I don't know if I'm an expat or an immigrant — and that uncertainty says more about privilege than confusion. This post isn't about untangling the terminology, though. It's about what actually happened once the excitement wore off: the tasks that suddenly felt impossible, the loneliness of not understanding or being understood, and the night I told my husband something I didn't mean at all.

The drive out of Granada was terrifying, the descent into Calpe was breathtaking, and the first look at our new terrace undid me completely. Then the heat and humidity introduced themselves — and we've been learning ever since. Groceries, siesta, bikinis, a 332-meter rock we're supposed to climb, and a dog who somehow became a completely different animal. Welcome to Calpe.