We spent the summer – really our first three or four months here – in what I’d call ‘transition mode’.  Not only did we make a physical transition from one country to another, but our identity was in transition in our daily lives…how we thought of ourselves was in transition.  The early months really felt like we were tourists on a very long vacation (I know, I know, from the looks of all the drinking and eating, that’s what you all thought too!) – almost as though at some point one of us would ask when we had to start packing and head home.  We lived in an area we knew that we wouldn’t stay in – it was fun and funky and lively, but with the average age of the tourists coming through at about 22 began to feel like we needed our cane and wheelchairs to go down to the local gelato stand.

Toward the end of the stay in el Borne, something interesting began to happen, though.  Local merchants we frequented as our favorites – the host and servers at the local café just around the corner, the gelato guy literally out our front door (BEST gelato in Barcelona…BEST!), the pizza lady and the crepe maker – all began to have a chink in their “just another tourist” façade and recognized, acknowledged and chatted with us in what I now call “Que tal?” (“How are you?”) mode.    This change was subtle, but looking back, it’s very clear.  It had finally sunk in that we were not just passing through (though we were moving to another neighborhood) – we were actually committed to LIVING here, for a reasonable long time at least.   When it came time to actually leave el Borne, there were some people we were going to miss – and since then I have been back in that area to have lunch, catch up and say hello – and have been greeted warmly, like an old friend.

Now that we have been in Tres Torres for about the same amount of time as we had been in el Borne, it’s happening again, in spades.  This is now our “barrio” – our neighborhood – and we are getting to know our neighbors, the fruit merchant, the checkout lady at the local supermarket, the baristas at our regular café, the older couple that own the animal supply store…the whole gang.  With the business structure here very much grounded in independent  shops, family run businesses, there is a pride of ownership and a dedication to regular customers that is rarely seen in urban US. Granted, our local Starbucks and QFC in Mercer Island were our haunts and in suburbia “everyone knows your name” (ugh!)….but here – in a very big city, you get to know your barrio and the people who keep it vibrant.  It’s a cool little set of ecosystems and it makes a big urban place less intimidating for sure.

Sure, you can go to IKEA with the masses on a Saturday afternoon and be just one of the gazillion thrifty shoppers with similarly decorated living rooms (sorry, I love IKEA – I am just taking poetic liberty here to make a point), or you can shop at the incredibly well stocked El Corte Ingles department store with a massive grocery section to die for downstairs, but our daily rhythm takes us mainly to the smaller shops.  It’s very sweet that the server at one of our morning coffee stops – a woman we thought hated us at first – now comes over with a huge smile and tells US what we want…she has our regular morning choices down pat!  The couple that runs the pet store around the corner greets us and the dogs warmly and work at their English to communicate as we struggle with our Spainglish.  And Andrew – the chief dog walker in the family – has a literal gaggle of women (with dogs) that are his “dog park” posse when he takes Donovan and Candy out for a playdate.

I am excited that we are now beginning to have the experience of being part of the fabric of life here.  Admittedly it’s not the same as being Catalan and having the history and culture in common, but I am grateful that we have been gifted the chance to live within another culture and feel it from the inside – not just view it as casual observers.