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.