This is one of the hardest things that I have had to write.   I have started close to a dozen times - and avoided writing on so many more occasions - and not been able to see it through.  I suppose that the core issue is that I just don’t want to face what I have to say: we have left Valencia; left our beloved Spain.
Why? How? Wherefore?  Good questions.  (And is there anyone out there still asking after such a long absence?)  I will do my best to explain.
Amending the …

In part one of this post, I gave some background into my national identity, or lack thereof.  I talked about the elusiveness of the moment in which it could be said that I became Canadian (having been taken to Canada from England as a child) and the decisive moment in which I later realized that Spain was home to a culture that felt like home to me.  What I didn’t do was answer my own question about why my wife and I felt compelled to relocate to Spain despite the …

Recently I wrote a post about my perception of whether or not I am an expat.  I was very happy to read the comments that followed and also keenly aware that my views on patriotism don’t sit easily with many people.  Since writing that post - and reading the comments that it inspired - my thoughts have been returning to the subject of patriotism and the concept of home time and time again and I just can’t help putting them down on paper, so to speak.  (I’ll miss the pen, …

Just the other day I heartily agreed with a friend of mine that the term ‘expat‘ isn’t a good description for people who choose to make their home in a foreign country.  For him the term is most closely associated with corporate employees who spend a year or two recreating their own country within the borders of another while waiting for their tour of duty to end; never learning more than a few words of their host culture’s language and little else about their surroundings.
And then I happened to notice …

Oscar, the nearly-three-year-old gourmand, has taken to the idea of going to the market - in this case one of Europe’s largest, the Mercado Central - on the way home from school.  Today he was particularly insistent that we go buy some strawberries and some fish.  What could we do but oblige?
Of course, Oscar isn’t very specific about his definition of fish, so he was perfectly happy when we bought some langostinos - prawns.  Well, I say that like it’s a simple matter of translating the word but, like most …

Part 1 of 3: How we were quickly convinced that life was conspiring to make us happy in Valencia