Tag: Moving to Valencia

What if we ever needed…3/4 of an Inch

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Hell froze over today. Well, since it’s so bloody hot and humid I sort of wish it actually did, but our stuff ARRIVED at 1pm today. It actually came with a phone call and three guys who could not have been nicer. I paid for their lunch afterwards. I’m not a person who has ever held a grudge. Don’t have time for it so all that nonsense was in my rear view mirror 30 seconds after the first dolly load crossed our door step.

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They found parking and unloaded in record time. As planned, we had them bring all the boxes and bikes up to our apartment and we put the sofa in our parking space in the garage. We needed to measure it before I schedule the crane service. I was on cloud nine watching them go back and forth. Emilie stayed down by the truck to make sure no one made off with any boxes while the guys were filling the lobby.

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Seeing our things again was like reconnecting with old friends. And unpacking was so much fun!  All my kitchen stuff that was of such interest to US Customs and Border control made it with only one glass pot lid that was shattered.  All my Le Creuset – check. More of my Crate and Barrel dishes – yup. All our flatware and my box of odds and ends kitchen stuff. My beloved Vitamix made it. Jeff checked the amperage (I don’t even pretend to understand it) and it works on the electricity here. We just have to take it to a local place to get the plug/cord swapped out.

My pans are here too! And our golf clubs and bikes. Jeff’s computer stuff and his keyboard that he’s been waiting for. All the tools for his first love – the motorcycle. We spent the day unpacking boxes and washing things. Our bedding from home – sheets and towels that we could have bought locally but we loved them too much to leave behind. Then there were the more sentimental things. The things that, when you surround yourself with them, make you feel like you’re truly home.

Our refrigerator magnet collection from trips we took as a family. Jeff always hated how junky it made it look in an open plan kitchen. I loved the reminder of all the things we did together. Tonight, I put them all on the fridge and he came home and smiled. Emilie and I had fun reminiscing about each one and telling funny stories about where they were purchased and some crazy thing that happened.

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The pictures came. Our wedding photo and some of the art that we had on the walls. Emilie unpacked the boxes in her room and it’s just about like it was in the US – only 5 times smaller. Her books, photos and all the small things that mean so much to her.

I unpacked the vacuum packed bags of our clothes and it seems we brought more than I remembered. I appears my ‘What if we ever…?’ philosophy might have gone a little too far. OK, if we ever go to Iceland again I have my Canada Goose parka and Jeff’s Mountain Hardwear parka. But living here I don’t think there will be a day that we’ll need either of those.

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My most egregious and embarrassing miscalculation was my discovery that I had 5 full boxes of shoes that were just for me. Luckily, Jeff had run an errand when I pulled them out of the pile in the dining room. Yeah, I knew I had a problem anyway but today it was in my face and before Jeff got home I needed to find somewhere for 5 boxes of shoes in El Compartimiento. But where to put them? The only place I had to spare was in the kitchen Gabinete and I knew the minute he got hungry I’d be ratted out. Emilie just shook her head but she wasn’t one to talk. She had 2 boxes of shoes for herself – OK, I’m a baaad influence.

So I started pulling out drawers and cabinets. I was sweating and panicked. What the hell was I going to do? I looked around and then I remembered we have drawers under the bed we bought. And those drawers are mostly covered by the duvet. I knew Jeff was barely using his closet so he wouldn’t even think about the drawers under the bed. Sure enough, they were empty. But as I placed my shoes, boots and sandals lovingly into their new, hidden home, I started counting and, well, I’m just ridiculous. Who needs 5 pairs of high suede boots here? I brought 3 pairs of rubber boots!  What was I thinking?

But that isn’t the capper. Tonight we went down to the garage after I was done unpacking the rest of the stuff and putting it away. I was feeling pretty proud of myself and my ability to cram things in every nook and hidden crannies. Organizing things for easy access later. Winter closet, stored. Yup, I was at the top of my organizational game. I hadn’t over packed afterall. I was a ‘just enough’ goddess.

I got into the elevator with a confident smug swagger that only a truly organized person pull off. Then we measured.

My beloved couch is 43 3/4 inches deep. I don’t care about the height because it passed that test. Our living room window is broken up into sections that are 43 inches. Not 44 inches – 43. And they can’t get any bigger, even if you take the windows out, because of the custom shutters that come down in tracks. So my couch won’t fit. So we went down and took all the wrapping from the move off and I actually talked to the couch.

‘Please couch – I know you’ve been through alot in the last 5 months but I need 3/4 of an inch – that’s all. Please give me 3/4 of an inch.’ I begged and pleaded.

Jeff measured again. I don’t think the couch was very forgiving after spending months in a container ship. It didn’t give up a millimeter. There will be no couch (at least not one from the US) inside El Compartimiento. With every victory, there is also defeat. I had gotten a little cocky with the shoes.

Tonight, Jeff is sporting his Keens, he’s smiling in a fresh pair of shorts and a shirt he hasn’t worn since February. That’s good enough for me.

It Really is That Special

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Every day  it seems we love living in Valencia more. The weather, the people, the scenery. And, lets face it, the cost of living doesn’t hurt. But the biggest things we love is the people. Everyone is so nice. I’m not sure how that is possible, but people help us with everything, every day. They volunteer to show us where to go and give us advise on how to navigate. Today was just another example.

So I went to my Dr. appointment with the specialist this evening. A night time clinic that had a lot of people in the waiting room for our particular office. The building was clean, lined with marble and laid out efficiently. We got there a bit early and I went right through the door, only to find out that you don’t do that. I sheepishly tip-toed back out red faced. The people in the chairs in the hall giggled, but we were laughing together.  Even though the Doctor’s name is on the door in the hallway, you wait in the hallway and they call you. I learned this from a couple of women who took pity on me.

After about 20 minutes, a guy in jeans came out and took a patient back. Then he came out and took me back. He’s a specialist but he was dressed casually and he swiftly determined that I needed a surgeon in his specialty, not him. OK, here goes – I thought. More delays and I’ll have to wait forever to get into see that guy. It will be another month.

Nope. He took me out of his office – Jeff was looking at us as we whizzed by and quickly followed – and marched me down the hall. The Dr had made a phone call when I was sitting at his desk and he was taking us to the surgeon. Right then. At 7 pm. The nurse for the surgeon apologized that I would need to wait for him to finish with another patient. Jeff and I looked at each other like ‘She’s kidding, right?’ She was apologizing to us – a medical professional was saying that she was sorry we had to wait. This was my first experience with this in my entire life.

She called me back into the office and I explained my situation – the other specialist had given her some of the run down – and I gave her all the things I had printed out and the questions I had. She was patient and talked through everything. She asked why I hadn’t gone to the other hospital that my original Dr. had recommended and written on the referral, and I explained that I had called the insurance company and they had sent me to this location.

‘No. They are wrong. I will help you deal with them. But you will have surgery and tests at the other hospital.’

I was confused why she was so insistent and said so.

‘It’s new and the rooms are like a hotel. You will like it there much better.’ She advised.

Well, I decided on the spot I will be doing whatever she says going forward. Finally, the Dr. was ready to see me. He was efficient and assuaged my fears. He had a certificate on the wall from NYU and is certified by the NY board of surgeons. This shouldn’t really matter to me, but it did. And the certificate next to it said he was head of surgery in his specialty at the hospital we were in.

When I left, they had all the paperwork I needed ready for me and she gave me the Dr’s card and she wrote her info on the back.

‘If you need anything, you call me. I can make phone calls for you and help answer questions. Even if it’s not about medical things.’ She smiled.

She was so nice, I had been so stressed about this appointment I teared up. She patted my shoulder and led me out. Jeff met me and I explained what had gone on as we walked home on the river.

‘You look a lot better. Happier.’ he said, after I told him everything. ‘I knew this morning you were stressed when we were at El Corte Ingles and you had no interest in shopping. You never have no interest in shopping. It made me worried.’

‘I was scared but, I don’t know how much better that all could have gone tonight. I’ve heard horror stories, when we were in the US, about health care in other countries. I mean our experience in Italy wasn’t that good. But this was first rate. They were actually kind. I wasn’t just a number. They each talked to me – like I was a person and they didn’t just try to throw prescriptions at me or see how quickly they could get me out of there. No one looked at their watch, like my 15 min appointment was up.  That surgeon saw me with no notice and I got right in.’

We were both so amazed we were in shock. Our last few years in the US regarding health care and insurance were terrible. Jeff’s motorcycle accident came with so many bills and co-pays and deductibles. I had to fight the insurance company to pay the helicopter bill. Once he was out of the trauma unit and into a regular room, they gave him Tylenol (like the kind you buy in the grocery store) and they charged $250 for two tablets. Insurance wouldn’t pay the $1800 bill to take him in an ambulance from the roof of the hospital, where the helicopter landed, to the entrance of the Emergency room. Maybe 200 meters.  And once they released him from the hospital, it took weeks to get follow up appointments with specialists and the like, and he had nearly died. Shameful.

Today, it took me minutes to see specialists. And no one blinked an eye. Medical systems can work. Who knew? I think I’m now in good hands and my blood pressure is about half of what it was this morning. I know we have moved to the right place for us and I think we will call this place home for a long time to come.

Online At Last!

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Hola World! Remember us? Yes, we have INTERNET!!  At long last, after limping along on our T-mobile phones with crappy international service, we are online. And we have super fast fiber so we’re beating everyone on the internet, while surfing all our social sites and what not.

Shopping online will actually render photos of things we want to purchase. And looking up restaurants or viewing potential things to do in Valencia? Well, we are all over it now. No DSL sharing for us. No sir. We’re on a dedicated line that is all our own at 150mb.

Was it easy to get? NOOOO! Linda, our personal assistant/savior, had tried for weeks before we got here to get it set up. She did research and then reached out to Vodophone/Ono to get it ready for our arrival. But they wouldn’t do it without our NIE #. And after we got that, they wouldn’t do it until we got our Town Hall registry. And after that, they wouldn’t do it until we got our immigration registration. And after that they weren’t sure if they could do it until we got the actual card in 3 weeks.

Linda sent me this funny video that so accurately depicts what we’ve been through over the last 6 months – including setting up internet service – that I had to include the link here. I just wish the girl in the video had a mic to drop.

https://movingtovalencia.lbiz.es/this-is-spain/

About now you’re saying to yourself, ‘That’s crazy! Its just Internet.’ And you’d be correct. It is crazy. And it is just internet. But everything in Spain takes a lot of paperwork and patience. Finally, Linda and I just went to a local Mall and stood in line for the Vodophone store. The guy that helped us was nice but again – click, click, click and head shaking, eyeing me with a squint, and then head down for more typing. It starts to make you paranoid. You wonder what information they’re looking at? Can they see your medical records? School transcripts? Should I start trying to explain that lost weekend in college?

Finally, he says we’re approved – and we even get a home phone and 3 SIM cards. All for 66 euros per month. Yes, you heard that right. Internet (150 mb fiber), three SIM cards and a home phone for 66 euros per month. It’s like free.

The guy came today and installed it. We’re set up and ready to go. Netflix and I are going to be spending a lovely evening together and I think I’ll go out and buy myself a nice bottle of something red from Rioja. I have no couch yet, but I can lay in bed and drink and watch something. Just like a lost weekend in college.