After visiting Spain several times, I’d absolutely fallen in love with the country. By late 2024, I’d decided to leave the US and move there.
Perhaps I should’ve been worried since I had no friends or family in the country, and I didn’t speak the local language — even basic phrases such as “¿Cómo estás?” and “¿Cómo te llamas?” were far beyond my scope.
I just figured everything would work itself out, and it mostly has. However, the past year (and change) since I moved has been complicated.
Being an English speaker in a place where Spanish is the primary language has made me feel like I’m a toddler again, living in a world where everyone holds the magic keys of words … except for me.
Despite everything, though, I don’t regret my move.
The big hurdles came first, but I was able to navigate them with some help
Leslie Keener
My first hurdle? Finding and renting an apartment.
Despite having started Spanish classes at a school near my hotel two weeks before I decided to move, I still had no meaningful language skills.
So, I initiated my apartment search via email and text, using Google Translate to send and decode any messages with potential landlords.
Unfortunately, I only got one response from my search. Fortunately, that apartment was perfect.
Located in the heart of Seville’s Historic Center, it came complete with a little balcony, high ceilings, marble floors, and a small interior courtyard filled with plants cascading down from the railings.
Using Google Translate, I told the agent that I wanted it, and she asked if I was sure I didn’t have any questions.
I said I didn’t even though I probably had a few — you’d be amazed at how quickly a language barrier can knock the desire to ask questions right out of you.
The rental agency sent me a contract I couldn’t understand. So, the bilingual staff at my hotel sat with me, translating and reviewing it line by line. They even called the rental agency on my behalf for a few needed clarifications. It sounded good enough, and I signed.
Other big jumps came early as well. With my language school’s help, I navigated the visa paperwork, opened a bank account, and signed up for medical insurance.
I wasn’t completely sure what I was signing at any given moment, but I was never too intimidated because I had people walking me through each step. However, support isn’t always readily available.
Soon, I encountered the smaller functional hurdles of daily life
Leslie Keener
In the months that followed my move, I relied heavily on pointing and gesturing — but there are times when that won’t do you any good.
Though my Spanish lessons continued, I was still ages away from being able to hold a conversation. I found myself sticking with the least complicated option in almost every situation, from restaurants to salons.
For example, if I needed a haircut, I’d keep it simple by just getting a trim. That way, “trim” was the only word I needed to translate and memorize before my visit.
Even the most mundane things, such as purchasing cleaning supplies, would leave me feeling lost.
I couldn’t tell disinfectant from glass cleaner or check which product was safe for which surface without pulling out my phone to slowly translate the back of the bottles.
Doctor’s visits were harder for me to simplify. Navigating medical appointments is challenging enough in my native language, let alone in a foreign one.
I’m still not entirely sure how to explain symptoms with precision or clearly understand what a doctor is saying back to me. I worry about the nuances that can get lost in translation.
The most commonplace, spontaneous chats have been the most frustrating to navigate
Leslie Keener
While all of the above can be managed, what remains the most frustrating is stumbling through what should be ordinary, spontaneous conversations.
I can’t give someone a compliment in passing when I’m missing the one phrase I need. If a neighbor’s dog dies and I want to share something kind and meaningful, I have to wait until I can look up how to say it.
Clearing up a simple misunderstanding with a waiter? Forget it, I don’t have those words yet.
Most frustratingly, in these small, friendly neighborhoods, I see many of the same faces every day. People want to say more than hello to me, and I feel the same.
My Spanish is rough, but I still try. Simple conversations are beginning to get a tiny bit easier to navigate — but topics can’t be stretched beyond the ordinary, and that invariably leads to frustration.
Though this move has been challenging, I’m so grateful to be here
Fortunately, many locals have been patient, helpful, and understanding as I’ve picked up more Spanish.
However, there’s a limit to the time others have to spend guessing what you’re trying to say, and even an octopus wouldn’t have enough “arms” to charade itself into meaningful communication.
Language barriers can be challenging to navigate, and it can feel lonely not to understand so much. Should you make a similar move to mine, you might feel isolated at times.
I do think adapting has been a little easier for me since I’m solitary by nature. However, I know a lot of people really struggle with the isolation and resort to sticking with English-speaking expat groups instead of trying to connect with locals.
I haven’t. I chose Spain because I like Spain and its people. I look forward to when I’m able to know them better.
This adventure has been frustrating at times, but it’s been well worth the effort. Even with the language barrier, it still feels like home.
