I realized today that I am living so much in my very own head, in my very own apartment, in my very own little life that I sometimes forget I live in Spain. In my world it is America, with all the inconveniences of Spanish life. I speak English with Esther most of the day, I cook from American cookbooks and cooking blogs, read the New York Times, listen to NPR . . . At the same time I can´t go to the grocery store from 2 to 5pm which is my prime time (between Esther´s naps and before her bedtime). Sunday most things are closed so that is one less day to run errands, Ivan works from 8am to 2pm then back to work from 4pm to 8.
That said, today when I was out for an afternoon walk with Esther I remembered what it was like to be in Spain when I first came in 1996. I loved just closing my eyes and listening to people´s conversations. I loved the cadence of the Spanish, the inflection in their voices, the topics of conversations. It felt like an adventure, a vacation. I am going to work on getting back to that place.