Most people think relocation is about choosing a new country. I think relocation is about choosing a completely different everyday life. Everyone talks about how exciting it is to move abroad. They talk about beautiful cities, better weather and food, new opportunities, and starting over. What people don’t talk about nearly enough is what happens after the excitement wears off and real life begins. 

I’ve relocated four times in my life, most recently to Costa del Sol in Spain. Along the way I’ve met many people who have also relocated, and I’ve realized that while every story is different, many of the challenges are similar. Today I’d like to share five things that I think many people don’t really consider before deciding to relocate to another city or another country. Because relocation isn’t for everyone. And that’s perfectly okay.

When I first saw the Rock of Gibraltar, it was the afternoon of our very first day in Spain, and that moment, although quiet and almost accidental, stayed with me much longer than I expected.

The apartment we had rented for a week was meant to be a temporary landing place, a peaceful pause after an intense year of planning, followed by several especially demanding weeks of packing and moving overseas from the United States to Spain. It was the kind of space where you finally allow yourself to exhale, to sit with the reality of what just happened, and to slowly begin absorbing a completely new environment.

What neither of us expected was the view.

From the terrace, almost unexpectedly and without any prior mention in the listing, the Rock of Gibraltar appeared in the distance, as if it had always been there waiting, quietly included but never announced. I was immediately mesmerized. There was something about its shape: rising, defined, almost sculptural that drew my attention in a way that felt both instinctive and impossible to ignore. It simply held my attention for a moment where I felt almost indifferent to everything else around me, as if the usual flow of thoughts had briefly stepped aside.

“How do you eat this? What is this product? Is it good?”

These are the types of questions I find myself asking, sometimes out loud, sometimes through Google, every time I go grocery shopping in Spain. And while it may seem like a small, almost trivial detail, it actually represents something much bigger: the everyday reality of relocation and the process of learning how to settle in abroad.

Thanks to technology, overcoming culture shock, at least when it comes to understanding food and daily essentials, has become easier. But even with all the tools available, the experience itself still requires time, patience, and a willingness to feel unfamiliar.

During the first several months after starting over in a new country, there were moments when I would stand in the middle of the aisle in the grocery stores just a little longer than usual, holding a product in my hands, trying to understand what it was and would it feel familiar, or would become part of my routine.

Trial and error becomes part of the process.

Choosing what will become your favorite food, what fits your routine, what feels comforting, it all takes longer than you expect, and that’s part of adapting to expat life.

It was my first morning in Barcelona, and I left the hostel early, stepping into the streets to begin exploring this modern, enigmatic city on my own, not fully knowing yet what the day would bring, but already feeling a quiet sense of anticipation that comes with solo travel.

I was staying in the downtown area, walking distance from La Rambla, and the noise of the street immediately washed over me: the sounds of cars, scooters, motorcycles moving in constant rhythm, conversations in Spanish and Catalan blending into the background, and bakeries already open, serving those who needed their morning coffee and something soft and warm to begin the day. And instead of feeling irritated, as I would have been in a city I lived before, I felt unexpectedly energized by it.

The warm Spanish sun played with the streets in a way that felt very intentional, shifting through the leaves of the trees and casting moving patterns of light and shadow, creating a sense of liveliness. And in that moment, I realized something very clearly.

I wasn’t alone.

Even though this was, in every practical sense, a solo travel experience, I did not feel alone, because in a city that is alive from early morning to late at night, solitude takes on a completely different meaning, one that feels full rather than empty.

Living in different cultures is always filled with “ooops” and “wow” moments. One of those “ooops” moments happened when I lived in Mexico, and that moment was all about superstitions. If you grew up in a Slavic culture like I did, you know superstitions are a big deal. They’re ingrained in everyday life, you don’t even question them. One I grew up with was this:

If you leave your home, but then realize you forgot something and have to go back inside, you must look in the mirror and say “Hello” three times before leaving again. If you don’t? Bad luck for the day. No exceptions.

Fast forward to my time in Cancun, Mexico. One day, a friend and I were heading out when she suddenly remembered she forgot her sunglasses. As she turned back, I casually mentioned the superstition:

“Oh, you know, there’s this thing where you should look in the mirror and say ‘Hello’ three times before leaving again, otherwise, no luck for you today.”

She looked at me and burst out laughing, telling me there was nothing like that in Mexico. Later that afternoon, we ended up having a long conversation about how different cultures hold onto completely different beliefs, some serious, some ridiculous. That moment stuck with me and made me ask myself:

Wait… do superstitions only work in specific parts of the world? And if that’s the case, are they even real?

What’s considered completely normal in one place might be unfamiliar or even strange in another. Living in different cultures teaches you that there’s no single “right” way to do things, just different ways.

The first soft rays of sunlight appear on the horizon, and I pull back the curtain to let them spill into the room, breathing in that unmistakable freshness of morning on the Costa del Sol. Clouds drift across the sky in playful shapes and shifting colors, gathering around the rising sun like dancers circling a spotlight. Seagulls swoop and chatter overhead, their voices weaving into the rhythm of dawn, making it impossible not to pause and notice.

It was here in Marbella, during that very first week after relocating to Spain, that my husband and I found ourselves completely still, just watching the sunrise. Something so ordinary and yet so deeply beautiful. And in that simple moment, I felt a quiet reminder that a beautiful life isn’t defined by extravagance; it’s made of small moments that catch your breath and connect you back to yourself. 

Sunrises are never the same, perhaps that’s what makes them magical and perhaps that is one of the simplest ways to make your life better every single day.

Our first breakfast in Spain, with La Concha mountain stretching majestically before us and the sun warming our table, was a gentle reminder to slow down. To step away from the constant rush for more: more things, more speed, more proof and simply notice, breathe, and savor.

Moving to Spain was not about running away. It was about moving toward something: curiosity, difference, and the quiet excitement of discovering a new rhythm of life. You move to a different country not to replicate what you already know, but to explore what you don’t. To experience contrast. To learn from it. This is the essence of slow living: choosing depth over speed, presence over productivity.