Please find me a job

A couple of weekends ago we went to my cousin’s wedding in England, which was lovely. My family scrub up surprisingly well, the bride looked beautiful, and various people gave some of the best wedding speeches I’ve ever heard, and I say that as an expert in wedding speeches; I’ve been to three weddings now, not including my own. Yes, I’m quite the socialite. 

But I don’t really want to talk about the wedding here – the couple kept it all very small and intimate, and I feel weird about discussing something so personal that isn’t really mine to discuss, in a way, even though most of the people who read this blog are people who were probably there anyway (hi, mum!). Instead, here is a picture of me and my dad at the wedding that I am going to get enlarged and framed and placed somewhere prominent, because I love it;

We don’t photograph well in our family, but we are masters at mugging for the camera. 

And the reason that I bring up the wedding at all is that being away from Pamplona for a few days made me realise how much I’ve adapted to the idea that it is home now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt comfortable somewhere so quickly. Over a couple of wines the other night we had a long discussion about the practicalities of making the move here permanent. I don’t think it’s just the fact that I’m basically on an extended holiday at the moment, I think I could actually live here quite happily. 

But it turns out that, while possible, making the move would be pretty complicated and would mean Jo giving up on finishing his degree, which isn’t worth it. And there’s the question of earning a living. I could teach English, but I’ve sworn only to do that as an absolute last resort. So, if anyone knows of any highly paid jobs in Pamplona that don’t require fluent Spanish, please let me know. I suppose the answer is to work hard on our Spanish now and when we get home, and for Jo to finish uni, see if the Spanish economy pulls out of its nose dive, then to see if we still want to come back. 

But I don’t want to leave with the feeling that maybe one day we’ll come back for a holiday, or worse, that we’ll spend the rest of our lives reminiscing about the time we lived in Spain for a couple of months but never went back. I want to leave knowing that we’ll be back.