1) My taxes.
Yes, my taxes.
Americans, I ask you, is this nirvana?:
The Spanish ministry to which you pay your taxes does your taxes for you, sends you a draft, and offers you the option of simply verifying it, online.
OK, Spaniards, I know it might make sense to spend some time doing your taxes just the way you want, but with a financial life as utterly simple as mine in Spain, and money coming back, la renta 2005, for me, has been a pleasure.
2) Heavenly apricots
I don't care what residency form they throw at me, two of these tiny, sweet, exquisite apricots I've only found in Spain, and I'm over it.
3) The healthcare system
Well, no, in fact I didn't go to the doctor when I sprained my ankle. But I've sprained it before, and as a Spanish friend says, sometimes I can still be "American". Going to an emergency room in the States is a hassle you see, all those forms and a long wait amongst the coughing and infirm. But yesterday, Irish hillclimbing on my mind, I hobbled into the local clinic of my private insurance company to ask, well, why I was still hobbling. After a quick swipe of my insurance card and ten minutes in a lovely, quiet waiting room, a thoroughly unstressed doctor suggested I simply be patient. (And convey to my cruel mother, that, no, my advanced age was NOT the cause of my sudden inability to heal a sprain as quickly as I used to.)
And yes, I suppose all of that and a tasty bite of morcilla do make up for the Inca trail to self employment.
Now where are did I put those apricots?