First Dispatch. . . again; or, Hola from Sunny Southern Spain

Hola, y'all, from sunny southern Spain.

8 o'clock p.m. in downtown Rota

Our trip here from New Orleans was rather arduous, to say the least. After about 24 hours of hopping from airport to airport, timezone to timezone, we've been in sunny southern Spain for about 5 days and it's been busy, busy, busy.

Muy busy.

I know I am driving my husband completely crazy because I have asked him every single morning, "What day is today?"

So far, we've checked into a long-term hotel, gotten our rental car, registered the rental car on base, gotten our Spanish ID cards for base, sent our official passports off to get our SOFA stamp, and registered with the government for our NIE (foreigner's identity number). We still have to do a four day long briefing, as required by the base, a housing briefing, and don't even get started on looking for a house or a car. We are doing well to just get up and get going in the mornings right now.

This is our first big move in five years, and the four of us have been living out of six suitcases for six weeks now. It's not been exactly fun, but it is something you get used to. You can really live without a lot you think you need (and if you really, really want something, you can buy almost anything else here).

Need ham? You can buy an entire leg of ham, hoof and all.

My five years in Guantánamo Bay were a time I yearned for more connection to the people of the country we called home, but had no real connection to modern day Cuba. There was radio, of course, and sometimes we even got television, but there was little to no interaction with Cubans on GTMO (and most of those were living in a nursing home and had lived in GTMO as long or longer than they had lived in Cuba). I always called it US-Cuba and not Cuba-Cuba.

Now we have palpable sense of culture from the host country. As much as I'd love to say I'm an expert on Cuban culture after living there five years, the sad truth is almost everything I learned from reading dissidents' blogs, listening to radio propaganda every morning on the way to work, and hearing occasional stories from the few exiled Cubans. Those accounts were all biased, of course. I know the base. . . but I still feel like I don't know Cuba. Maybe one day I will actually get to travel to Cuba-Cuba.

Meanwhile in Spain. . . history is alive here, as well, but in the people, young and old, the buildings, the language. It's the food. It's travel opportunities.

It's a little (a lot) overwhelming.

And we are ready to jump in with both feet.

Observations so far include the following, specifically about the Rota area:

• people speak LOUDLY and passionately, usually over each other. I know for some of you I don't have to say it, but I will: I am sure my family will fit in here just fine, since we seem to have that quality, too. 

• food is fresh, amazing, and reasonably priced. I've had duck tacos, calamari, amazing Italian food (mushroom and truffle stuffed ravioli), chorizo, jamón, and tortillas (a thick egg/potato frittata/pie hybrid, NOT the Mexican version). If you can't tell from the display of ham above, Spaniards love pork. Here in Andalucía, Spaniards also love fresh seafood. There is a wonderful selection of fresh fruit and vegetables---but as an unapologetic omnivore, I am interested in all sorts of cuisine. 

Soft shell crab tacos. Yum.

• in Rota, Spaniards also love round-abouts. Good grief, the traffic circles are absolutely ridiculous. It seems like every block has one on each of its four corners. 

• there is Island Time. . . and then there is Spanish Time. Everyone here says "no pasa nada," which loosely translated, means, "it's all good." You have to ask the waiter for the bill or you'll be sitting there until the restaurant closes. You aren't rushed, which is wonderful. You get to take your time, slow down and enjoy a conversation and savor your meal. However, the flip side is the checker at the grocery store may take 10 minutes to ring up your purchases because she is talking (VERY LOUDLY) to another checker. You are the only person in line, but "no pasa nada." You'll get your purchases sooner or later.

I could go on and on, but I only been here for five days (I think. . . again, I have lost touch with the date and time). We have errands to run and things to accomplish before school starts, but no pasa nada. I think we'll go for a walk on the beach and then eat around 9 pm tonight, Spanish style, instead.