Seven weeks in Ibiza.....

I was going to write something after four weeks here, capturing the various moments but it slipped to five weeks, six weeks and now after seven weeks, I'm getting round to writing how the first few weeks have been. It feels more like seven months, in a good way though. Next Friday will mark two months in Ibiza for me and I'll be busy exhibiting at an Interiors show just outside of Ibiza Town. That's going to be a great way to mark two months!

Anyway, back to the first few weeks. Although I scribbled away quite a lot in the first few weeks, capturing all the various moods I was going through, it was only after about three weeks that I really made sense of how I'd been feeling. That's how long it took before I started to feel settled. In the greater scheme of things, that's not long at all but then again, I am very impatient! Here's something I wrote to a friend just after three weeks:

"Feeling quite settled now. First three weeks felt like I was neither here nor there. Not huge amounts of contact with the life I'd left (for which I felt pangs of guilt) but feeling like a complete novice here - you start wondering where you belong. But something really clicked into place on Saturday and it's been quite magical since - the change in seasons, the end of winter and the start of spring may have something to do with it too! The light in the valley is quite breathtaking now, as are all the wild flowers in the fields.  For a city girl, my heart seems to be in the countryside". 

The first three weeks were a combination of being constantly amazed at the beauty of the island and moments of discomfort as I didn't know how to do this or that. You get so used to the life you're living that you never have to think about anything. Then you find yourself in a place where you have to start from scratch, in a language you don't speak, having to work out how to do the simplest things like posting letters. Bea was an absolute godsend - helping me with everything, drawing me maps to show me where I needed to go, explaining things, generally doing all she could to make my life easier. I felt so proud of myself when after a couple of weeks, I went off to buy wood by myself - it feels like a major achievement when you accomplish something by yourself. I guess it's like a child learning to walk - you appreciate the hand that holds you as you toddle along but you really want to do it by yourself. 

I also packed up my life in London so quickly that I didn't really have time to think about the move I was making. I finished work on a Tuesday, on the Wednesday I started packing properly and the following Monday morning, I loaded up the  van, collected Carole and headed off for my new life. It didn't really sink in what I was doing, it still hasn't. Once I arrived in Ibiza, I took it easy for a few weeks, catching up on sleep and trying to fix years of tiredness from London. I was quietly preparing things on the work front but not pushing things too much. As I mentioned in my earlier post, my daytimes were definitely looking forwards with not even a slight glance back at the life I left. I found myself wondering if that life had been so meaningless that I could leave it so easily and not look back. How could I forget my old life so quickly? But I hadn't really forgotten it - it would come to me every night in dreams. At night I always looked at the life I'd left. Perhaps in those uncomfortable moments in the first few weeks, I had to look forwards, only forwards so I wouldn't regret the much easier life I'd just left. 

I hid in the countryside in the first few weeks. If I did go anywhere, I'd keep myself to myself. I made contact with the few friends of friends I knew here but didn't arrange to meet up with anyone. I needed time to rest. I didn't feel ready to make new friends. When you're in that strange no-man's land you might come across as a desperate person who doesn't know anyone if you try too hard to get to know people. Perhaps you give off a funny vibe and people generally tend to avoid you. Also, making friends with Bea as soon as I arrived meant that I felt like I had a really good friend from the beginning. Actually I had two really good friends from the moment I arrived - the other one being Red who is gracing the photo with this post. Yes, okay I know he's a cat but we did actually become friends immediately and that was before he discovered that I'm soft-hearted and can be counted on giving treats to the cats. I love Red and perhaps he knows it and in return, loves me back!

The end of the third week saw me celebrating my birthday and from that day, something clicked into place and it's all felt very different since. My birthday reminded me of the importance of quality, not quantity when it comes to anything, particularly friends. Bea, who I'd known for three weeks, really made my birthday special. Someone else I know and have known for years was just a little strange but then again, he does seem to be a bit hot and cold with me.  

I'd said that after my birthday, I'd start to really move things forwards with finding work. The thing that I'd been so apprehensive about - contacting estate agents to see if I could leave my cards there - turned out to absolutely fine, as these things usually are. I didn't get many responses to the emails I sent out but I've spent a couple of days this week distributing my cards and they've been very well received. Only one place, a restaurant, asked what I'd do for them if they displayed my cards. We're meant to be having a talk about how we can work together, I'll see if I hear from them. 

I started to get recognised in the places where I tend to spend most time, people would wave to me and say "hola" as I went by. When you get to this stage, it's lovely. You start to feel that maybe, just maybe, you're starting to belong somewhere again. In Foodism, one of the internet cafes I use, after a few weeks it was as if I passed some magic test and became a friend. Before that, I'd been another random person using the wi-fi facility. Earlier this week, there was some serious bonding over a love of music with Mladen who owns Foodism. It's nice how it happened, it was very organic, not forced and now I'm glad that I didn't rush about in the first few weeks trying to make friends. 

After seven weeks I feel quite settled. I still need to make a big effort with learning Spanish - my brain doesn't seem to work as quickly as it did when I learnt Japanese in my early twenties. Bea is currently in Italy and hopefully should be back next week. I miss her and will be glad when she returns. But at least I'll have lots of new things to tell her about and even some new friends to introduce her too. I've slipped into a nice little routine. Even though I'm not working, I get up early and go swimming in the mornings. This has a double purpose - I get some exercise four or five times a week and I also get to take a hot shower and even dry my hair with my jumbo-strength professional hair dryer. I laughed a couple of weeks ago in the changing rooms when a lady asked me if I was a hairdresser. I said no and then pointed to my fringe. I'd cut it myself, it's now very choppy and uneven - I'm hoping to start a new fashion for jagged fringes. I have a Saturday routine not that dissimilar to the one I had in London, although instead of yoga on Saturday mornings, I go to the pool and do 40 lengths. Then it's off to an internet cafe to listen to the Six Million Steps radio show, broadcast out of London by my friends Andrew and DC. 

So, all in all seven weeks in, things are going well. There have been no major disasters, although I have managed to destroy a few things in the house. The worst was the sliding door at the back of the house. It hadn't been opened for years but after Bea and I had cleared the garden, I got excited and wanted to open up access to the garden from the kitchen and room at the back. I managed to prise the lock open, slid the door to one side and excitedly shouted to Bea to come and see what I'd done. She came and saw, meanwhile I moved to the other door to see if I could open that. As soon as I stepped aside, there was a scream from Bea, a crash and the sound of breaking glass. I turned round to see that the door I'd opened had completely collapsed, fallen out of the frame and as it crashed forwards, the glass broke. It missed me by inches. When we looked more closely at the broken door, we realised that the wood was completely rotten and it had been an accident waiting to happen. That happened. I felt guilty but less so when I found out that the rotten wood in the door had been known about, it had been known that it was a danger and nothing had ever been done about it.   

There's been some good news with the van. I didn't think I'd be able to drive it any longer once the European insurance ran out at the beginning of May. But there's a company that does insurance for British cars/vans in Spain. They've given me a good quote and all this means that I can carry on driving the van for at least another year. That's one less thing to think about. 

So all in all, going well. Long may it continue!