There truly is no place like home - your own home.

Well, that is the way I feel right now, after driving for the past three and a half hours to get out from that spit of a village in the mountains -Beas de Segura- and to get back to my adult life here in Valencia.

Some of you might wonder what made me leave my granny's home in such a rush since I was supposed to stay there until Sunday or Monday morning?

And I will, in turn, answer with a question, which I know is not the orthodox way to answer questions but it is quite appropriate in this case:

Have you ever felt like your relatives keep treating you like a 12 year-old despite the fact that you are hitting your early thirties, like my granny does to me? And what if they still threat you like the retarded 12 years-old that you never were, like my uncle does?

Well, I knew that you (if your family is from anywhere in the south of Spain) would understand me.


I made the mistake of taking my dog with my when visiting my relatives (again, you will understand if your family is from Andalucia), and today after lunch the situation reached a point where either I leave in a rush (granma crying at the door and all) or I become an statistic at the register of murderers that killed their own kind... an easy choice, don't you think?

And I thank our Lord (whichever really, since I'm not a believer...) that I have my driving licence and a car so that I would not need to wait until the next bus out of Nightmare the following morning...

So here I am now, back at my own home, everything is clean, and empty, there is nothing to eat and no chance of getting anything until tomorrow (today is Spain's national day and hence everything is closed) and I would not change being here now for anything in the world.

As I said, there truly is no place your one's onw home. Sweet, sweet home.