On How Moving Smashes You in the Head

As I take a break after clearing Ricky’s room, I’m thinking about how much it shakes me to move. Even this move, which is easier than previous ones, is starting to really sting. Suddenly, we’ve reached a point where chaos has shown its ugly head. You know what I mean if you’ve ever moved: the bags of stuff in the hallway, the piles of linens in the living room, nothing good to eat in the fridge, furniture missing, things you need in unlikely places, a feeling of uncertainty.  In three days, we’ll be out of this apartment and in one week we’ll be chilling in Morocco, so I try to think about that so I don’t panic.

As a child, I moved with my family from Argentina to Spain. We brought very little with us on the plane, and shipped nothing. I have blocked out most of the preparations that led to our moving to Spain. That enormous shift gave me a feeling of extreme loss, of things and people and places. Plus, five years before the relocation to Spain we had gone from Buenos Aires to Tandil, from the big city to the middle of nowhere, where we knew no one. It was a wonderful place, our house in Tandil, with forests and dogs and cats and clean air. The move from the city to the country I’ve mostly forgotten, fortunately. I just remember the fear, the excitement.

I just asked my dad, who was here to bring us supplies to paint Ricky’s room, what the moves were like for him. He said he liked moving from Buenos Aires to the country with two big trucks of stuff, but did not like leaving Argentina five years later with six suitcases. I asked what we did with all the stuff we did not take with us. “We sold some, we gave away most, we threw away a lot, we burned a little,” he said. Minus the burning, it’s similar to our current and previous experience moving.

I went to college in the US, lightly, with a couple of suitcases. When Bryan and I moved in together, we just accumulated things. Our first move from one apartment to another, we did not get rid of much. We just rented a u-haul truck and transported our second hand furniture. That was hard, physically, but not a move which made us think.

When we moved out of Tivoli’s School House right after college, we suffered. My sister lived with us that year, and the three of us (Bryan, my sister and me) stayed up all night cleaning the apartment and putting things into boxes. We got rid of a lot of books, which we put outside our building for people to take. It felt good to give away books so others could read them, to liberate them into the world.

We left almost all our things in storage then, and took off for California with the trunk full with suitcases, and more stuff in the back seat. Our friend Andrew who came with us on the trip had to sit in our Mazda with a blender between his feet. We lived in Los Angeles for twelve years, eleven and a half of those years in the same place.

In 2009, we moved out of Los Angeles. It was not fun. It took weeks of sorting and going to Goodwill to donate items and cleaning and finally, just leaving a mountain of furniture and assorted items in front on the sidewalk in front of our house for people to take. As if finding a home for all our things was not enough, we had forest fires and awful air quality during our last days in Hollywood. Our friend Tracy took Ricky out during the day for the last couple of days, so he would not have to see us emptying it all. Jeff, our friend and next door neighbor, also helped by entertaining Ricky in the yard and in his house with long pachinko games while we discarded almost everything we owned.

A real move breaks and strengthens you both. You suffer, you make decisions, you move on. You emerge a slightly different individual.

Part of what makes moving so hard is that we get attached to things and don’t want to let go, even though we have little use for a lot of what we store. But afterward, it feels good: once the things are gone to a friend’s house or to the curb, I feel for the most part a huge sense of relief. I feel lighter, freer. And the best part of moving: soon it’s over and most of the trauma will be forgotten. The brain does that to protect you. Cheers to that thought.

Plans For Our Last Week and Thoughts of Valencia

We are now one week from leaving.  There are only a few things that we must accomplish in that time.  Among the most urgent of those are:

• Finish clearing our apartment.  We've made great progress here.  There is not much furniture left to worry about, and the only room that really has a lot of stuff left in it is the kitchen, which I think we'll really be attacking tomorrow.  Today we'll be finishing up Ricky's room.
• Unpack and repack the things we are actually taking, so that we know what we've got and have got what we need.

I wish that, instead, we were already traveling and did not need to think about these things.

Spain has been a lot of fun.  We have spent a lot of time traveling within the country, seeing cities that we were not really familiar with previously.  The biggest and most pleasant surprise for us inside Spain was Valencia.  The third largest city in the country, we had only passed through it previously.  We went for the first time at the end of 2009, when my sister was visiting with her family.  We all took the train out there, and had a great time.  We had so much fun, that Ana and Ricky and I returned several more times during the year.

One of the highlights of the city, especially for those traveling with children, is the City of Arts and Sciences.  This futuristic-looking museum complex includes Europe's largest aquarium, a science museum, an IMAX theater, a garden, and a performing arts center.  It is stunning to see, and has plenty of interesting features for the children and the parents.  Another wonderful location in the city is the Bioparc, which is a large, modern zoo, in which you can walk through the exhibition spaces, and have animals literally all around. 

Of course, there are wonderful things to eat.  There is the paella valenciana, the saffron and rice dish which originates in the region, and which is still made best here.  There are also many other traditional seafood dishes, as the city sits right upon the Mediterranean.  We visited the rice growing region of the Valencia province, and had a great meal at a restaurant called La Primitiva.  The restaurant was located between rice fields, had a very friendly staff, and took a bit of driving to find.   Once we did, we were very happy.  We had an eel stew that was rich and flavorful and delicious.

The old city of Valencia is another facet of this wonderful city which we enjoyed.  With ancient, narrow, winding streets, it reflects the Moorish heritage of the city in its construction and the lively population there today.

A final great point about Valencia is the traditional drink of the region, Horchata.  This sweet white beverage is made from the tiger nut, which is actually a kind of legume.  It can be found in both everyday bars and in specialized locations which produce it themselves and brag of its quality.  It is a wonderful treat, worth going to the city for all by itself.

But that's Valencia, and today I am in Madrid, and I need to get to work on the apartment.  Seven days until Morocco!

Move Update #3: Progress, Progress, Progress

New Year's Day was not taken as slowly as I might have liked, but there was the compensation of actually getting some work done on the apartment.  The day started poorly, as Ana was not feeling well.  We were supposed to have lunch with her parents, but now she was not going.  I loaded two suitcases into the car, added a little stool, Ricky's scooter, and a box of plants, and went off with Ricky. 

Ricky loves spending time with his grandparents.  He is in a special place when he is there, where the normal rules don't exactly apply.  The other day, while we were there, he said he wanted a second helping of ice cream.  When I told him he had eaten enough ice cream, he told me that his grandma always lets him have more ice cream, and he intended to have more ice cream.  At that moment she came up and asked if he wanted more ice cream.  The rules are different there, and he understands that.

Ana's mother made raviolis - she is from an Italian family and she makes homemade pasta several times a month - stuffed with ham and chard.  It was very good.  We talked about their upcoming trip to the southern part of Argentina, and then I put the suitcases away on some shelves.  Ana's father gave me paint so that we can give the apartment a farewell coat once we get it emptied, and I went back to Madrid, where Ana was feeling a bit better.

Then I attacked Ricky's room.  We have been leaving Ricky's room mostly alone in the packing process, trying to minimize the disorientation he feels.  Now, though, he is out, likely not to return to the apartment.  I took on his desk, a large piece of furniture which was stuffed with his various treasures.  I went through it with a big box for garbage next to me, and nearly filled it with stuff before the desk was emptied.  Then I took the desk outside to the trash.  I don't mind getting rid of my own stuff at all, because I have learned that I don't miss many things once they're gone.  Getting rid of Ricky's stuff was harder, because I was nagged by the knowledge that he would definitely not want to see his stuff getting thrown out (even though most of the stuff we are talking about consists of things like empty egg cartons and old toilet paper rolls, plus various papers he has found and saved).  So I felt like a mean old Daddy.  But his room is looking good!  It'll be empty today, I hope!

In the evening, we had two people coming to look at our furniture.  The guy who was coming to look at the table and chairs arrived prepared, with a large van.  He came up, took five minutes to look it over, and bought it.  He took the legs off, and I helped him carry everything into the van, and he was gone.  It was great.  Now we have a big open spot in the living room, and it feels like we're actually going to be done with this place soon.  The guy who came to look at the couch was not serious.  He had no idea how he was going to move it, he wasn't sure he liked it, since it wasn't new.  He left without saying yes or no, but I doubt we'll be hearing from him again. 

And now, another day of transition!

Move Update #2

Accomplishments of the day:

• We brought Ricky to my parents’ house, giving us more freedom to pack and discard stuff as needed.

• We brought the following to my parents’: a cardboard box full of plants, a bag with odd and ends to return, Ricky’s cash register (so he can play with it there), one shelf, one box of books. The idea is to make room in my room/guest room so the books can be left there.

• We emptied our closet and finished packing two suitcases full of clothing (which will stay with my parents).

• I exchanged e-mails with two Italian men (who I don’t believe know each other) about the sofa bed we’re selling.

• I re-listed the stroller on a different site and listed a car seat.

• Bryan disassembled our coffee table, which belongs to my sister and is going to my parents’ house.

• A set of weights and a planter were taken out of our room.

• A bag of clothing we are donating is full now and has to be taken to the box down the street.

The fun continues.

Move Update #1

We will be on a plane to Morocco on January 10, so we have exactly twelve days until we have shaken off all the stuff that sticks to us (furniture, kitchen things, books, clothing, bathroom items – all we own except for three carry-ons).

I’ve listed the sofa bed and the table and chairs, as well as Ricky’s stroller. I have not placed ads for the beds yet. I’ll do that tomorrow. I’ve received a few responses to my ads. Some promising, others insane. One man wanted to know if the table was in perfect condition, otherwise he was not interested, plus he wanted me to ship it to him in Burgos. Another guy said he wanted the sofa bed, but that because he was going out of town, he wanted to pick it up tomorrow between 12 and 2 pm, and that he assumed the couch was disassembled.

I’ve packed one and a half suitcases of clothing that we’re not taking with us on the trip.

I started packing a suitcase with small kitchen things I love: a few small bowls, four Japanese plates, an apron I bought in Rome when I went there with Satomi. She used it as a shawl when we went into Saint Peter’s in the Vatican (to satisfy the covered shoulders rule). I will also pack the bottle opener that makes wine bottles pop like they are champagne (Sharon gave it to me as a present for my birthday last year), a cutting board I bought in Argentina, a mortar and pestle made out of olive wood.

There’s a full suitcase with papers and photos and Ricky’s drawings.

Another suitcase will be packed with Ricky’s toys and books.

By January 7 at the latest, we will be done emptying our apartment. We’re meeting the landlord that day to give him back the keys. Our lease expires January 15, but we bought the tickets for the 10th because we are eager to be on the road and we’re really looking forward to warmer climates. We’d like a couple of days to rest before the trip, so that’s why we’re meeting the landlord on the 7th. Before that, we’ll paint Ricky’s room, because it needs it and we want to get our deposit back.

Bryan and I will stay in my parents’ house in Guadalajara for a few days starting sometime around January 5, sooner if we sell our bed right away (if we sold our bed and still needed to clean the place, we could sleep on an inflatable bed we have for a day or two). Ricky is going to my parents’ tomorrow and he’ll stay there most likely until we leave town. It is hard for us to get things in order here with Ricky around, because the move is very disorienting for him and he doesn’t want to lose anything. When we throw things into big plastic bags and he sees us, he often takes whatever we threw away out and decides he is keeping it. Old travel magazines, for example. Or boxes.

So tomorrow we’re going to my parents’ for some lunch (gnocci) and Ricky will stay there. We’ll work more productively then, hopefully. We’re probably not renting a storage area after all, although we always can at the last minute, if it gets to that. If all we have is six suitcases to leave at my parents’, then there’s room. So we’re trying to trim it down to that. It’s daunting work. Wish us luck.

Re-Moving

I am sitting in the living room of my apartment, surrounded by the precious debris that seems to immediately accumulate when I declare myself to be "at home." We are in the process of vacating a home for the third time in the last few years. Last time, we moved out of a Los Angeles apartment we had lived in for 12 years. Shortly before that, we had to vacate my childhood home, after my father died.

My father had lived in his home for the last 30 years of his life. For the second half of those 15 years, he lived there alone. That meant 15 years in which the house had never been thoroughly cleaned, and in which he was able to fully indulge his tendency to retain things. The greatest sin possible, in his eyes, was to discard something and need it later. The sheer bulk of the job was terrifying. We started out sorting, trying to figure out what to keep and what to discard. It soon became apparent that there was very, very little that was worth keeping. That not only applied within the house, but in general. Most things are replaceable. There is no need to confuse a home with a warehouse. I had never gotten rid of my childhood debris, it had all remained in my father's house. Over the years, while I had made various moves around the United States, additional items had accumulated there, while little had been removed. All the while, my father continued to accumulate things, filling every corner of the house. We found no fewer than eight George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machines in varying shapes, sizes, colors, and states of repair. Piles of papers lined the stairways, and not a room in the house had a free surface. And nearly all of it, more than 99 percent of it, was junk.

Trucks came to the house, and left filled with garbage. Still there was more. Dozens of trash bags went to the curb. We were scolded by the trashmen and by the town zoning enforcement agents. Still there was more. We held a giant sale, but the things persisted. We advertised the furniture, asking only that people come and pick it up, and the furniture went. But we never actually were able to get to the bottom of the mess. Finally, we declared victory and retreated, leaving most of the lower level of the house (the basement and the crawl space) as it was. When we sold it, we let the buyer know that they were getting the house with all the treasures. At the last minute they said they wanted a discount because of the things in the house. We refused, and they accepted the property as it was. It was just a negotiating ploy. They were knocking the whole building down anyway.

When we finished with the months of work my father's house required, we started rethinking our pack-rat habits. From our apartment, we began to remove things we were not using. Part of this was the pressure of space, of adapting our home to a growing boy. Part of it, though, was actually a lesson learned about keeping things, or perhaps better to say an acquired aversion. Still, it took months to dig out of our own home, and there was still a massive amount of work to be done before we left.

In Spain, we have not been here long enough to really get into trouble with having too many things. But there are enough to worry about. With less than three weeks to go before we leave, it will not be a terrible job to get finished here. But it will be work.

On Moving On and Shipping Out

We've lived in Madrid, Spain for almost sixteen months. We moved here from Los Angeles with seven suitcases, three laptops and one enormous Britax Marathon carseat. (We were allowed six suitcases on Continental, and we paid extra for the seventh). Before this move, we spent months researching whether it made sense for us to ship items to Europe by boat. We sent e-mails to shipping companies, most of which were not returned. We made some calls. At the end, we decided it would only made sense if we got a full container of cargo, which would cost about $5,000, which seemed like a lot to pay to move our old couch from IKEA and table from a thrift shop. Plus, taxes and other fees were not clear ahead of time. We would have to pay duties upon arrival, and then more to transport our things from the port to our destination. The port of arrival was going to be in Germany, and it was not clear how our things would then come to Spain. It was also not clear when the items would arrive. Given the uncertainties about cost and some horror stories we read on the internet about long delays and shocking tariffs, we decided shipping by boat did not make sense for us.

People suggested we send some boxes by surface mail to Spain. The idea was that even if it took a few weeks to arrive, it would be fine to wait for a few books and toys. We learned the US Mail no longer offers international surface mail. The only option is to ship boxes via Air Mail or International Priority Mail, both very expensive propositions. For example, to ship a 20-pound box from the United States to Spain costs $80. And, it turns out, this is the cheapest way to ship it, because UPS and DHL and other private carriers charge even more. So we decided to get rid of all our stuff and bring to Spain only those things that would fit into a few pieces of luggage.

We did not bring any furniture from Los Angeles, and only left two suitcases over there. We went to visit Los Angeles last March and brought back these two suitcases that Tracy and Mark were storing for us (thank you, guys!). A few weeks before our move to Madrid, we had visited family in Maryland and left six suitcases over there, filled with cookbooks, CD boxes, old baseball cards, papers, lots of photos, and other items we couldn't bear to discard, but had no need to bring with us.

Which brings us to now. After over a year in our rented apartment in Madrid, we've accumulated some more stuff: a table and chairs, a sofa bed, Ricky's bunk bed, our bed, some shelves, some books and Ricky's toys (biggest of all is Ricky's little kitchen from IKEA, which we got him for his birthday this year). All the furniture we own was bought at IKEA for less than 2,000 euros. We spent some more on the toys, bedding and kitchen things.

We are leaving our apartment in early January. We intend to get rid of most things we've acquired, although we will still have to rent a small storage unit. I wish we did not have to, because storage rarely makes sense. However, we are traveling the world only with carry-on luggage (three medium backpacks), so the rest of our clothing, books and other items need to be kept somewhere. My parents live in a house with very little storage, and the most we could leave there are a couple of suitcases. We will have six or seven suitcases, large ones. Last week, I went to see a storage area about thirty minutes out of the city. The unit is a little under three square meters and it costs 30 euros a month to rent. We can easily store our bags here, and a few boxes of things (kitchen things, for example), which would be useful to have if we end up moving back to Spain next year.

It is strange to think about the odd things one becomes attached to. A frying pan, a wok, a microplaner.

Can't wait to be on the plane to Marrakesh in less than a month!

And we proceed...

Arrangements have been made. We shall be quitting the scene in under a month, moving onward. It's not that this has been a bad place, but it does not seem to be a place which is sustainable for us. An effort made in good faith, as it were.

My family - myself, my wife, and our five-year-old son, have been in Spain for more than a year, coming here from Los Angeles. Madrid is a fine city, in its way as fine a city as Los Angeles. It has museums, bars, restaurants, and a first rate transportation system that essentially liberates one from the need to own a car. But in the bleakness of the winter, with its short days and biting cold, it will be easy to leave behind.

Our son, Ricky, comes out of school to learn as we go. It was a fine school, and he learned fine things, and met fine people and wore a fine uniform, complete with black shoes and a tie and gray slacks and a jumper. I'm sure there shall be moments when he will miss it.

For now we deal with the dreary demands of our few belongings. Before moving to Spain, there was a great purge of items, a dropping of the detritis which had accumulated in a dozen years of stability. We traveled with suitcases, bringing little. We left many things with my sister, who has been kind enough to keep things for us, looking toward a future day when our feet touch ground in a place we decide to stay, and our items can be brought together and unpacked, and we can live in a museum of our own devising. At the moment we have little, but enough to be troublesome, as we lack a place to keep our things. Our furniture means nothing to us, wonderfully fungible items bought at low cost and utterly free of sentimental value, although the waste of usable items still grieves. So we shall rent a space, store what is worth storing, and retrieve it when we can. We give up our apartment without regret. It has served us adequately, but it lacks charm. Cut from all ties to property, real or personal, we set forth with carry-on luggage, tickets for Africa, and plans for Asia and the world to the east.

Bryan