Moving to Spain and the fine line between fantasy and reality

October 24, 2026

I remember landing at the Málaga airport in September of 2022.

Originally sent to my mailing list in September 2024, on the two-year anniversary of moving to Spain. Republished here in October 2026, now four years in. This is the second chapter of my Spain origin story and picks up after “a closing letter.” Please note: This is not an article on the logistics of making the reality happen. Resources for that may be found elsewhere, and I can address that separately.

The trilogy:

The closing letter. When Shoji Arts permanently closed →
The arrival story. Moving to Spain and the fine line between fantasy and reality → (read below)
The love story. How 2023 Made Me a Princess in a Spanish Fairytale →

Doing what you’ve always done won’t get you where you’ve never been.

Hey Friend,

I remember landing at the Málaga airport in September of 2022.

I was ready and convinced I would make a change and see myself live the dream in the South of Spain.

Sin Maleta. Luggage Lost.

I go to pick up my one checked luggage for this journey from the United States. It’s not there.

Clearing my throat I try to make this known at the airport customer service counter in my best Castilian Spanish. She tells me I went to the wrong baggage claim and that I need to go to a different belt instead, the one for international travel.

I tell her the same, it’s just not there. I’ve already checked.

Hours later — in the airport — I download the ride app Blablacar and create a profile to get a lift to my city, La Línea de la Concepción. It’s about an hour and a half away.

Deterred by payment integration and language barriers and inconveniences, I give up and order an Uber to overpay for a ride to my new home in the world.

Sin maleta. Without my luggage.

Creepy Airbnb Host. Kissed by a stranger.

I check in to my Airbnb in La Línea. The host of the Airbnb who is renting the room to me strangely resides in the property.

He kisses me on the mouth. Ewww. Strange, I think. Maybe the kiss-kiss of the cultural greeting just gets carried away with this guy.

(I later have to file a complaint and move out of the Airbnb midway through the 10-day reservation after feeling unsafe.)

Money Robbed. Hay Que ver, que ver.

My luggage arrives from Málaga to La Línea on the Monday after my Friday arrival.

A couple days later I discover the 200€ cash I had stowed away within the luggage is gone. (“¡Hay que ver!” as we say.) Lessons learned. Pro tip: Always carry cash with you on hand!

It’s unclear as to whether the money was stolen at the airport or at the Airbnb.