I’ve been fortunate enough to have made some great friends over the years. I also count myself fortunate for leading a life that provides an interesting array of experiences and opportunities that have helped me grow as a person. That growth, and the many changes that come with it, mean that some friendships fade into the background as my life and those of the people I care about diverge and take us in different directions. It doesn’t lessen the affection and respect I feel – or that they feel, I hope – it just makes the occasional contacts denser as we struggle to catch each other up.

My first post on Ivan In Valencia was greeted with quite a few e-mails from distant friends wondering what in the world I was doing here. No one had ever heard me talk about Valencia before. Why? How? What’s the deal?

It was a curious blend of procrastination, frustration, determination and random chance – coupled with the awesome power of the internet (I am a total geek, by the way) – that brought us here.

From our limited vantage point in Canada, Barcelona seemed the best choice for our new home when we left back in June (2008). I had lived almost three years of twenties in Madrid and remained as enamoured of Spain as ever. We wanted a city, we wanted culture, we wanted the beach. Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona. Unlike many newcomers, I was aware of the unique cultural issues in Catalonia and had even studied Catalan – mine had never been tried out in real life, but I had a good basis. What could go wrong?

And the ironing board?

To be continued…