Home sweet "home".

After 3 months bouncing half way around the world it was time to return to Europe. As I boarded my Emirates flight from Dubai (unaware of my now silver card Skywards status) I couldn't help but feel crushed. To compensate, I drank as much red wine as I could and watched a bunch of movies back to back.


On arrival in Birmingham, I was met by my Dad, beaming as his prodigal daughter had returned in one piece. I scowled, complained about the cold and demanded that my parents move somewhere else so I wouldn't have to visit them here and once I get back to Spain, I'm not going to visit so often because there are way too many other, warmer places to go. "It's been hot where you've been, love?" asked the taxi driver, I spluttered and began to fit.

At my parents' house (not the house I grew up in but one purchased after they were quite sure my sister and I would not attempt to return permanently) my mother greeted me with a hug and indicated that the kettle had boiled so therefore I could make myself a cup of roobios or other such non builder's tea.


Pleased as I was to be reunited with my family, I felt anxious, frustrated, exasperated, I had THE RAGE!

I spent the next few weeks sleeping in a proper bed, luxuriating in hot showers, reacquainting myself with my epilator, catching up with friends and indulging in a "fling". And in between all that, applying for jobs in Barcelona. I scoured recruitment websites filled in forms, sent CVs, waited, sent follow up emails and hoped. But I heard nothing. As my remaining savings began to dwindle, I became desperate. Many an unfortunate decision has been born out of desperation.


Fearing I would never return "home", I tentatively applied for some positions in Madrid. No sooner had I done so than my email inbox began to haemorrhage and iPhone was ringing off the hook!


Sure that this was as good a plan as any, I agreed to the interviews and booked a flight. Incredulous at the thought of setting foot in a place I had vowed never to revisit. Would the mountain top, overgrown village of freezing winters and arid summers want me back?

No. Despite my best efforts, I failed to secure gainful employment. I began to panic, as my bank balance dwindled to zero, I could feel the darkness creeping in.


What was I doing? No home, no money, no job. I swallowed my pride, it was time to return to England. The thought alone induced horrendous panic attacks and mood swings, between which, I applied for an extension to my unemployment benefit, filed my tax return and daydreamed about running away to South America - Europe is dead! I proclaimed.


It was in the midst of one of these manias I began to make my daydream become reality. Whilst surfing the net on my now handicapped MacBook (get well soon!) I began to think about Wall Street Institute, my previous employer, they'd got me into this.... Wait, they might just be able to get me out of it too. Before I knew it, I had accessed their global site and applied to every South American country they had a centre in. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!


Unthinkingly, I began to make enquires to anyone I knew from or had been to South America. Before I knew it, I was daydreaming of tango dancing in Buenos Aires and marrying a ranchero. But it was just a dream, right? So I continued to half heartedly apply for jobs in Madrid despite having packed my stuff up ready to ship "home".


Then I got an email from WSI global Service Manager, did I fancy working in Nicaragua? Not really, but had they seen my application for Argentina? Yes, the national Service Manager will be in touch. Lisandro emailled requesting a Skype interview.


We talked, we joked, we laughed, he offered me a job, I thought I misheard.


But just like that I was playing Gotan Project on repeat and stalking the Lonely Planet website. There was something in the air....

As if by magic I secured a non too legal job, and began looking for flights and a means of returning my boxes of crap to my parents' garage (I could imagine their joy!). 

No matter how atramentous life might seem at times, it's for a reason, you're on the wrong path because once you're on the right one, things couldn't be easier. 

Before I knew it, I had secured passage for my stuff, a flight to the UK and then..... a bargain flight to Buenos Aires! 

The remainder of July flew by as I crashed in various friends' homes, attempted to avoid the sales and occasionally teach some people to speak English. 

Then it was August, time to bid Madrid adiós after a final weekend of drunken debauchery and a night at the airport. 

I'd like to thank all of my Madrileño friends for storing my stuff, opening their homes to me and along with my family and friends around the world, helping me to keep the faith!

Next stop my new home, Buenos Aires....

Oh, and my MacBook is all better!