Starting Over, Again

Hola!

I've just passed one year being away from NZ, and in that time I've managed to end up in Spain, a place that I had never anticipated working in from the time I left the green shores of Aotearoa. My departure from the UK has basically ended a chapter of my life and opened up a new and exciting one. After nearly a year in the UK, I am now in Palma de Mallorca.

Getting to Spain was a turbulent journey from the time I was asked to go. In particular, the month of October has more or less been hell-on-earth for me, which has no doubt affected those people close to me. I've had a roller coaster of emotions, and I feel it is time to write some of these thoughts down.

October was the month that I knew I had to prepare for the move to Spain. I knew it was imminent, it was just a matter of what day I had to move. This uncertainty drove me crazy to no end. It was like receiving a death sentence from a trial judge and not knowing the exact date and time of your execution. On top of that, I received news from the people above me that I had to apply for a Spanish visa myself, which they never informed me about before! Hence I had been running around like a headless chicken trying to organise documents to get this process moving. I managed to do so just before I left the UK, but knowing from past experience, it will take a long time before I see this precious stamp in my passport. October was a trying month, which has taken a toll on me physically and emotionally. But it was also a character-building month, which I can learn from and hopefully apply in the future when I encounter more of life's trials.

But the uncertainty of moving didn't start in October. I wrote earlier that my move to Spain was determined way back in June. The time that I got called into the meeting room for a talk with the manager is still very clear in my mind. And I can still play out the silent reaction that I felt when I heard the news. I felt afraid. I was actually pretty scared about the move. It felt like my life in the UK was over, and that I had to start afresh in a new country where English isn't the norm. From that time I heard the fateful news, I had six weeks to prepare to move to Spain. But as the scriptwriter wrote it, it was closer to six months. So why did it take so long?

The reason that it took so long for me to get to Spain was that the customer took a long time to sign the contract. It was made absolutely clear that I wouldn't start work until we had a signed contract. Every time I asked about the contract I got the same response. Time went on and on, and in the end it was over four months overdue. I was hanging by a thread for over four months! Imagine your life being put on hold for four months, not knowing when you had to make the big move. Your plans get disrupted, your goals get changed. I had plans and goals, most of them blown away while I was waiting in anticipation for that signature. It was unfair to say the least. I won't hesitate in pointing fingers at every single party who kept me in the dark for so long. But in the end, that doesn't really achieve anything. That's life, and I had to learn to roll with the punches.

There was a positive though. I am thankful that I managed to spend four more precious months in the UK. When I first got the news that I had to go to Spain, I was just about to ramp up the marathon training. I had already bought tickets to watch Diana Krall in concert at the Royal Albert Hall. I was just beginning to know Tina a little better. Having fateful news hastily announced to me there and then disrupted everything I worked so hard towards. Of course I could pick up the pieces when I moved to Spain, but the stress of relocation, and last minute plan changes, would have been too much.

But I managed to hold on for four more months, and in that time, especially when I knew I would lose out on training days, I worked a lot harder in marathon training, concentrating mainly on tempo runs and speedwork. The extra effort paid off; I was able to give it my best at Berlin. Having four more months in the UK meant that I didn't need to change my flight plans, as I had already booked my flights to Germany in April.

I also purchased tickets to see Diana Krall in late October, and I thought it was nigh on impossible to even see the concert, unless I was willing to travel back to the UK to see her. But it turned out that I managed to see the concert five days before I left the UK. It was an amazing concert in an intimate setting, which changed my outlook of jazz music significantly. Diana Krall exhibited a masterclass of silky jazz and piano playing. I think I've become a jazz convert.

But I'll always be thankful for the extra time that I spent in Reading, and with Tina. When I first broke the news to her that I would be leaving the UK, I couldn't help fighting back the tears. It was one of the most difficult things I have had to do. I'm pretty sure she felt a bit of emotion there too, but she was way too composed to show it. She even gave me a valuable piece of advice there and then and I am truly indebted to her for that. During my four months, I felt that I got to know her a lot better in that time. I even had the courage to ask her out to dinner. It was in July during the time when I thought I only had six weeks in the UK. Some people may think it would've been awkward, or even off-limits, to ask a housemate out to dinner. But it turned out to be a fantastic time and I hope she enjoyed it too.

In the end I wanted closure before moving to Spain. And, in the midst of the October chaos, I managed to do that. People who I got to know in Reading, I made a point to let them know I was leaving. From my neighbours, to the owner of the sandwich shop that I always visited in town. On the day I left the UK, I farewelled Tina at the train station as she left for work. I gave her a big hug, a sealed letter and another big hug, and watched her climb the elevator to the platform. The final parting glance and wave she gave me on the elevator was the last time I saw her. When it was time for me to leave Reading on a train to Gatwick Airport, I couldn't help shedding a few tears, knowing that all good things have to come to an end.

Living in Spain for nearly two weeks hasn't been as difficult as I initially thought. I have my own apartment with everything provided for me, and the life skills that I learnt when I first arrived in the UK has greatly helped me here. The food has been excellent, and I thought I would suffer from major withdrawl symptoms missing out on the pasties and paninis that I normally had in the UK. The obvious challenge is the Spanish language, and I'm trying very hard to learn Spanish as quickly as possible to get around the place and talk with the locals. So far, I'm doing quite well in these two weeks, and hopefully in a month or so I could get by comfortably. I believe that I'll have at least 12 months in Spain, but as I learnt so suddenly in Reading, plans change and perhaps I'll end up living in Spain a lot longer, or maybe even less than that.

I won't discount moving back to the UK, but if I do, it will be a new chapter all together. Maybe I'll move back to Reading, maybe I won't. Hopefully I'll cross paths with Tina again, but maybe I won't get another chance. Living in Reading for 12 months was a significant chapter in my life, filled with many great moments that I'll always remember with clarity. The networks and friends that I've managed to establish and build up are precious and I'll try my absolute hardest to maintain them whilst living here in Spain.

To close this rather deep and meaningful entry, the title of this blog post was inspired by DEEN, a long-running popular music group in Japan, with their track also titled Starting Over. Having closed a chapter and starting an entirely different one, I feel like I have been doing just that.

Saludos!