An Honest Letter to the Woman Who Just Moved Abroad

Dear you,

I don't know your name, and I don't know which airport you landed in. Maybe you came for marriage, maybe for work, maybe because your family is here and you followed love across a border. But if you are reading this in your first weeks somewhere new, with a new address you still have to spell out slowly, I want you to have a letter I would have kept.

Seven years ago I arrived in Barcelona. Before that came a detour through Cape Town, South Africa and a long stretch of waiting when I honestly wasn't sure we would make it here at all. So when I say I remember the beginning, I mean it.

I remember looking around and thinking how much there was to look forward to. Everything felt new. Then I noticed how quiet it was, and I missed the warmth of home. I was happy to be in Spain and still felt alone here sometimes.

If I could talk to myself in that first month, I would say: you can be excited about the life ahead of you and still miss the life you left. Give yourself time. Ask questions when you don’t understand how something works. Find people you can talk to. Learn how things are done here, and keep the parts of yourself that feel like home.

If you never had a honeymoon phase, nothing is wrong with you

You have probably heard the story that moving abroad starts with excitement, then the crash comes, then you slowly recover. The idea goes back to researchers in the 1950s and 60s who described culture shock as a kind of curve. It's a neat picture. It just isn't everybody's experience.

One study followed Japanese students in New Zealand and found that their adjustment difficulties were greatest when they arrived and eased over time (Ward and colleagues, International Journal of Intercultural Relations). That does not tell every migrant's story, but it does remind us that the neat honeymoon curve is not a rule.

So if you skipped the excitement and went straight to tired, confused and a little lost, please don't read that as proof you made the wrong choice. You are not behind. You are early.

The first month, the practical part

Feelings are real, but paperwork is also real, and some of the heaviness of the first month comes from things being unsorted. If you are in Spain, these are the ones I would put at the top of your list.

Register your address at the town hall. In Spain this is called the padrón (empadronamiento), and it matters more than it sounds. Barcelona City Council's own guidance explains that registering is free, applies to everyone who lives in the city, and is used for steps such as applying for your public health card and enrolling children in school (Barcelona International Welcome). If you are outside Barcelona, your own ayuntamiento will have its version.

Ask your local health centre what you need to apply for a health card, so the first time you need a doctor isn't also the first time you are figuring out how the system works.

If your residence paperwork is still in progress, keep every document in one folder, physical and digital. I wrote about that experience with a Nigerian passport in my Spain family visa guide, including the parts nobody warns you about.

I started working almost as soon as I arrived. I got so caught up in work that I didn’t realise my visa had expired until after the date had passed. I thought I could sort it out quickly, but the paperwork took longer than I expected, and some things had to wait while I got it sorted.

If I could go back, I’d put the expiry date in my calendar and set an earlier reminder to check what I needed to do for my own situation. That’s one small thing you can do today if you’re still finding your feet.

Then add three smaller things that do more for your heart than any document. One language class, even a free one, even once a week. One routine that takes you out of the house at the same time every week, so the city starts to recognise you. And one person you can call when the day goes wrong, whether they are here or back home.

The small surprises nobody warns you about

Some of what catches you off guard won't be big at all. When I arrived, I could not understand how dinner was starting at 9pm. Now eating early feels strange to me. I couldn't understand why everything here needed a plan, and today I plan my week like a local. I walked to the supermarket in my fitted Nigerian outfit and my husband looked at me as if I was heading to a party.

I share them because the small things are often what make you feel most foreign. Not the visa office, but the dinner table. Not the language exam, but the moment you realise everyone else already knows the unwritten rules.

And here is the part I most want you to hear: you will adapt, but adapting doesn't have to mean erasing yourself. I found my own middle ground with the clothes. You will find yours with whatever it is for you.

The loneliness is real, and it is not forever

I won't pretend this part is easy. Some days you will miss particular people, particular food, a kind of humour nobody here needs explained. I wrote about what loneliness after moving abroad really felt like for me, because I think too many women carry it quietly and assume they are failing.

If food is one of the ways home reaches you, start looking now for the shop or the kitchen that feels familiar. Finding Nigerian food in Barcelona did more for me than I expected, and I wrote about finding food from home in Barcelona.

If you moved for marriage, some of what you are feeling may be about building a home and a partnership in a culture that isn't fully yours yet. These two posts might meet you there: things no one tells you about being a wife abroad and the unspoken rules of marrying into a Spanish family.

And over time, you may notice something else: the people back home won't always understand the woman you are becoming here. That's normal too, and I wrote about it in why you stop explaining your life abroad.

What I want you to remember

You are not too slow. You are not ungrateful for finding it hard. You are a woman building a whole life from the ground up, often while other people expect you to already be fine.

Start with the next practical thing you can sort out. Find a little bit of language, one routine and one person you can call. And give yourself permission to keep the parts of you that came with you.

With love from Barcelona,

Edith

If you have been abroad a while, what is the one line you wish someone had written to you in your first month? Leave it in the comments. The woman who just landed might need to read it today.