Terima kasih teman-teman saya!

Dear fellow explorers,

Before the end of this year I wanted to thank all of you who have visited this, my first blog, and have taken the time to read it, enjoy it and and/or leave a comment (leave more comments, please!).

Thanks to all of you from Spain, UK, United States, Russia, Germany, Ghana, Bulgaria, Colombia, Singapore, and Australia who have visited these pages, have I forgotten someone? Let me know. Your presence is very much appreciated!


May the new months ahead cast their light upon those paths that lie deep within you, bringing new meaning, purpose and energy to your steps and a new spark to your eyes.

Be unashamedly happy. Namaste!

The message

Gandhi once said "My life is my message".

Dear fellow explorers, have you recovered from walking up and down the dunes of Fuerteventura? Did you get a chance to dive with your eyes into the blue blue Atlantic? Did you hear Lara Maria's laughter as it was being swayed by the breeze?

Last two weeks were very tough at work.I became ill before the end of the first week.I was thinking: "You will make it, two more days... you will make it, one more day...". I was surprised, when, in the midst of my struggle, someone seemed to whisper on my ear:
Have faith, have trust in yourself. You can overcome many obstacles. Just ask for help whenever you need it and those helping you can be your voice.

This was a message that instantly comforted me and gave me new strength. This is the truth.

It is already cold cold winter in Barcelona, the trees in Gandhi's Gardens are losing all their leaves and they huddle together to beat the freezing wind. Even if their branches are nude and shaky, they keep telling their stories. Gandhi's statue is gelid, warmed up only by the blanket of leaves laid at his feet and it's difficult to get him to talk these days. He seems distant. But the trees continue whispering, and Gandhi, with an almost unnoticeable grin, keeps listening. It's the turn of the Plane tree, or as it prefers to be called by its Spanish name, Plátano.

A Mother, an Island, the Desert

To my mother Sabas.

Gandhi once wrote: "Man can never be a woman's equal in the spirit of selfless service with which nature has endowed her".

Dear fellow explorers,

Pick up again your backpack and make sure you carry a double ration of water and provisions, even take a light towel to help you refresh and wash, as it's going to be warm and a long journey awaits us. Today we're going to listen to the story of Lara Maria. The trees in Gandhi's Gardens like Lara's skin because it shows a dark glowing tan that never goes away, be it winter or fall.It contains some eternal light, like that of the desert. So has the birch tree -who prefers to be called by its Spanish name, Abedul-  told the statue of Mahatma from its lowest branches. And I have asked Gandhi to retell Lara's story.

And so Gandhi grants my wish: "Lara now plays with her granddaughters in the kids' playground, right in front of me, across the path that I face. She's a happy woman in her late late fifties, happier than her wrinkles allow her to show, says Abedul, whose leaves can pick up from the air the invisible energy from human hearts: joy, anger or sorrow. Her face still contains the glow of the Sahara desert, yet the dunes she was born in are not those of Africa, but the little island of Fuerteventura. An extension of the desert in the middle of the deep blue Atlantic.

The bread of forgiveness

Gandhi once wrote "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."


Dear fellow explorers, how has the week treated you? Last time we met, I encouraged you to be as fertile as you can and have lots of children by means of your imagination. Have you attempted to conceive many children, many ideas? Have you become loving parents and, more importantly, has this brought a new colour to your day, a new flavour to your table, a new sparkle to your eye? Please bring more babies of your imagination into this world.

Today we are going to take a morning stroll in the gardens. Please take your children by the hand, let's walk up to Gandhi's statue and then tell them to play in the grass patch while we sit on the bench that's right under the pine tree. The Mediterranean pine tree, or Pino, as it prefers to be called, whispered a story to the statue last night. I've asked Gandhi to retell it.

"Lluis is a good man, so has whispered to me Pino from its lower needles. Everyday, very early, just at the wake of dawn, he crosses the gardens in search of one loaf of bread. He will eat half of it for breakfast and the other half for tea.