Leaving Barcelona…


I´m leaving Barcelona, intent on starting a lucky streak, in search of my very own Shangrila. Somewhere in the mountains of Galicia, in proximity to the sea, I hope to find it. A haven of safety to call home for the rest of my days, surrounded by friendly, peace-loving people, who will accept me for …

A Day in Gandia II…


I´m sitting on a park bench reminiscing about times gone by. In front of me on the ground are loads of broken seed-shells of what they call Pipas here. People eat them by the bagload, nibbling them one by one, after having divested them of their shells with two deft little bites. I´ve never been …

A Day in Gandia…


This should have been posted long ago, but I did not have the money nor the time. I´m sitting in front of the Borgia church, as it is Sunday and the lottery office where I was begging earlier is closed. I made a friend yesterday, a Spaniard called Vicente, who is depressed over a broken …