‘I’ve been a Pagan Witch since I was 5 and I’ve been sent to guard the magic square’ said the guy next to me, as I sat cross-legged in a small but perfectly traditional apartment in the heart of Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter. I looked around at everyone else’s expressions but they didn’t flinch. Hmm …
Well meaning folk sit down and chat to me… in Spanish. I die a little inside, give them my biggest grin and tell them I don’t understand (no entiendo), I don’t speak Spanish (no hablo Español) I’m sorry (Lo siento) I’m learning (estoy aprendiendo). Then I whip out my pocket book of Spanish grammar …
I knew this move to Barcelona was going to push me out of my comfort zone. It’s a big step to move country, house and job into a new land where your native language isn’t spoken. I’m here on my own, no network of friends, no UK TV or radio – I can’t understand …
Continue reading “White Noise… Settling into a Foreign Land”
I’m here, I’ve landed and I’m starting to acclimatise! It’s mid-October and the beaches are choca-block, because that’s right boys and girls the sun is shining here in Barcelona. It was a shaky start. My taxi driver from the airport knew no English, I knew no Spanish. He didn’t have a clue where I …
Continue reading “Moving to Barcelona… You Had Me at Picasso”
After winging my way around the world for a year I landed back in England, caught up with a few nearest and dearest but before I had time to unpack I was back on a plane and heading to ‘The White Isle’ for a long weekend of clubbing. A completely last minute thing, a …