Relocating from London to Barcelona
“What is the worst that could happen? You will come back to London and we will welcome you with open arms.” One of my friends said that to me when in August 2013 I shared the news that after eight years of living in London I will be relocating to Barcelona. Some friends in true British style had to bring up the weather, “Fed up with the rain, eh?” I usually laughed along but joking aside, I have to admit that telling people close to my heart about the decision to move was difficult. While on the phone to my grandma I had to stop our conversation and ask, “Why are you crying?” as I heard her sobbing and I could not understand the reason. I would be still living in Europe as my wild plans of moving to Asia have not worked out (at least not this time!) and it would not change if she sees me more or less in any way. “I know that you love London so much. It is like a stamp on you.” Her answer really struck a chord and stayed with me.
A stamp or a mark?
After all, there were reasons I wanted to relocate, however it was never running away. I had this desire to run towards the new, the fresh and the undiscovered and I knew the price. I was leaving behind great friends, who always offered me help and support when I needed it. I was giving up my favourite places and London’s incredible and diverse offering in terms of art and culture, my creative oxygen, to yet again jump into the unknown.
The mistakes and failures are a part of my life. They feel almost integrated into any decisions I make and challenges I set my mind on so I just learned to embrace them. I do not want to float through life. I believe that if you “play safe” and do not push your limits this is what you get. A pleasant life. No cuts, no bruises and equally no thrills.
I am a Londoner at heart but I moved to the UK from Poznań, a city situated in western Poland. Although it now feels like ages ago I will never forget that very warm Friday in June 2005 when my parents and friends came to the coach station to say their goodbyes. I still remember the lump in my throat and few tears. Fast forward eight years and couple of months and I was in the cab going to the airport with that familiar lump in my throat but the tears were saved for the days and weeks to come. Some things will never change I suppose or maybe it is just in the family? One way ticket. Without a safety net.