15 – A Free Spirit

The discussions which arose from Blog numbers 7 & 10 about where “home” is and what makes it “home” have made me think a great deal about how and why it is that I can feel so quickly content almost anywhere.  It made me think again about my mother’s extraordinary travel history, and wonder if I’ve inherited some sort of “travel gene” from her.

My mum’s mother had escaped the Russian Revolution as a child.  Mum herself was born in 1930 in a village outside Danzig when it was a Free City-State, so in that sense she was truly a child of the whole world, not constrained by national boundaries. Continue reading


“Conejo Blanco” photo challenge 1 – Looking Up

Well who knew that blogging was such a communal activity?  Turns out it’s NOT just a bunch of people sitting alone at their computers, sending their words out into the Blogosphere, never knowing if anyone reads their carefully-crafted prose.  Thanks to Marianne, who somehow found my first tentative steps into Spanish blogging, I have been able to connect with other bloggers about Andalucia, read their thoughts, stories and philosophies, and enjoy their photos. Continue reading

14 – A Question of Trust

“Would you buy a used car off this man?”  It’s the classic question of trust.

So you’ve moved into a strange village, in a foreign country – how do you know who to trust?  I was given various bits of advice when I put the word around that I wanted to buy a second-hand car: Continue reading


13 – Speaking Subjunctively …..

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have come.”  My friend Jenny used to teach French, and she says this sentence is a benchmark, an indicator.  If you can say it in another language without having to stop and backtrack a couple of times, you can more or less call yourself fluent, or at least competent. Continue reading


12 – Poco a Poco

Poco a poco.  Little by little.   I learned how to re-light my water-heater.  Push knob to summer setting and hold in while pressing the ignition underneath until it lights.  Release both knobs slowly.  Hot water again – hurrah! Continue reading


11 – Meeting the Brits

OK I admit it.  I’m judgemental.  I try not to be, but I am.   And sometimes at British airports in the queues for the Spanish Costas, I judge.  There are hen parties / stag parties heading for Benidorm,  There are screeching families heading for Torremolinos.  Continue reading


10 – Returning to Spain

Perfect timing.  More by luck than any planning, I’d been in England for the whole of the Olympics.  And like many, I’d gone from a level of almost total disinterest (and a large degree of cynicism) to becoming totally hooked on sports I would never normally watch.  Continue reading