The Boy and The Coconut Tree

It is August and it is raining and reminds me of Winter and this is the English summer in action. Yesterday was 32c and sunny and I have the farmers tan to prove it. My arms and lower legs are reddish brown and my upper arms and chest are as white as they day I arrived on earth (that makes me sound like some alien visitor when I should have just said "born") As I sit here waiting for one of my Spanish students, Davinia, I am reading her account of a Spanish novel, El Tiempo Entre Costuras,  and it makes me want to travel so much.  I was feeling all sentimental today. I arrived back in England 1 year ago this week and that first week was an interesting week of good and bad.  My dad's brother, uncle John died after a long battle with lung cancer but I was lucky enough to see him a few days before he died and have the usual, uncle taking the piss out of a nephew, conversations. That week I also spent some quality time with my parents, my sisters and my nieces and ne...

It could be said that I have had more comebacks than Cher and maybe that is true and maybe I have more comebacks and swansongs left in me yet,who nows, we should never set ourselves limits, they never work, humans, especially me, are always destined to push boundaries, limits, bend rules and test the waters a little. Its in my DNA and it is the way I was raised (thank you to my parents who have taught me never to feel too sorry for myself and have taught me that I am never alone!) So I returned to England 38 days ago and the jury is still out on my decision. I am sad to not be in Barcelona but I am happy not to be in Barcelona at the same time.  Barcelona for me was like having a whirlwind romance with the most handsome man in the world, I fell headfirst, I ignored his flaws, I ignored my own weaknesses and masked over the cracks with a smile and hoped the sunshine and latin/catalan atmosphere would sweep me up. It sure did then often dumped me on the rocks. If I had been 24...

After a very interesting final few days in Barcelona I am finally home. I have spent some time with my parents and some of my other family and despite having a broken computer and no phone I feel so much calmer than I did 48 hours ago. A few things I have learned over the past 14 months: Your family may not always be on your wavelength but they should always be the most important people in your life; The grass is always greener; Friends and money do not mix; When some people offer to help you and you feel unsure, don't accept it, go with your instincts. Some people only help you so they can then punish you over it at a later stage; When some people tell you to grow up, ignore them, growing up is over-rated, how we deal with things is an individual thing. A sense of fun does not mean immaturity; Some things go wrong in life and it isn't always your fault. I am now going to spend the day with one of my sisters, give my mum some computer lessons and visit my uncle who h...

If there were ever anyone who has thoroughly tested the idiom "the grass is always greener" it has to be me. I have jumped over more fences into more gardens in the past 22 years than I care to count. I am not even sure why! It started in 1992 or so when university ended as did the cozy cocoon like life I had with my friends. It ended abruptly on a June morning in 1992 as my Dad woke me from my sleep. I was asleep on the sofa in my tuxedo, hungover. It had been the last night of university, the Summer Ball,  The summer ball with Penny, Kirsteen and Mathew it was fantastic. We all sat in a park and watched the sunrise, the first day of our new, adult, post graduate lives. I remember the drive home, 5 hours of hangover hell, I was so sad. I realized life was never going to be the same and I have spent the past 22 years looking for something like it, a security blanket, an adult life I can feel comfortable with. I've never really found it. One of my students is a ...

I wrote this months ago when I was teaching a lovely lady called Rosa. She was born blind and also has autism but was one of my most lively students. I waited until my classes with her ended before publishing this. High on a hill, far above the centre of Barcelona sits Rosa, Rosa sits in eternal darkness yet her life is as full of light as anyone. Rosa loves god and she believes he loves her. Rosa sees things we cannot see. Rosa refuses to walk with a stick or with a guide dog, she relies on her other senses and the kindness of the good people of Barcelona. If only I could do the same. Rosa loves music, she loves the Carpenters and their songs of love and broken hearts, feelings Rosa may never experience. Rosa was my student for 7 months until it was decided for her that she was too stressed to have lessons. I learnt more from Rosa than she did from me. A Saint Jordi Rose for Rosa Rosa still loves a god that allowed her to be born blind and allowed her brother to be blind and...

 It has been so long since I wrote in my blog. I was trying to find the specific reason/ or reasons for not writing and I have none. Life is what happened. Barcelona life has swept me up in her arms and I am living it. I rarely had time to write a blog when I lived in London and the same goes for Barcelona. It has been 9 months today since I arrived and I've now got into a stride which I didn't expect and I am no longer looking for the exit sign. That has to be good. What is also happening is I am learning a lot about myself, even at 44 there is a lot to learn. I gave my life a mini audit over Christmas. I realized what was important and what wasn't. I've learned to worry about the people who worry about me and nothing more. I've learned to enjoy the things that life throws my way and not worry about the things I am missing. We are masters of our own destiny and I feel I am more of a master than most. Early evening looking to Mount Tibidabo, March 7 ...

As I have my 2 hour lunch break in a café on this cold windy day (needed a scarf today) I am watching the world go by as usual. Central Barcelona is a great mix of people. Next to me are 2 Russian girls who have lip implants, either that or they are having a bad allergic reaction to the coffee. Across from me is a Japanese couple and the guy is wearing a backpack that is taller than me. His back must be made of steel to carry that around with him all day. Winter has finally arrived here in Barcelona, last week it was 20c, today it is 11c and the locals are dressed as if they lived in Siberia. It isn't that cold and the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I am dressed for Spring, they are dressed for the next ice age. Even those Russian girls had fur on, probably a favourite pet that recently died (it looked like rabbit though they acted as if was mink). They begin the Christmas festivities early here too. The lights are going up, the plastic snowmen and santa clauses are ...

It has happened to me before, in a village in Italy. I was wandering around a small shop and the old couple who ran the place started speaking to my friend Luca about me. I heard the word "americano" a few times and I heard him laughing. They thought I was an American tourist. Not that I was offended but I was more concerned at why they didn't think I looked like an Englishman. That was in 1997 and it happened to me again in Cambodia and in Vietnam and once in the USA which was very bizarre.  Me looking very non American at Montserrat How an American could mistake me for an American after hearing me talk is a mystery to me. It happened to me last week in Barcelona thus my little story. I am very British/English. My teeth aren't whiter than snow, I am not obese, I am not loud, well I am not THAT loud. I don't wear golfing clothes on holiday and I am probably way to left wing and liberal to ever be accepted by the political class in the USA but yet agai...

My love affair with budget airlines began and ended in a single day in 2009 when I travelled to Cyprus with Easyjet. My 7am flight was overbooked and me and 20 other people were told to wait for the 5pm flight, losing a day of our holidays and no compensation offered. Gatwick airport is not the nicest airport at the best of times but on a normal day you would rarely spend more than 2 hours there, I had to spend 12 hours there. The Easyjet desk forgot EU rules on delays and tried to shrug it off as as computer error and expected 20 people, including kids, to fend for themselves for 12 hours, little did they know that armed with my LLM in International Law and my law book I had informed my fellow passengers about the rules so eventually we were all given £15 to spend on food and drink and after 2 complaint emails to Easyjet I was offered a free change of flight if I wanted to extend my stay in Cyprus, I didn't, Paphos is a dump. So it has been 4 years since I've used a budget ai...

I had dinner last night at a restaurant/café near to where I am staying in the centre of Barcelona, on Gran Via de Catalanes. I sat outside to watch the world go by as the restaurant was close to Urgull metro. Dinner was not worth mentioning, a bog standard fixed price menu, 11 euros; I don’t recall what I had. I do remember the events and sights around me though. To my right sat an older English couple who had ordered a lot of food, enough Paella for 4 people and various other things. They ate for a while, I heard raised voice in, what I think was, a Birmingham accent then the woman wandered off in a bad mood, I presume to her hotel but she seemed unsure. The man continued to eat and looked more relaxed than he had before the argument. The restaurant was getting busier and by 930pm all the tables on the terrace were full. Now they call it a terrace but really it is the pavement with some chairs and tables, terrace is far too grand a word for the reality of sitting a metre away ...

I began writing about Catalonia   in June 2013 when I first arrived and have met many Catalans since then, people from both sides of the political spectrum and what I am sensing now, 10 months later, is an increasing sense of frustration, anger and possibly worse.   One thing I have learned from my many travels is never to get involved in the politics or political debate of the country that happens to be my host at that time. Australian politics never interested me, it is democracy, it works, and the political debate is rough and ready and similar to the politics of my home country. The USA was more complex and there always seemed to be more division and anger between opposing sides. If I said the wrong thing, or liked the wrong president then I could be ostracized as happened at a cocktail party in Boston in 2000 when I commented on how good Clinton had been and how GW Bush made me shudder. I am sure historians will back me up one day. In Vietnam, political debate or...

We are already 6 days into April, it is cold outside and my big move is only 2 months away and right now I am incredibly nervous about the whole thing. I think my recent visit to my family has given me a dose of nerves. Being with my family is lovely but it often makes me feel like a slight outsider. I left my family home 25 years ago this September to go to University. I returned for a year and that was unsettling for us all as I came out to my family in those 12 months and they say moving house or the death of a relative is stressful, try coming out to your mother the week of her birthday, now that is hard!  I don't feel as if you can ever truly go back, you are there, but you are not fully the person you were before you left, and neither are they. So my visit home was lovely, it is important that I never forget where I am from and who I am but I never feel like I fully belong and if I stayed there more than 5 days I would go crazy and so would they. It is strange but I li...