Culture Shock Spain: How Life in Spain Rewired My Habits

When I moved to Spain, I thought the biggest challenge would be the paperwork or learning Spanish. I was wrong. The real challenge? Adapting to everyday life.
Culture Shock Spain hit me slowly. Not through dramatic events, but in the little things, the way people greet each other, the hours they eat, the way they live. These small surprises built up, challenged my assumptions, and eventually rewired my habits.

Here’s how living in Spain changed my daily routine, my mindset, and the way I connect with people, for better or worse.

In my home country, dinner at 7 PM was normal. In Spain? That’s when people are still finishing work. Dinner doesn’t even start before 9:30 PM.
At first, I was starving by 7 PM, secretly snacking and wondering how anyone survived the wait. But slowly, I adapted. Now, a light lunch at 2 PM, a coffee at 6 PM, and a late dinner feels… right?
Also, breakfast here is a joke. A coffee and toast? I used to have full meals! But guess what? I’ve started enjoying the light start, it keeps my energy stable.

Culture Shock Spain changed my entire eating schedule, and strangely, my digestion feels better too.

I’ll admit it. I laughed at the idea of “siesta” before coming here. Who closes their business for 3 hours in the middle of the day?

Turns out, almost everyone.

Shops, offices, even clinics close between 2 PM and 5 PM. And while not everyone takes a nap, this break in the day encourages people to go home, eat with family, and rest.

Back home, I would’ve used this time to run errands. Here? I’ve learned to slow down, to be okay with pauses, and to enjoy an afternoon café solo without guilt.

The first time a woman leaned in to kiss my cheek, I panicked. I thought, “Wait, is this normal?”

In Spain, it is.

Greetings here are personal. Friends kiss on the cheek, hug, touch your shoulder — it’s all part of the culture. And it’s not just physical — it’s emotional. People greet you with energy, with sincerity.

It took me a while, but now I love it. Culture Shock Spain turned me from a handshake guy into a cheek-kiss kind of person.

I grew up in a place where silence was polite. In Spain, if people aren’t talking loudly, laughing, or overlapping each other, are they even communicating?
I thought people were yelling at each other in cafés, but they were just excited. Passionate. Alive. I used to feel overwhelmed. Now? I join the noise.

Culture Shock Spain taught me that noise means life. And life should be shared.

Back home, I lived for productivity. Long hours, late replies, and no weekends off felt normal.

In Spain? Work ends when work ends.

Even professionals take long lunch breaks, disconnect on weekends, and take vacation seriously. You’ll rarely find people replying to emails at 10 PM — unless they’re in trouble.

At first, I judged it. Now, I envy it. I adopted it. I’ve learned to put my phone down and enjoy the moment.

If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s Spain’s love for paperwork. But even that has taught me patience.
From empadronamiento to cita previa, I’ve stood in long lines, waited for weeks, and printed the same form five times, just in case.
I used to get angry. Now I take a deep breath, bring extra copies, and remind myself: “This is Spain. Nothing is fast. But it will get done.”

Need help surviving Spanish paperwork?
This guide on Spain’s bureaucracy might save your sanity.

Back home, social plans were formal. You had to plan days. In Spain?
Someone can say “wanna grab a beer?” and you’ll be out the door in five minutes.
At first, this made me anxious. Now, I love it.
Spontaneous tapas nights. Coffee after a random walk. Sunday beach trips are organized in one group chat.

Culture Shock Spain helped me say yes more — and live more.

Culture shock felt uncomfortable at first, like my identity was being challenged. But really, it was being expanded. Spain didn’t erase who I was; it added to it.

Now, I’m a mix of both worlds. I still love rice with curry, but I crave pan con tomate. I still enjoy quiet, but I don’t mind loud conversations anymore. And I’ve learned that adapting doesn’t mean forgetting, it means growing.