Almost 5 moths ago, I quit my Barcelona life and moved to the English countryside. I left with many good wishes, paired with several jokey voices warning me to wrap up, kiss the sun goodbye or unwarrantably tell me they could NEVER do it. I was welcomed to East Sussex with plenty of smiles from loved ones, but whenever I encounter someone new, they seemed very puzzled about my decision: “why on Earth would you want to leave Barcelona?” they ask, or simply say “You left Barcelona for the UK? REALLY?!”
I still don’t know how to answer any of those questions, in a way I’m starting to label them as rhetorical . Although I guess, for the sake of clarity, it’s best if I explain why I left Barcelona in the first place.
While it is a beautiful city with gorgeous architecture, fantastic restaurants, and generally lovely weather, I grew tired of, daily, sharing my personal space with thousands of tourists. I ended up fed up of having to literally push them off me, when, in dozens, they covered the pavements, refusing to budge an inch during their holidays. I became a stressed-out Barcelona citizen, desperately trying to avoid them stepping on your dog, get to work without being pushed to the road and run-over, or arrive home and free yourself from whatever you are carrying. I also developed a distaste for the hordes of pickpockets that exist to torment said tourists or give you an unnecessary fright while you walk home after a night out.
Additionally, I have two dogs. Yes Barcelona is pretty dog-friendly, but it also has extremely busy streets and very few parks, that are either pay-per-visit (Güell), full of tourists (Ciutadella) or populated by policemen that busy themselves fining anyone with a chihuahua off the leash (Parc l’Estació del Nord), instead of aiding the poor lady who just got mugged in broad daylight.
So yes, Barcelona, wonderful at night, gorgeous in the sunshine, even when your sweat is dripping down your back and your landlord has just told you he’s evicting you so he can advertise your flat on Airbnb… it just wasn’t meant to be, and East Sussex called my name.
So here I am.
Yes, I did wrap up as it’s bloody nippy. It took its time, but the cold is finally here, and, unlike Barcelona, it is really, truly, undeniably freezing. There are no hipster, bang-on-trend, pop-up cafes I can walk to, but there are miles and miles of countryside, in which to stroll or run with my dogs, and my thighs have never looked better.
Yes, there is sun…lots of. When you live in the countryside, with few buildings around you and you work from home, you get to see that the sun does shine in England, quite brightly. My sunglasses are, as in Barcelona, always on me.
Additionally, I’m smiling more. It does get dark awfully early, but I get up at 7 am, walk the dogs, do yoga and by the time I’m sat at my desk it’s barely 9am. This gives me many hours and things to do until it’s – oh my God – 5pm and pitch black. Once darkness hits my town, the lack of street lighting means a mind-blowing starry sky shines down on me. It’s surprisingly light up there.
My Zara “working boots” are constantly caked in mud and surprisingly, haven’t broken yet. This means I haven’t completely morphed into countryside folk, donning practical green wellies and proper walking boots – but watch this space.
I love it here, I really do. Yes I miss certain things about Barcelona, such as its people, Daniela, Luli, Mila, the French girls, my editor, my Yoga buddies, and also wonderful places like Lataberna de Juanjo, but that city wasn’t for me. London is a short train ride away, and the city girl inside of me may need to go there occasionally. Brighton is even closer, so hipster cafes are there when I need them.
I still have no answers for those that quiz me on the “absurdity of leaving sunny Spain for the UK”, and I probably will never have a reply that pleases them – for the sake of dinner party amusement I’m working on a funny one. I don’t regret my decision, and I love my current lifestyle. East Sussex works for me, right now. I may never stay here for good, I may go back to Spain, or may even move to Australia. What I know is that I followed my gut instinct and it led me to a happier place. But my gut is mine, so listen to your own and do what you need to do.
Pictures: Fashion Limbo
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