THE BENEFITS OF NAIVETÉ

We're boarding a one-way flight to Spain in fewer than five months. At that point, I anticipate an epic emotional struggle and a prolonged "holy %$*&" period of utter panic. Until then, however, I'm too busy preparing for what we're doing to actually realize what we're doing. 

There's a condo to sell, visas to obtain, a new apartment to find, a car to get rid of and a new one to buy, international schools to enroll in, movers to hire, boxes to pack and records to transfer, and a dissertation to defend so I'm actually qualified to take my new job. It's a busy and blissful little world of ignorance I'm currently living in. 

And from this privileged perch of denial, I'll say that I'm absolutely, totally, 100% excited about moving to Barcelona. Daily, I dream of learning Spanish, taking impromptu weekend trips around Europe, skiing in the Pyrenees, walking along Mediterranean beaches, and living in weather that doesn't suck for half a year. I tell the kids about all the castles we'll see — complete with assurances that of course there will be princesses living in them (I'll pay for that little untruth later) — and I daydream about all the memories we'll make together as a little family.

Every so often, as I'm doing said fantasizing — scrolling through real estate websites, playing the "what if we had 20,000 euros/month to spend on rent?" game — I come across something that reminds me what the hell we're getting ourselves into, the foreignness of it all. A real estate blurb that Google Translate won't decode properly (did the realtor really mean "the farm has hydraulic floors"?), or one that references something entirely indecipherable to me (what's an NIE? FGE?). Or photos of a dark, creepy apartment that looks unwelcoming by any country's standard, but that make me nervous we'll never find a home home when we go.  And you know what I do in those moments?  I press "X" on my internet browser and continue looking at unaffordable beach-side mansions. 

I'm living a life of deliberate naiveté right now, because in five short months, that will no longer be an option. I'm totally confident today that I will be totally unconfident come June, and that's cool with me; I'm curious to see how I'm going to fare. As David Brooks wrote about making big decisions, you have to ask yourself: "Do I have a profound desire to discover what it would be like to be this new me, to experience this new mode of living?" From this vantage point, my only answer is "yes."

Now all that said, here's one promise I'm making to myself (and incidentally, if you're reading this, also to you): I'm going to be very honest on this blog. Today it's rainbows and sunshine; tomorrow could be anything but. I'll make a point to be honest — we are, after all, living a regular old life, not going on an extended European vacation — and I know I'd be doing a disservice (if to no one but my 10-years-from-now self) if I painted it any other way. The only thing I ask is that if I start sounding self-pitying and whiny, you direct me back to this post.

WHY?

At the end of May 2016, we're moving to Barcelona. As non-Spanish-speaking parents of two kids under 5 who have good jobs and a comfortable life in Boston, a reasonable first question people might ask us is: what the hell are you thinking? And so to kick-off this blog, an abbreviated answer to that very sensible inquiry.

This whole adventure has been percolating for many years. It started as a recurring daydream we had every time we traveled abroad, like a nagging stowaway that crept into our luggage and followed us home and stuck around just a little too long. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when we simultaneously said we'd do it and believed we'd do it; over time, it just became like a game of chicken—us against our fanciful imagination—and finally, we had to take our own dare.

Therefore, the question of "why?" is most accurately answered by "why not?" And I don't mean that as a blasé dodging of the question; I mean it more as a challenge—why...not?

To digress, in my previous life as a Real Working Person, I found myself utterly dreading and resenting my otherwise very cushy job. I spilled my guts to a therapist, who (for $150/hour) asked the most stupidly obvious question, but one to which I had no compelling answer: "Well then why don't you quit?" So I did. And with hindsight, I do think it was one of my better decisions.

So back to Spain. Why not? Why not just go? The moment felt right and the window seemed open. I needed to find a job somewhere, so why not Europe? The kids are old enough to enjoy adventures (i.e., no more diapers, praisethelordhallelujah), but not so old that they'll spoil it with angsty indignation about relocating (i.e., me circa 1999). And Aaron was totally onboard to mix things up a bit (okay, a lot). So we bet on the fact that we'd end this life with more regrets if we didn't go than if we did, and that pretty much settled it.

To be clear, this could be a horrible, horrible decision. Lots of things could go very wrong, and I make no pretense about an international move being an easy and glamorous transition. Let's start with the fact that no one in our family speaks Spanish or Catalan (though some of us are diligently trying, muchas gracias). Let's continue with the fact that Aaron doesn't yet have a job. Let's further add that we'll be 4,000 miles from our nearest family member. And we can conclude by acknowledging the many wonderful things we're giving up—Aaron's great job, a home that we love, friends we'll be far from, a daily routine that works—many of them for good.

So being realistic, we're hereby defining "success" in simple and attainable terms: we'll count it as a win if do it. If we land in Barcelona next May on a one-way ticket and move to Spain. Notably absent from this definition are: how the experience will be, how long we'll stay, how many friends we'll make (or not make), how great our jobs will be (or won't be), how many weekend trips we'll take (or won't), how glad we will be that we did it. Those are unknowable. One year from now, I could be writing about what a huge mistake it all was. But that will be okay.  Because we took our own dare and then waited expectantly to see what would happen.