I sat in the car, waiting for my husband to finish his lunch with his friends, and I flashed back to my car line days. I used to arrive at school a whole 45 minutes early. While I waited for school to dismiss, I’d read, listen to podcasts, or simply enjoy the silence.
There are certainly some things I miss about the U.S.—convenience being high on that list—but this car culture?
That’s not one.
In my last post, I told you what I’d missed about the U.S., and now we’re going to flip it.
Getting Around
How little I miss driving everywhere. Seriously.
Need a drink from the gas station? Hop in the car.
Meeting a friend at the park? Grab your car keys.
Want something from a restaurant a couple of blocks away? You’re taking the car because, without reliable sidewalks and pedestrian lights, arriving by foot is taking your life into your own hands.
Cars have their uses. At times, I miss having one a lot, depending on what I want to do. I especially miss having a car for getting out of the city and driving until I find a town I want to explore. But for my day-to-day life?
I can quite happily live without one. Honestly? Spending so much time in the car made me grateful for every step I take in Spain.
I’ll tell you a secret: The first time I got behind the wheel in the U.S. after not driving for a year and a half, a little thrill of power rushed through me. I like driving. I just don’t like the hold it has on me when I’m there.
Space Usage
In Valencia, buildings tend to go up instead of out. Commercial use on the bottom, and residential use on the top. It works well. The layout makes sense in a way American sprawl never did. Nearly everything you need or want can either be reached via public transit or your own two feet. Even the centros comerciales (alive and well!) go up instead of out.
In the U.S., with the exception of a few cities, everything is spread out. Strip malls, giant parking lots, warehouse stores, and big-box retailers abound. The ones still standing sprawl across hundreds of acres of land, surrounded by endless concrete parking lots—some indoor, some outdoor.
We went to a mall in Franklin, Tennessee, for a few hours one evening. The place was practically dead with the exception of a few stores. (Apple, I’m looking at you.) Just wide corridors and the echo of our own footsteps.
Food
U.S. food made me sick.
Nearly two years of eating Spanish food had recalibrated my stomach. Our first full day in Middle Tennessee, we had a lot of fast food because, unfortunately, that’s what the kids missed most. So we gave them that—and paid for it with an upset stomach for two days.
Once upon a time, I had a terrible addiction to Mtn. Dew Zero. (There is no world in which this isn’t horrible for your body.) I’m not proud of it, but my favorite treat in the world was a 20-ounce Mtn. Dew Zero with a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
Today, I can’t even eat the candy because it tastes like chemicals. I had exactly two Mtn. Dew Zeroes in the U.S. before I decided I was done with them.
Time Management
Murfreesboro, Tennessee, is a time suck.
Seriously.
It takes me 15 minutes just to cross traffic to the nearest Walmart.
We wasted so much time in traffic in Murfreesboro. Every place we needed to go was a minimum of 10 minutes away by car—and we stayed in a central area “near” everything we were doing. I-24 was its own special brand of punishment.
Listen, I know you can listen to a book, podcast, music, whatever. But sitting in a car feels a lot like losing valuable minutes of your life for … nothing. I’d much rather sit on the metro here in Valencia scrolling my phone, reading, or chitchatting with my family than staring at license plates and taillights.
Drive-thru culture just isn’t a thing in Spain. You sit and enjoy your meal for as long as you need—not scarfing it down as quickly as possible in the car before moving on to the next errand.
Kids’ Freedom
My kids have a lot of freedom in Valencia, but in the U.S.? I still feel a need to hover. And they can’t get anywhere alone because they can’t drive. Everything has to be planned and chauffeured.
The kids stayed at my brother’s house in Kentucky for a couple of nights, and that was as close as they got to the freedom they have in Spain. My brother lives rurally, on a mini-farm, and they were free to run around and be kids with their cousins and aunt and uncle. They rode in a side-by-side, climbed into the treehouse, and played with the family pets.
Kids in Spain tend to be more mature, and I will forever be convinced it’s because they’re allowed to get away from their parents and independently explore the world. My son regularly rides the metro alone here, and he is perfectly safe to do so. Lots of kids do, and if he needed help, an adult would be ready and willing if he asked.
In suburban Nashville, I’d feel the need to watch over them, especially my daughter, who isn’t yet 12. And God forbid I send them to a park by themselves even if it was within walking distance because some nosy neighbor would feel the need to post it in the neighborhood Facebook group or report me to CPS for letting them have some independence.
As we packed up our U.S. loot and prepared to travel back to Valencia, it struck me that I was going home. And as the plane landed in Madrid, the sounds of Castellano floated in the air, reminding me that this place is becoming as familiar as the place I just left.
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After 9 months in Valencia, I have an appreciation for public transportation and how far and how long my feet can take me. Like you, I only miss having a car when I get the itch to wonder outside the city. that is it!