The parakeets have disappeared. We thought they were permanent residents of the palm trees here, but it turns out they only stay for the winter—just like us. We noticed their absence a few weeks ago. It seemed to be around the same time that the last remnants of palm-date bunches had finally fallen to the ground, and suddenly we missed our little green neighbors. It’s not that they made beautiful music. Parakeets squawk rather than sing, but their kelly green finery was a treat for eyes more accustomed to shades of brown, black, and red on the New England birds we grew up with. 

There is much more we will miss about Segur de Calafell: the friends we’ve made nearby, the sparkling Mediterranean, the warm sunshine, the everpresent sound of waves, the Friday farmers’ market, the smell of bread baking in the supermarket below us, and the strong, hot showers in this apartment. And some we won’t: the constant construction up the block (and sometimes downstairs!); the yapping dogs whose owners leave them outside while shopping in the supermarket downstairs; the weak-flushing toilets that don’t, er, do their job; the cigarette smoke wafting over from our neighbors’ balcony. 

We have learned a lot about what’s important to us in picking a place for an extended stay—of the criteria we used to choose Segur, which turned out to be important and which didn’t? For example, relatively easy access to an airport and public transportation was something we wanted to find, and it proved to be a cornerstone for our time here. Not only could we use it to continue our travels in Spain—whether flying to the islands and Malaga or taking high-speed rail to Madrid—but it made it much easier for overseas visitors to come see us.

We wanted a sense of space in the apartment we chose, and we found that here. We don’t need a lot of square footage, but did not want to feel closed in. We saw plenty of apartments with small, dark kitchens in the back, tiny bedrooms, and overstuffed couches crammed into small spaces. This one has just enough furniture to be comfortable but not so much as to feel crowded, and the kitchen opens into a large living area with expansive windows. There’s a sense of light and air and space that has made us feel like we’re outside even in the winter. We loved having enough bedrooms for guests and being able to rent an apartment next door to accommodate a nine-person family reunion. This checkbox stays on the list.

We love the central mercados (indoor street markets) in Spain, and wanted to be near one. Segur does not have a mercado, but in the end, we found that the combination of the weekly outdoor veggie-and-fruit market, a well-stocked supermarket downstairs, and mercados in several nearby towns was just fine. And in some ways, it made our visits to other towns’ mercados more special since we didn’t have our own. So, this wish is still on our list but we now know there are other ways to fulfill it.

On the other side, we wanted to be near a language school to continue our Spanish learning, and did not find that here. There’s a school 20 minutes away but it didn’t offer especially convenient or flexible courses and we were traveling for a week or more at least once a month. Could we have prioritized it? Yes, but instead we chose to prioritize seeing more of the country over learning the language. As a result, online courses and occasional conversations with Spaniards are all we’ve done, and our language skills have… well, let’s just say they have not leapt ahead as we had hoped they would. Knowing that may change our priorities when we choose our next temporary home. 

We definitely wanted quiet over city noise, but our years in the suburbs hearing the disruptive drone of lawn-care machines should have taught us that cities are not the only noisy places. Nevertheless, noise in cities is more expected. Here most nights are so quiet we can hear the waves breaking on the beach, but in the early mornings, the waves are drowned out a few times a week by the roar of street cleaners and clanking of trucks being unloaded. And we’ve learned that offseason construction is a necessary evil in a beach town. Being ready for the peak summer season here requires residents to listen to drills, hammers, and cranes during the off-season. I guess we’ve learned that no place can fulfill every wish and there are some things you just can’t know in advance.

Much has changed in the six months we’ve lived in Segur de Calafell. When we arrived, we could see the sun rise and set over the Mediterranean from our deck. Now its path has widened in both directions, peeking up from behind the apartment building to our left and setting behind another row of buildings to our right. We barely ever used our deck January through April, but during May it has become a breezy extension of our living space. The beaches rarely had people on them for most of our time here, but now (on weekends especially) the beaches are buzzing with activity. It was hard to find an open helado (ice cream) shop all winter and now we can choose from about five in walking distance.

When we started this Ten Year Travels plan, our intent was to stay in a new place each year for a full year. So far we haven’t managed to stay that long—not only are visas a complicating factor, but if we stayed a full year everywhere, when would we see family and friends? (Other than when they make the effort to come see us.) The original idea was to learn about the rhythm of a place in a way that we thought could only be accomplished by living there through all the seasons. At some point we may achieve that, but for now we are beginning to see the rhythms here, even after only six months. And in some ways, we’re content to be moving on.

Last weekend, we woke up at 3am to the noise of hollering beach partiers and revving motorcycles. Walking along the paseo in more-densely packed Calafell felt like a New Jersey boardwalk. Workers have erected pop-up cabana bars on the beach, and now there’s an eight-person-capacity trampoline rig set up across the street. Even if the tripled rent in the high season weren’t a factor (and it is), I’m not sure we could bear to see what the crowds descending on our quiet little Segur de Calafell would do to it. I imagine that’s just how the year-round residents of any resort area must feel. 

So now we begin our final road trip on the Iberian peninsula, and as always, we are sad to be leaving where we are and excited about where we are going. We will miss the comforts of home that we have here and hungrily embrace the liberating, curiosity-sating, mind-opening variety of new places. And what we’ve learned and enjoyed here will tag along with us.

* Those who speak Catalan will know that the title of this post is not a rhyme. I would call it visual symmetry. Calafell is pronounced something like Cah-lah-fey. So Calafell Away would be a true phonetic rhyme, but not nearly as nice to look at as Calafell Farewell!