Open Google Maps, type in “Valencia, Spain" and zoom in to the little red marker in the center of the city. If you move up and to the left, slightly, you may see Torres de Quart, The Central Market of Valencia or the Catedral de Valencia. Well, that’s us, right smack in the middle of these historic landmarks. In the middle of Centro Historico, on the southern edge of El Carmen, one of the oldest, and liveliest (as we’ve come to find) areas of the city. Yep, this is our new home. After two months desperately navigating Spanish rental websites, pushing through a dazzling array of Mediterranean bureaucracy, staying in four different AirBnB’s, having three surefire opportunities disappear out of thin air, and a negotiation process which consisted of a 3 hour Spanglish back and forth over beer and espresso, we FINALLY found a home. For the first time in almost a year and a half, we have a place to live that’s ours. And with a flat in the middle of a 2,100 year old city in Spain, comes some unique situations. Built in 1840, the building we’ve just recently moved into is almost as old as the country we recently left. Our new street, Calle Rey Don Jaime, runs perpendicular to Calle de la Conquista. Both are short, narrow and seemingly insignificant. But as we’ve learned, these street names are anything but. Rey Don Jaime (translation: King James) conquered (hence, Calle de la Conquista) the Moors in the early 13th century, officially creating the Kingdom of Valencia (so, basically, there’s some history here). We enter our new (old) building through 15 foot doors, walk past the Porteria, past a pulley-operated basket for transporting heavy groceries to the third floor, and up tiled stairs which are as Spanish as any we’ve seen since our arrival. The apartment itself is an experiment of old, new, weird, and purely awesome. There are wood beams throughout the living room and hallway, terra cotta tiled floors, 8 foot glass doors in the foyer that open into the inside of the building, and a kitchen which looks onto a small terrace and ancient walled-in monastery garden. The washing machine is in the kitchen, which has no oven (we bought a giant table top - sobre mesa - toaster oven). And yes, the bathroom does have a bidet, which we weren't entirely sure what to do with for the first 10 days. We get it now. We’ve tried putting a few small nails in the walls to hang photos and prints, but failed miserably, because, well, they’re two feet of pure 19th century stone. The flat was rented partially furnished, a 6-hour adventure to IKEA in a rented van has allowed us to mix in some modern furniture with the existing antiques. Since we’re on the first floor (second, by U.S. standards) the balconies off both our bedroom and the guest bedroom have steel security bars to protect from any overly curious or overly intoxicated passersby. While not ideal, they serve as a perfect place to put plants, which we’re collecting at a rapid pace. All in all, it’s a wonderful, strange, and beautifully different place. Inside our new apartment, we feel at home for the first time in months. Step outside and we have any number of incredible new things to explore within just a few minutes walk. Restaurants, bars, markets, cathedrals, museums and parks are all at our doorstep.
Finally, a home. All of this may be just what we've been searching for.
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I never, in a million years, thought I would be buying a wedding dress in Spain. That being said, just a few years ago, I never thought I would be this happy, this in love, and this inspired. So here, standing on a little black box in the middle of a pink marble dressing room, wearing 15 pounds of white silk and a 5 foot diameter skirt, it’s impossible not to smile and reflect on how incredible life can be. I’m also smiling because I look ridiculous. It’s a very similar style to the little girls we’ve seen dressed in white, poofy communion dresses, waddling behind their moms on the way to church on Sunday. Read: an oversized cupcake. With puffy princess sleeves and a floor-length veil. But, having no way to communicate rather than miming “something tighter” (not the easiest charades move), I try on three similar giant dresses, each one slightly more hilarious than the last. Let’s just say the experience of buying a wedding dress in Espana has been… interesting. After making an appointment through email (with the help of Google translate), I’m greeted by two women in their 60’s - one stout and round with a tall bun of brown hair; the other with bright orange curls and pink lipstick that goes well beyond her lips. They sit me in front of a book of dresses that I awkwardly thumb through, before getting fed up and saying very loudly “cuánto dinero tiene usted.” I’m in the process of (slowly) learning Spanish, but after traveling through Latin America, I’m quite familiar with the words “cuanto” and “dinero.” I write my budget on a paper and, with a shrug say “mas o menos,” “more or less,” one of my favorite Spanish expressions. Their reaction is clearly not positive. Evidently these giant cupcake dresses cost serious coin. After two minutes of loud banter (assuming about my sub-par budget) the two disappear and come back with four dresses. I’m steered into the pink marble dressing room, which has mirrors on all four sides, and handed a pair of scary tall (5 inch +) sparkly shoes and a floor-length half slip with three tiers of lace. I put on the slip and wait for the first dress, feeling like I could fall out of the tall shoes and off the black box at any minute. Both women come in, and one motions for me to bend my knees and put my hands above my head. Feeling like I’m acting out a summer camp song wearing nothing but a bra and lace floor-length slip, I mirror her and stretch my arms up. A minute later, I’m miraculously dressed. It’s impressive - one women slips the dress over my head, the other reaches under the skirt and tugs down the layers of silk. The first pulls at the back and pins the straps and the other pulls my hair, twists it into a bun, and sticks a veil on top. Assuming this is simply how it’s done here, I decide to let go and submit to the two Spanish shopkeepers manhandling me through three more dresses. After each dress, I’m asked “esta, o otra esta?” and by the end, I have evidently chosen my wedding dress through a quick process of elimination. The final dress (which I don’t care for in the least) hangs outside as I get dressed. When I walk out, one of the women writes the price ($100 euro above my budget) on a business card, and places her hand on my back as she walks me toward the door. She literally opens the shop door, steps outside with me, and waves goodbye. The whole process takes less than half an hour. Walking home, I can’t help but think about that TLC show, “Say Yes to the Dress.” I’m having fantasies of my girlfriends and sister sitting among gorgeous white gowns, sipping champagne and gabbing in English as the friendly shop owner chooses dresses that are actually my style. But, like everything right now, this is a new (and somewhat hilarious) experience that I’m happy to have had.
A few days later, I try again, visiting the store of well-known Spanish fashion designer, Rosa Clara. Some aspects are similar (my budget is too small, I put on the slip thingy and the towering rhinestone heels and am dressed by two women) but the overall experience is much more posh and friendly. The dresses are beautiful and, after two more shops and a few days of deliberation, I end up moving forward with a non-poofy dress that is absolutely stunning. Now, with four months before the wedding (yes, I (now) know this is late to buy a dress), I just need to find shoes with a shorter heel and less glitter. Should be easy enough… right? It's the final countdown. This Sunday night, we’ll drive to SFO, coincidentally where our relationship began, to embark on another new beginning. We’ll strap on our trusty backpacks, to which we’re weirdly attached after visiting 21 countries together, and drag our three giant suitcases to the counter, praying each weighs less than 50 pounds. Right now, as we write this, the fact that we’re moving to Spain in just a few days is finally sinking in. But we’re ready. Well, sort of. Those of you who've traveled can relate… when we first returned from 8 months on the road, everything about home was exciting. Catching up with family and friends; the number of choices at the grocery store; a cup of coffee larger than an espresso shot; unpacking without repacking; a tall glass of tap water. But it didn’t take long to slip back into “normal” life. We even went on an amazing road trip to the Pacific Northwest, spent a month in Colorado, explored a good portion of California (including the redwood forests, Mendocino, Santa Barbara and Palm Springs), and had a couple of major life altering events, both good and bad. Yet still, we managed to fall into a routine where the days began to run together. It made sense - we had gotten comfortable. There are benefits to being comfortable. It can be less stressful. It’s easier in ways. Mostly though, you know what to expect. But for us, right now, it’s an indication that it's time to move on to something new. We’ve begun to crave the discomfort that comes with traveling and exploring somewhere new. We miss the challenge of speaking a new language and the stimulation of learning a different culture. We’re actually excited about not knowing what to say or how to act in certain situations- completely comfortable with the fact that we’ll look like idiots... daily. We’re ready. Mentally, that is. Logistically, we’re not quite there yet. We've yet to fill those three giant suitcases with the prized possessions that made the cut from Maui. We don’t have Spanish bank accounts, credit cards, or any Euros. We have a few recommendations on neighborhoods that are considered “young and hip” but don’t quite know how to rent a flat (through an agency? Idealista, Spain's version of Craigslist?). We’re not sure where to apply for residency and social benefits. We literally booked an AirBnB apartment five days ago for the next two weeks and remembered yesterday that we should arrive in Spain with a European plug adapter. Seriously. But the thing is, we’ll figure it all out. It’s part of the fun, part of the adventure, part of why it’s called “taking a leap.” We have tools, resources, and each other. But above all, we have the desire to try; to give it a real shot. We have no idea how the future will unfold. If we’ll be living in Europe five years from now with funny little bilingual children, or if we’ll crave the comfort, security and relationships that come with a home in the U.S. All we can do now is slowly cross items off our moving “to do” list, pack our bags, take a deep breath, get on the plane, and go. One giant leap.
We're Getting Married!After the decision to extend a 2-hour layover in SF to 24 hours, we immediately bonded over a lengthy list of travel goals and an experience-driven life philosophy. From the beginning, we were inspired by one another and felt like anything was possible. And it was. Shortly after cohabitating on Maui, we created a savings plan and budget to make our round-the-world trip happen. Six (very fun) months later, we were on a plane to Saigon. Traveling through 21 countries together was an experience that changed us; both as individuals and as a couple. We spent virtually every minute together for eight months. We found ourselves in stressful situations, on (very) long bus/train rides, with stomach bugs and culture shock. Yet the many amazing moments greatly outweighed the challenges, that we expertly learned to navigate with patience, a good laugh, and a cold beer. This adventure was also the inspiration for Cohica, a passion project that has since evolved into a new business venture and (hopefully) a livelihood that will also do good for the world. We’re in the process of launching Cohica Tees 4 Good, a small retail line that will benefit well deserving NGO’s. And, we’re now officially accredited to book travel, so look for authentic, low impact, culturally immersive vacation packages available on the website starting in May. We hope that Cohica will continue to grow and are determined to have a life full of new experiences, challenges and exploration. We're Moving to Spain!Along with planning a wedding and launching a new business, we’ll be leaving for Valencia in just a few weeks. Many people have been asking us how we decided on Spain, and specifically Valencia. Here’s the scoop: Valencia fits the bill
We’re itching for a new adventure
We want to (better) learn Spanish
We’re determined to work for ourselves, doing meaningful work, from anywhere.
Because we’re not done traveling
Because life is short, so why not?
If you’re still reading our most personal, gooey post of all time, thank you. And thank you for your continued support. We’re very lucky to have amazing people in our lives - something that’s really apparent during big, exciting transition times like these. Here’s to the next big adventure!
Look for more regular blog posts as we make the move… |
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