Have we met before?

The one where I introduce myself properly and tell you a bit more about the Abroad life.

I assure you that’s me

Hello, it’s me!

You probably know that already if you’re receiving this in your inbox but in the online world we live in today who knows where these words will end up.

But what you may not now is that this November marks a year of me writing regularly here. It’s really flown by and I am very grateful to past me (thank you, Cristina of November 2023) for having taking the plunge because I’ve had so much fun and my writing has definitely improved along the way. Practice makes perfect indeed. In fact, this week I was reading one of my earlier pieces and had to stop after a few paragraphs. What the hell was I thinking about when I hit publish?

Sharing my ramblings here has also made me a lot less self-conscious in other aspects of my life, as I confessed to a colleague who reads this publication the other day, as well as more accepting of my mistakes. I can see how I am a lot more confident than I was a year ago and that is an unexpected silver lining. Perhaps a good reminder that one should never give up something they love, no matter the outcome.

Several of you have been loyal readers since early days but since we’re a bigger group now, I thought this could be a nice way to celebrate my writing anniversary together (no cake, I’m afraid) and a good opportunity to properly introduce myself.

What? Oh yes, sorry.

Me stands for Cristina.

No H, no K, no other names like Caroline.

Don’t make that face, you’d be surprised to learn the names I’ve been called since living in London so you’ll excuse me if I’m a tad sensitive about it.

Particularly because 1) I love my name and I think it’s great and 2) it’s very easy to spell in a great number of languages. So why does everyone think, “oh, poor thing, she’s written her name wrong. Here, let me fix that for her without making her feel embarrased”?

If you think Chinese people have it hard having to embrace a new identity by picking up a Western-sounding name that couldn’t be further from their own only to make our non-Chinese speaking phonetic organs a favour, you have no idea what a shitshow it is to have two surnames plus a double first name when in most countries the standard is one name, one surname.

A while back I wrote a piece called That’s not my name that I shared with my sister. She thought it was hilarious. I though it was a disgrace in this age and time I had to make the case for being called by my name. I should probably revisit it and share it here to help me process the trauma every Spanish person carries when living abroad. I’ve heard things you single-surname mortals can’t even imagine.

And yet, in the UK there are people with very long names and double surnames. Why can’t anyone for once assume I am part of the landed gentry of this fine country and get my full name right the first time? It can’t be because of the accent, not in emails anyway.

That’s the other bit about me: I’m from Spain, the land where two-surnamed people reign supreme and unbothered about people getting their names wrong. Because they don’t.

Spain, not Italy. I often get mistaken for Italian on account of my academic background, apparently my looks, my name (told you it was very similar in other countries), the fact that I speak the language fluently, and occasionally wearing cosy jumpers with the word “Ciao” all over them. What can I say? A bit of method dressing didn’t harm anyone. It worked for Margot Robbie. Of all the the assumptions people make about me, mistaking me for an Italian is one I don’t actually mind because half my heart is Italian anyway. Comunque sono spagnola lo stesso.

And no, we don’t all spend our days back home sleeping siesta. Actually using that word when you’re not from Spain is cultural appropriation. I wrote a note about it.

Flaming June by Frederick Leighton. She would have felt at home in Spain

More precisely, I’m from Tomelloso, a small town at the beating heart of La Mancha, the land which inspired Cervantes to write El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de La Mancha, that’s Don Quixote for those on less familiar terms, a little book you may have heard about.

Rumour has it it was in Argamasilla de Alba where Cervantes started writing his famous novel while he was incarcerated for having made a pass at the Mayor’s daughter. Or at least that’s what I wrote about when I was 12 for a writing contest about Cervantes held at the Cueva de Medrano, former prison where Cervantes was incarcerated and now the town’s local library. I won in case you wondered.

I’ve often thought about this close connection with a novel about a man who read so many books that he was inspired to go in search of adventures and be the protagonist of his own story, not only a reader, because it’s exactly what happened to me.

I’ve always loved reading and books were a portal to worlds I could have never imagined otherwise from the platitude and the scorching heat of La Mancha. A constant soundtrack I heard growing up was my mum’s voice telling me that my brain would melt from so much reading.¹

One of the books that I remember very vividly was The Hound of the Barkervilles² by Arthur Conan Doyle, which I read when I was 9 or 10 (maybe 8?). I was completely fascinated by Sherlock Holmes and the London he lived in, so different to my surroundings, as well as the descriptions of the moors in Dartmoor where the action of the novel then moved to. How ironic that I have ended up living in London and complaining about the terrible weather when I found it so mysterious and atmospheric in that novel.

The stories I read growing up were seeds that over time grew into my thirst for exploring other cultures and learning other languages. There surely had to be more to this world than my small town. Like Don Quijote, I set out to explore it and live my own adventures, and like Don Quijote I was a bit misunderstood as no one in my family had ever lived abroad before nor envisioned anyone could want that life instead of spending their time on earth in the same place where they were born.

Like Cervantes I spent hours imprisoned here. It’s fine: it’s the local library now.

You may be wondering why I am telling you all this now.

Well, for a number of reasons.

First, because I don’t trust people are as nosy as I am -destined to be an MI6 spy, forced to online stalking- and probably no one reads the About page much in the same way no one reads a Tinder bio. That’s why I’m being generous with pictures of me in this one despite my aversion for showing myself online. I’m using them as bait to lure more readers in, you see. It’s that or Only Fans these days if you want to sustain your creative dreams or sporting ambitions.

Secondly, because in the past three weeks there has been an influx of you joining as a result of me writing about love and its discontents, which is funny because that’s not what I usually write about. To date is my most successful post by far. So now I’m panicking about everyone who subscribed thanks to it reaching that conclusion and leaving, causing me to enter a spiral of self-doubt just when I thought was on the cusp of global stardom. Anyway, I’m glad that piece resonated with so many people regardless of what the future holds.

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Third, because I’m an introvert and I like taking my time with people, whether in person or online. I also need plenty of alone time to recharge after being around others. One of my many pet peeves are people who want to see you regularly and know everything about you the moment they meet you and blurt out every private detail about themselves in hope you reciprocate and forge an indestructible alliance. I’m not your person, you fucking weirdo.³

In fact, quite the opposite.

I understand that for some people small talk is important so every now and them I put myself through that excruciating experience because I am not completely anti-social. I can perfectly sleep without knowing how your week’s going or what your holiday plans are, but I know bids for connection are the fabric that sustain human interactions. And yet I couldn’t care less. I think you have a right to know so you don’t end up bent in two with laughter telling me how hilarious I am when all I’m trying to do trying to is come clean with you. It’s frustrating. But I understand I can be quite funny so I forgive you.

Likewise, if we mix the introversion with having spent two decades living abroad, I need to remind myself to reach out to people if I want to stay connected to them.

It’s very easy to forget about the friendships you make along the way as a result of living in different countries and them not being part of your every day life. Nor you of theirs, it goes both ways and it can be trying to maintain the same level of connection you had when you both occupied the same physical space in the world when now there’s only a tiny screen and memories of times past holding you together. Sometimes the strain is too much to endure and you end up letting go. That too counts as a hearbreak.

I live in London and I feel extremely lucky to have a job that allows me to gush about London’s vibrant creative and cultural ecosystem while being a first-hand witness of cutting edge technological innovation. And also of how fast AI is transforming our world.

However, all of this wasn’t meant to happen.

I belong to the category of people that ended up in London by chance. I didn’t even want to come for the internship that brought me here as I had visited London as a tourist previously and wasn’t looking forward to return⁴. But fate had other plans, so what I thought would be a 3 month internship to complete a master’s degree turned into 15 years and counting.

I was supposed to go back to Italy after that internship to try my luck and work for UNESCO in Rome, where I actually wanted to do my master’s internship. The internship coordinator thought I would be far more useful in an organisation that worked with corporate businesses despite having a totally unsuitable profile. I haven’t given up working for UNESCO in Rome one day.

Keeping relationships and making friends in a city like London is one of the biggest challenges in a life spent in between countries and cultures, especially if you start living abroad an age where most people are in flux and still finding themselves and their place in the world.

You’re constantly meeting exceptional people that have a transformative and positive effect on you but they invariably leave, or you do, and it starts all over again. Maybe in a new country, possibly in a new language. In London it happens more often as the intensity of this city -and its soaring prices- eventually push people out. The pandemic was in fact the big friendship wipeout.

It can be sad, but since I also have a natural tendency to get lost in my head and the million things going on inside it, which I often find more stimulating than the ones happening in the world around me, I’ve always had in solitude a reliable companion. And yet I’m aware that I have to push myself to get out of my shell every now and then and embrace the physical world in its full chaotic glory.

When that happens, I often over do it and can’t have enough of being out and about, which results in me feeling exhausted and usually falling ill, and then cancelling social gatherings until 2050 or my funeral, whichever happens first.

I know what you’re thinking.

Why Abroad?

I’m glad you asked.

Abroad takes its name after a piece I wrote exploring the journey across languages and countries that has taken me where I am today. It was shortlisted for the Evening Standard Stories Competition last year, where the main theme was “Belonging”. For the time being I’m keeping it for me but it may see the light here one day. Or maybe not, don’t get your hopes too high.

As a result of having lived in several countries, I’ve become interested in many things that wouldn’t have crossed my path otherwise, both personally and professionally. My life is a series of Venn diagrams where these different areas overlap.

Abroad, therefore, seemed a very fitting name for the home I wanted to build for those interconnected and wandering thoughts, ideas and reflections that cross my mind at racing speed but didn’t have a fixed place to go. Same as me for many years.

Abroad

/əˈbrɔːd/

Adverb

1. in or to a foreign country or countries.

2. in different directions; over a wide area.

As for my writing itself, I find there is a special kind of beauty in the ability to craft a story from ordinary details and I would define my writing as creative non-fiction, weaving in observations about every day life and the mundane with the necessary fiction tools to make a narrative compelling. Or so I hope.

I want to think that I write the kind of pieces that David Sedaris would write if he was a girl from La Mancha who has spent 20 years abroad and now lives in London, speaks with a funny accent and it’s constantly struggling to grasp the language of Shakespeare, French or her own in equal measure. In fact, Italian might be the only I can speak properly. I think that’s a good description. Ambitious, perhaps, but not completely far-fetched.

In fact, a couple of people have mentioned my writing brought Sedaris to mind, so eat your words and read this essay by Sedaris from the excellent Me Talk Pretty One Day, a book I read when I was an exchange student in Greensboro, North Carolina, of all places. Guess who grew up there… What? No, not Cervantes. Anyway, it seems I was predestined to live in places that inspired great writers.

Themes and things to expect from Abroad

• Reflections on being an introvert in an extroverts’ world.

  People struggle to believe it but I really am. After years of beating myself up for not being like everyone else, I’ve finally learned to embrace who I am and it’s been quite liberating.

• Humour, irony, sarcasm

  At least I hope it comes across that way and not just as standoffish awkwardness. I can always argue English is not my native language if a joke goes terribly wrong or a text fails to deliver its intended comic effect. However you should know from the start that I’m the kind of person who laughs at her own jokes and usually has more fun inside my head than with people, which means I don’t have much feedback to rely on other than my own.

• My love for books (and reading)

  I often say I like reading but lately I’ve come to the realisation that I may actually love books more than reading. In any case, both have played an important part in my life. My dream would be to own a house big enough to have proper library where I could spend days on end just observing my shelves. And occasionally doing a bit of reading.

• Tech talk. Yes, that includes AI but also how technology is changing our lives

  It won’t be the dominat content, but it’ll make an appearance every now and then. If you are interested in these topics, I used to write another newsletter where I talked about technology and creative industries

• Cultural differences, identity, belonging

  I come from a tiny place of 7,000 people where I never felt I belonged. I have now spend 20 years abroad and lived in Spain, Italy, and the US before calling London home. And with my sister living in France for over a decade I’ve been fortunate to visit often and get to know pas mal d’endroits.

• The latest movie/actor/director I’m obsessed with

  For 13 years I ignored cinemas existed in London. Now I go almost every week and watch a ridiculous amount of films. My newfound love for cinema has been a great way to open my mind to the different ways a story can be told and I’m particularly interested in the creative process of directors and actors to bring a story or character to life. I find visually storytelling a fascinating complement for writers. For the record, I think Hugh Grant is Britain’s finest export.

• A love for languages and linguistic observations. I speak Spanish, Italian, English and French (au moins j’essaie) - All invariably with an accent, not always the one you’d expect.

• A (tough) love for London and the highs and lows of living here

  Like young Willy Wonka I believe that “in this city, anyone can be successful if they've talent and work hard, or so they say. But they didn't mention it would be so stressful just to make a dozen silver sovereigns last more than a day.”

Beside stand alone pieces on the above -which are organised by broad categories in the home page - you can expect two regular sections:

• A Week in the Life - an overview of every day life in London, bringing all the different topics of Abroad together as I reflect on life as a foreigner in a global city from both a personal and professional point of view.

• The Culture Fix - a round-up of the books, music, films, articles, and more that I’ve been enjoying lately. I love sharing these tidbits and I’ve discovered so many new favourite artists/music/films/books/places/authors thanks to what other people genuinely love and share.

I’m in. Where do I sign to be part of this madness?

Before you make any rushed decisions that end with me crying in bed as I watch my readers go down like lemmings jumping off a cliff, which will trigger my rejection sensitivity, let me inform you that Abroad is fully accessible for free.

Not because I don’t believe in making money -trust me, I’m here for it because London isn’t a cheap place to live- or don’t value my writing enough to be paid for it. I really do. In fact, I’m very happy for people who are able to make a living from their writing here and I aspire to do the same one day.

However, each of us comes to Substack for different reasons and at different stages in our writing journey and that’s the beauty of this space.

Personally, I’m in the “let me have fun with this without adding further pressure” stage so I’d like to offer people the chance to get to know me first. Setting up paid subscriptions now -despite there’s always the option to subscribe for free- feels like asking a total stranger about whether they want kids after having met them a couple of times for drinks in a random pub.

I believe one should never discuss certain topics with a total stranger (no, it doesn’t matter you’ve texted for a few days, you don’t know them) if having the same exact same conversation with a plumber that visits the house for the first time would be extremely awkward. That’s your benchmark. If it’s good enough for the plumber, then by all means go ahead with the heavy artillery⁵.

For the time being, I don’t want to worry about whether I have to pay taxes on the pennies I make from someone subscribing from Kuala Lumpur. The Substackgate, no matter how much I aspire to a life of riches, is not for the easily overwhelmed and terrible at math any more than dating apps are for true romantics.

When was this book when I was in high school?

If you enjoy my ramblings, I warmly encourage you to subscribe to Abroad if you haven’t already. The journey is always less exciting when one travels alone.

And let’s be honest: The sooner this publication grows and expands, the sooner I can put an end to this pathetic farce about art for art’s sake, dating analogies, not caring about money and reveal my true capitalistic colours. Besides, I really don’t want to end up on Only Fans. Please, don’t let that happen. It’ll haunt both of us until the day we die.

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And that’s about it.

It’s great to have you here, whichever way you’ve found this space in the borderless territory of online worlds.

Thanks for stopping by and if you think someone else may also like the sound of it and would enjoy reading my writing, please don’t hesitate to share the love with them.

Living abroad is not compulsory.

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A few posts to begin with

#10 Culture Fix

How often do I think about the Roman Empire? Not often enough

False Friends

My week of iPlayer and relaxation

Cultural RenAIssance

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Abroad is an independent publication about identity and belonging, living in between cultures and languages, the love of books, music, films, creativity, life in London, and being human in the age of artificial intelligence.

1. “Se te van a hacer los sesos agua con tanto libro, muchacha” in the vernacular Spanish.

2. Have read five times in three different languages - Spanish, English and Italian. Seems only fair I read it in French as well.

3. Based on a surreal true story that included a bit of online stalking, both directly and indirectly, as a common acquaintance was also drawn into it to persuade me to be friends with their oversharing and overbearing friend. Both were women. That was wild.

4. I spent that trip in a studio flat in Shepherd’s Bush with 6 other people and sleeping on the floor. In the middle of February. It wasn’t exactly what you call a dream holiday.

5. However, if you are married to a plumber or you are the plumber, you may want to give this a second thought.