Never Retire: Do You Prefer Informal Or Formal Social Interaction?
I like a not-so-even mix of both
Something happened as we were arriving in Valencia. The escalation of my jet lag or I caught a bug, but let’s just say the first night we spent in what we think will be the neighborhood we end up living in—Russafa—wasn’t pleasant!
That said, we’re thrilled to be here. The neighborhood just feels right. As if we fit and it makes sense for us. More on that in the coming days and weeks.
And I received this message this morning. Our residence permit application has been submitted!
We arrived in Barcelona on Friday. On Saturday night, we had dinner with two Substack authors—
and —who moved from Phoenix just over a year ago. On Sunday afternoon, we met up for a drink and snack with another writer, . Later today, we will hang with part of my wife’s family, who, by the strangest of coincidences, arrived in Valencia the same day that we did, but on vacation.Literally more official, scheduled and formal social interaction than I had during all of 2024 in Los Angeles. I'm not the type to make social arrangements like this. And, sometimes when I do, I regret it. Often to the point—regrettably—of flaking. On one hand, I hate to admit that. On the other, I know I'm not alone.
Chew on that for a second while we knock out two pieces of business. Then, we dig into social interaction—formal and informal—and how I view it in a country where I'm an immigrant and don't speak the language well… yet! But oddly know, kind of know or am about to know more people than I do in the United States. As much as I welcome more and better friends and acquaintances in my life—forget about culture shock—it’s social interaction shock for a guy like me!
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I had a controlled mini-freakout on Sunday night. Longish story short, we had Monday night train tickets booked from Barcelona to Valencia. We have two backpacks and two large, 50 lb-plus suitcases.
As I explained the other day, as people who never check bags, we screwed up. Even so, my understanding is that Renfe, one of Spain's train operators, doesn't enforce its luggage policy. But, on Sunday, I thought what if they do? So, we erred on the side of caution and booked a rental car to make the trip. I thought I was done with cars. But, at least I'm not driving and this will make life with this damn luggage a little easier. After we drop the car off, the damn things—(cars and excessive luggage!)—are out of my life.
I have to say—the gas stations here along the highway are pretty incredible. They’re set up like rest stops in the US. You don’t have to go through another series of streets and intersections. You exit and, basically, alongside the highway, fill up (for the equivalent of $8 a gallon!), then go straight ahead right back onto the highway.
In Los Angeles, I didn't have many close friends. I really don't know why. And, honestly, I never cared. Melisse is and will remain my best friend. I'm happy with it this way.
I tend toward a preference for informal social interaction. Because I think it's one of the best pathways to create actual friendships. The thing about Los Angeles is that its car dependent built environment limits this type of contact. Which is probably why I have long craved to live in a place where they/we don't half ass urban living.