getting through the maze of governmental requirements and documentation would be impossible without the help of a skilled professional. And after months and months of waiting, Max and I finally met with Alvero, a third-party contractor assigned to help us get moved permanently.

We had hoped Alvero might be able to shed light on what paperwork would need to be completed and, more importantly, how long the process would take, but this was not to be. With every question we posed, our skilled professional had only one response:

"It's complicated," he said.

It sure is. In addition to being finger printed, we also had to sign documents in the presence of a notary giving our permissions to have FBI background checks completed. While I attempted to sign the permissions with my best, most readable, John Hancock, I couldn't help but wonder if the time I skipped school would possibly show up on my profile.

This is not unfounded paranoia. I feel as though the slightest problem could cause a delay in this already painfully slow process. For instance, my name changes because of marriage and divorce have generated extra paperwork. And even though I've provided copies of expired passports, which document my series of failed marriages and ever-evolving name, I've been told that the U.S. consulate will be called to verify that name changes can and do happen because of marriage and divorce. This call, alone, will probably set us back a week or two--at least that is what it feels like.

But for now, I'll try not to worry about what is or is not happening and how long it will take before Max and I can truly get on to the business of life as normal. I'm here, enjoying time with my husband, and cooking a little fresh cod for dinner this evening.

It's better than nothing.

Present!

I'm re-emerging in the blog world after an unscheduled hiatus last week. Nothing earth shattering kept me away. Rather, Iife has been a little hectic here at the Mandy pad. Between getting Max moved to Barcelona (as of yesterday) and my never-ending Spanish lessons, I've had little time for much of anything.

Doesn't sound like much fun, does it?

I can hardly believe I only have 26 days (not that I am counting) left in Germany. Bear with me, folks. I'm a little overwhelmed and not sure how long before I'll be in a business-as-usual routine.

I've come a long way, Schatzi

Have you ever noticed, after weeks of dissatisfaction, how unusually good your hair looks the morning before an appointment with the stylist?

With one month and seven days left, I'm having a similar experience when it comes to life in Germany. Despite the cold, winter grayness, my ineptitude when it comes to the language, disdain for anything pork, and the fact that Max was gone 24 out of 30 days last month, I'm having some of the easiest and most memorable times in all my 13 months in this country. Aside from occasional communication difficulties, day-to-day living is relatively comfortable and, sometimes, even a little exciting.

After months and months of living like a shadow of the person I once was, today I prosper.

Don't get me wrong. Living in a foreign place is never easy when compared to being in your home country. But after the initial culture shock wears off and acceptance begins, a person can start to feel "at home" in a foreign country. I am happy I reached this state of mind before leaving Germany.

I also am starting to realize a few of the things I'll miss most once I leave -- taking Charlie on long walks through the vineyards, Tchibo (a unique coffee shop/ houseware and clothing store), Flammkuchen, castle ruins along almost every hillside, and, of course, the new friends I've come know and enjoy over the last several months.

Even though I am determined to look forward to the new experiences and change in scenery that await me and Max in Barcelona, I am also in the mindset to savor every minute of the time I have left here.

Because there are some things you don't want to pantomime

March 28, 2009 marks the first day of a new beginning and new adventure. On this date, I move to Barcelona, Spain, joining my husband who will be relocating a few weeks earlier.

Yes. I am so excited, I can hardly stand myself.

Because we won't be able to move belongings into our permanent residence until May, Max spent yesterday looking for a temporary apartment and found one only a block from where we will be living. This makes me even happier because it gives me early opportunity to get to know "the hood" a little better. First on the agenda? Finding a veterinarian, kennel, and dog groomer because Charlie is one, high-maintenance pupster. Second, locating a hair dresser, nail salon, and a place for waxing because momma is also a tad high maintenance. As far as the rest-- like knowing where to buy groceries-- this can happen, when it happens. Depilation first; eating second. A motto worthy of inscription, no?

Because of these needs, important topics such as waxing and pet grooming come up often during Spanish classes. I've learned from my mistakes of expatriation in Germany by focusing on only the really useful vocabulary first.

"How would you ask for a bikini waxing?" I asked.

My teacher, a native Spanish speaker from Peru, laughs at my questions, but also understands my needs. And, I was pleasantly surprised to learn many important words are the same or similar in Spanish. For those words that are not English conjugates, I have started making flash cards and am drilling them into my brain. I've only got 6 weeks left and there is so much to learn!

If you were moving to a foreign country, what would you want to learn how to ask for first?

Patience is a virtue, right?

Max and I returned to Germany without a clear idea of where we might be living once we move to Barcelona. Negotiations on *the apartment* continue, partly because of the southern European sense of time--where no one seems to be in a real rush to close a deal-- and partly because of a 12th-hour revelation that the owner doesn't want to rent to a couple with pets. And since bringing Charlie to Spain is not negotiable, my desire to actually live there has been reduced to a philisophical "if living in this apartment is meant to be, it's meant to be." If not, Max and I have decided to continue searching rather than settle on something we don't absolutely love. We've got time to be picky--while Max has started his job, he won't be able to officially work in Spain until May at the earliest.

You ask: How does Max work as the company's manager of southern Europe without actually living in that part of the continent? Travel, travel, travel. This week, he is in Athens. Next week, it's Italy. The week after, my husband will return to Barcelona. Needless to say, his travel schedule is interferring with our family life. We only have all or part of the weekends together and, quite frankly, it isn't enough.

Still, I need to force a smile on my face and exercise patience. In the long run, Max's career move will be good for us even though, in the short term, it's a pain in the ass. Can you tell patience isn't one of my strong points?

The beat goes on

The task of finding a new home continues in Barcelona. Max and I have looked at numerous flats through out the city as we continue to try to negotiate the one apartment, which captured our fancy at the beginning of the week. The owner is insisting on two things: the company's name on the lease and a 24 month guarantee--much more than the law requires. I suppose in the climate of economic downturn, the proprietor is looking security, but I am not sure Max's company will agree to to terms. We shall see.

For this reason, I have settled on a second and third choice. One is a more typical example of a Barcelona apartment with interesting old, architectural details. It's only downside is the kitchen, which looks to be at least 7 years old. Here in Spain, a renter must pay attention to these sorts of things. My understanding is that if something breaks down (including appliances), it is the renter's responsibility to fix it. And, I am not inclined to buy a new oven for the owner if something goes wrong.

So there you have it. We return to Germany on Saturday, with or without a new place to call home. Still, after the week I'm having, I'm looking forward to going back to a home at all.

PS. I'm returning to my top housing choices today for one final look-and-see. I'm bringing my camera with me, so stay tuned for a few pictures tomorrow.

When you just know

I experienced something wonderful today--an instantaneous and overwhelming feeling of certainty. After visiting only two prospective homes this morning, I walked into an apartment and instantly knew it was *the one.*

It's perfect--a large and luminous dwelling with with top-of-the-line appliances, views of historic sights, and desirable neighbors including Escada, Hugo Boss, and Louis Vuitton.

And the best part is that Max felt its perfection, too. In fact, we've asked our agent to meet with the owner and iron out final details.

Wow.

Could we have really found our future home in only an afternoon?

The only hiccup might possibly be timing. Max learned it will take at least three months before he can get his work permit. Three months!!! I'm concerned the owner will not be willing to wait for us. So keep your fingers (and toes) crossed, won't ya?

New direction?

Maybe it's because of the recent drama, but I'm beginning to crave change, perhaps a new direction in my life and lifestyle. The last 12 months in Germany have been a wonderful holiday. I've lived a slow-paced, leisurely existence, which was free from hustle, bustle, and any real commitments aside from feeding my pets and keeping a straight and humble abode.

It's been nice, but not necessarily good for me. I think I've become lazy, accustomed to doing what I want, whenever I want. I've let myself go a little because there hasn't been any real reason to...let' s say... get that regular manicure and pedicure. Most days, I don't see anyone except Charlie and Max, and they seem pretty ok with me sans the frills. And since I've been trying to get pregnant the last year, dieting hasn't been a viable option. Besides, someone told me at carrying a little extra weight was not bad, because estrogen is stored in fat cells.

Oh! Excuses, excuses...

Fortuntately, I need not look too far ahead to find the change I crave. Our move to Barcelona is only a couple months away. I could use this opportunity to shake things up in my life.

My first consideration is where Max and I might live. Do we look for housing outside or within the city limits? When I was pregnant, I felt impelled to look for a house with a garden in a neighboring town, not unlike where I live today. But I find when I live remotely, I don't make the effort to get out, explore, socialize, and do what I should to stimulate myself. And so, I am now contemplating life in the big, crowded, noisy city, where I must force myself to get dressed, get out, if only to walk Charlie to the elusive grass patch.

Is any of this making sense? I guess what I am wondering is whether I should listen to these urges and go for the life that I want today or do I continue to hold back a little and make decisions based on the life I hope to be living (complete with a baby and a white picket fence) someday?

One very slow day at a time

I'm feeling a tad perturbed at my husband's employer today. We've known about his promotion and our move to Barcelona for three weeks now, but we still don't know about the benefits package details or even what Max's new salary might be. You heard me right. Max had to accept a job without really knowing if the compensation made the change and aggravation worth our while.

In some ways, benefits and salary don't matter. The notation on his resume and the wealth of experience he will gain cannot be valued. This is a good career move for Max. And, what is good for him is good for us. Still, we are suppose to be relocating to a different country in short two and a half months (3 weeks of which we will be away for the holidays). Yet, human resources hasn't even scheduled our house-hunting trip or given us any idea whether we will get a housing allowance. Max had to hand in our lease termination here in Germany without knowing what our new address will be. Moreover, I can't begin to start deciding what to pack and what store without having an idea of where we will land.

Basically, our life is in limbo. And frankly, I don't like the feeling. All Max and I can do is wait--for calls and letters from the company or for my next prenatal visit--to get a glimmer of insight into our immediate future. I find the time in between, void of any new information, absolutely suffocating.

Living life one day at a time--it's easier said than done. Any advice on how I might make this phase in my life a little less difficult?

My exciting news in pictures