Coming home …

The evening light shines bright, giving everything in its path a metallic bronze shimmer. Palms line the avenue ahead and the smell of sea salt fills the heavy air. I amble along narrow side streets decked with an array of eccentric characters – the tourists laden with bags like small Greek donkeys, the old lady with her fluffy white cats dressed in colourful flower garlands, and the hip young dad cycling along with his baby daughter attached to a seat on his handlebars.

Having lived in five different countries on four different continents of the world, I’m not sure I quite know where home is anymore. But out of anywhere in the world I feel like I could belong, where I might be accepted, and somewhere I could actually stay and settle down – Barcelona would the place.

I moved to Barcelona for the first time back in 2005, I was young and I thought that there was no better city in the world, even though I’d already lived on three continents. Since then I have returned many times for visits, holidays and extended periods of stay – the city’s passion for life, quirky and funky persona drawing me back each time.

The city has changed in the fews years since I’ve been away, yet is still recognisable and somehow welcomes me back with familiar sights, sounds and smells. Having spent the best part of my first week back searching for an apartment to rent, I’m looking forward to reacquainting myself with home.