25 years ago today - November 3rd, 2011 - I set foot in Spain for the first time. Funny, I always knew I’d end up here, but my arrival wasn’t planned.
As it turned out, a ship I was performing on dropped me off here in Málaga at the end of a contract that had been rerouted because apparently Prince Andrew had chartered it, but then cancelled because of security risks shortly after 9/11. And I was only on that ship because my Hong Kong gig had been cancelled due to the same fears, and closed airspace.
I'd been hanging out in Paris before the scheduled Hong Kong gig when the Twin Towers went down, and I was only there because a psychic told me to go there to ‘reclaim my past life’ (yes, I went on a whim, not something I’d usually do)… and I only followed that whim because I had French on my mind after another last-minute replacement gig I'd done in Tahiti that turned out to be a wild adventure.
In other words, it was a whirlwind of unexpected turns and detours that brought me here. I guess it was fate.
So ever since then, when things get cancelled or sidetracked, I figure it’s life guiding me in a new direction. And life in Spain is like that: you can make plans, but they don’t usually go as planned. Because something better is often in store.
Anyway, I’m grateful for my little Spanish life. I live in a seaside village. Life is slow. I hang my laundry out to dry, buy my fruits and veggies daily, bake my own bread, eat too many olives, and stop to talk to people on the street.
It’s easy to lose your ambition in such a place, but I’ve managed to carve out time to dream up projects and bring them to life the best I can, even though there's not even the slightest hint of music biz machinery in the midst. Fortunately, there’s no lack of talent here, and somehow I always have a gig, as well as wonderful students.
So, gracias, España.
