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Illustration by Jaimie Shelton
We pulled up to Vancouver International Airport with nine oversized suitcases and three tired but excited kids. It had taken a year of planning – securing visas, enrolling in schools, navigating tax implications, researching neighbourhoods, leasing an apartment and saying goodbye to family and friends. But we were finally ready. My wife Natasha and I, along with her mother and our three children in tow, were moving to Valencia, Spain.
When the agent charged us for only five of our nine suitcases, I smiled. It felt like the universe was rooting for us. It was a small gesture by the airline, but in the chaos of change, those small affirmations matter.
As an executive coach, I’ve spent years helping leaders navigate complexity. I’ve coached through restructures and during volatile periods. But nothing has taught me more about the realities of transformation – personally and professionally – than this experience.
Nearly two years later, as our adventure is coming to a close, here are the lessons that will stay with me.
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Our move wasn’t just about sunshine, paella or adventure. It was about giving our kids an experience that would shape their identity and world view. And yet, as we settled into this new life, I realized something: Transformation doesn’t always show immediate returns. In fact, it rarely does.
Our kids, aged 11, 9 and 7, are different now – more confident and capable. They navigate Valencia’s streets and buses with ease, walk to the grocery store alone and help each other in ways that surprise us. But the real impact? That will take years to emerge. And that’s the hardest part of any change.
People often ask if life feels easier or slower in Spain. The truth? Parenting is parenting. Conflict doesn’t disappear just because we’re surrounded by a 13th-century cathedral and Roman ruins.
Our daily life still includes school lunches, arguments over screens and trying to get out the door on time. In fact, those tasks are harder in a new language and culture. The context changed, but the fundamentals didn’t.
After walking the kids to school, Natasha and I often stop at our favourite café. We sit with our coffee and just take in the city: its architecture, its rhythm, the smell of fresh bread from nearby bakeries. These moments weren’t part of the “strategic plan,” but they’ve become some of the most meaningful.
Valencia has taught us to slow down. To notice. To let life unfold, rather than trying to control every piece of it.
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There have been days when Spain has tested every ounce of our patience. Booking appointments, navigating paperwork, grocery shopping – these things that were so easy back home now feel like endurance tests.
Bureaucracy in Spain moves at its own pace. Social norms differ. Customer service expectations are … different. But here’s the truth: Every meaningful transformation comes with friction. If it doesn’t, you’re probably playing it too safe.
Living abroad has stretched our relationship in ways we didn’t expect. Natasha and I have had moments of tension, loneliness and fatigue. It’s easy in high-stress periods to turn inward. But we’ve learned to keep turning toward each other instead.
We’ve developed the mantra “beside not against,” to remind ourselves that we’re on the same team – even when it doesn’t feel that way. That phrase has become our anchor.
I already know that years from now, we’ll talk about Spain with nostalgia. The crowded festivals, the late-night gelato walks, the sound of church bells echoing off stone walls. One day, it’ll be behind us. That awareness helps me stay present. It reminds me to savour the ordinary moments because they are the ones that matter most.
I loved travelling with Mom, but where had she picked up this exquisite silk scarf?
We’ve used this time abroad to travel extensively. Spain, France, Croatia, Egypt, Italy, Morocco, Greece … each trip has given our children new perspectives and brought us closer as a family. We ask questions such as, “What made you proud today?” or “What new thing did you try?”– questions that help us notice their growth in real time.
We’ve played board games in the French Alps, shared street food in Cairo and had long, silly conversations over late dinners in Rome. These are the connective tissues of our change together.
Natasha’s 77-year-old mom, Janet, joined us on this adventure without hesitation. She has thrived in ways none of us anticipated, and she has decided to stay in Valencia even after we return to Vancouver. Her willingness to embrace change has unlocked an entirely new chapter of independence and adventure in her life.
So what did I learn from uprooting our life and moving across the world?
Change is messy, hard and deeply human. It requires conviction, courage and a willingness to grow – often in uncomfortable ways. When you allow joy to lead alongside discipline, it’s always worth it.
Geoff Scales lives in North Vancouver.
