Living in Spain, vol. 1 – Martin Lang
When I think back to the events of the last year that ultimately led me to moving to Spain to start a brand-new chapter of my life, I often cannot believe my luck. A year ago, I was pretty much settled and ready to stay in Brno.
Work, friends, colleagues, family no more than a 2-hour train ride away (which is in my opinion and ideal distance, as it is not too far away and at the same time, it justifies you not visiting your relatives every week), … all was there. However, I did, more than anything else, enjoy spontaneous trips abroad, usually caused by an error fare/promo flight ticket. Whether it was a week in my all-time-favourite Taiwan or 4 days in New York (both these, and more, trips will be documented in these blogs later), I have always felt giddy when was about to voyage on an unexpected journey. Flight ticket to Barcelona was no different, or so I thought.
Despite my introverted nature, I do make friends along my travels, believe it or not. I knew that there was an acquaintance of mine from Spain, with whom I met in India several years ago (yes, I will write about my adventures in India as well), so I thought I will call her up, see if she by any chance lives remotely near Barcelona. Well, she did, we met and long story short, I have stayed in Spain together with her. Of course, thinks were more complex than that, but one thing was amazingly simple and clear – we fell in love. Now I sit here in a small town of no more than 2,000 people and whenever I look out of the window, I see the view and I am constantly reminded of how lucky I am to be here with her.
Old Times in Spain
These picturesque towns make me feel cosy, comfortable, and at peace. “Peacefulness” would be the most important word for me to describe this region. I’m sure you must have come across stories about super old people from remote parts of the world – a 115-year-old lady from Greece, who has been making traditional family olive oil recipe for 85 years … or for example, an old fishermen, living in the tranquil coastline of Philippines, who is 99 years old and still out there fishing … or perhaps the only surviving member of an indigenous tribe in Peru, who has been making tribal tattoos for 76 years and is 112-years-old herself.
When I wonder this region and I walk the streets of these beautiful small towns, I suddenly understand why these people reach such an admirable age and why they appreciate their life so much. All these people were born, lived, and aged in the same place. They have never seen the rest of the world, they have never tried any other work, they have never tried any other lifestyle, and they could not give a flying fuck – they are satisfied, they live in a moment, they have everything they need.
It reminds me of an alternative life I’ve always secretly wished I had … living in a small town of 400 people next to the river, next to the mountains, having a simple daily routine of peeling potatoes or something for 85 years, and being genuinely happy and satisfied with what I’ve got. Well, perhaps here we can grow old and do just that. I feel like this would be a perfect place to stop being so restless all the time, to stop reaching out for new opportunities, experiences, and goals just because the thought of stopping scares me. Or perhaps I have already been programmed to be restless and there is no slowing, no salvation. In any case, the idea seems divine and I love it here, whether I want to slow down or not. Imma stay!