The One Thing Nobody Told Us About Moving to Spain
There is something you rarely think about when planning a move to Spain.
The people.
Not the Spanish people.
Just… people.
Like most people dreaming of life in the sun, we imagined lazy afternoons by the pool, walks along the beach, evenings at the local restaurant, and quiet mornings walking our dog through the beautiful streets of Pueblo Bravo in Ciudad Quesada.
What never crossed our minds was the human side of relocating.
We had already spent time in Spain and understood that Spanish culture differed from Irish culture. But the differences never seemed so great that they gave us cause for concern. Why would they?
Throughout my life I had lived in every kind of neighbourhood imaginable.
I grew up in a terraced house in suburban Dublin with wonderful neighbours. Later I moved to a quiet semi-detached home, then to a detached house on a busy road. Every place was different, yet the neighbours shared the same basic qualities. They were respectful, considerate and friendly.
Eventually we moved to the countryside in County Wexford, where our nearest neighbour was almost four kilometres away. Even there, people still greeted each other with warmth and courtesy.
I had experienced both close-knit communities and complete solitude.
Then we moved to Spain.
Dog Lovers
The first assumption I made was that anyone walking a dog must love dogs.
I was wrong.
Our Golden Labrador, Tilk, adored people. He naturally wandered towards anyone with a dog, expecting a friendly greeting. Within a week I realised that many people love only their own dog.
That surprised me.
Despite spending my career in hospitality and later psychology, I am naturally introverted. I don’t seek conversations and I’m rarely the first person to speak. Yet during those first few weeks I also discovered that sharing a language does not necessarily mean sharing warmth.
Speaking English
When I heard people speaking English, my instinct was to smile and say hello. The response was often indifference. Sometimes worse. Eventually Tilk and I completed our daily ten-kilometre walks saying nothing to anyone.
Oddly enough, that was exactly what I would have done back in Ireland. Only then did I realise something important. It wasn’t Spain that had changed. It was me. Somewhere in my mind, moving abroad had altered my own expectations of other people.
The Neighbours
Our next surprise came with the neighbours.
We bought into a gated community of twelve villas. When we arrived there was no gate and very few residents. Gradually the homes filled. Some became permanent residences while others became holiday homes.
One of the reasons we chose Ciudad Quesada was its diversity. Spaniards, Scandinavians, British, Irish and people from across Europe all live side by side.
It sounded ideal. In reality we encountered kindness, generosity and friendship. We also encountered rudeness, envy, aggression, disrespect and, sadly, homophobia. I had never imagined that such a small community could contain such a wide range of human behaviour.
One memory remains with me more than any other. The morning Tilk died. He collapsed on our terrace after his walk. I knelt beside him screaming in grief. Everyone heard. Nobody came. That moment changed how I viewed community.
Holiday Homes
The greatest challenge, however, became noise. Many neighbouring villas were rented to holidaymakers. Music would begin around nine in the morning and continue throughout the day. I completely understand that people come to Spain to enjoy themselves.
But this isn’t a holiday resort. It is also where people live, work and raise families. As a child my father never allowed loud music in our garden. “The neighbours don’t need to hear your music,” he would say. He was right.
Only after moving here did I realise how different Spanish construction is from what I had known in Ireland. Back home there were trees, grass, soil, carpets, curtains and hedges that naturally absorbed sound.
Here there are tiled terraces, swimming pools, concrete walls, glass and steel. Very little softens noise. The result is that many streets become natural amphitheatres. It was something we had never considered before buying our villa.
Starting Again
During COVID the atmosphere within our small street deteriorated to the point that we decided to move.
Ironically, we moved only a few hundred metres away. Our new villa brought new challenges.
The neighbours behind us belonged to a religious sect and were openly homophobic. They also played Gospel music continuously.
Twenty-four hours a day.
Seven days a week.
It wasn’t loud enough to complain about. It was simply always there, drifting across the warm evening air. Eventually we installed outdoor speakers and created the sound of flowing water on our terrace. Not to annoy anyone. Simply to reclaim a little peace.
Then there were the cars parked across narrow lanes, restricting access for emergency vehicles. Small things perhaps. But each one reflected the same issue. A lack of consideration for other people.
Why People Move Here
Another thing we never considered was why people move to Spain. We moved for the climate. Others come for work. Some retire. Some are escaping difficult chapters of their lives. Others buy holiday homes that later become short-term rentals.
Each group arrives with different expectations. Holidaymakers understandably want to enjoy themselves. Permanent residents simply want somewhere peaceful to live. Those two worlds do not always sit comfortably together.
Friendships
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all was friendship. As an introvert I found myself becoming friendly with people I would probably never have connected with in Ireland.
Looking back, many of those relationships were never sustainable. Some people were lonely, some needed something. While some simply wanted company until circumstances changed. Most of those friendships faded. Yet the experience taught me something about myself.
Moving abroad had quietly changed my own behaviour as much as it had changed my surroundings.
Living in Spain
We have now lived in Spain for seven years. We have no desire to return to Ireland. Spain is our home. We pay our taxes here, respect the laws, try to learn the language and accept that this is not Ireland. Nor should it be.
We don’t expect Spain to adapt to us. We chose to come here. That brings me to my final observation.
Entitlement.
It is easy for immigrants to arrive carrying expectations shaped by the country they left behind. People often expect Spain to work as their own country worked. But we are guests here. That simple truth is sometimes forgotten.
Despite everything we have experienced, we have also met remarkable people and formed friendships we will treasure for life.
Would we make the move again? Without hesitation.
The purpose of sharing our experience is not to discourage anyone from moving to Spain.
Quite the opposite. It is simply to point out that when we plan a new life abroad, we often spend months researching property, healthcare, taxation and climate.
Very few of us spend any time thinking about the people. Perhaps we should. Because when we understand what might lie ahead, there are fewer surprises. And fewer surprises make any new beginning a little easier.