sadness

Not a good time for the expats---or anyone---in the village. Today we learned that one of us, one of the old-timer "pioneers", had died suddenly at age 46 this morning. We are all still in shock. Tonight many of us gathered to grieve, to try to make a little sense of what has happened, to be there for each other. This night, this sad night, has reminded many of us of why we came to this village. Despite everything that has changed this place in the past few years, we have a strong sense of community here that few of us would find back in London or Philadelphia or Manchester or Copenhagen or Hamburg, or wherever we called home before. This life in the village made friends of construction workers, retirees, police officers, artists, teachers, and freaks like us---people whose circles would never have intersected previously. So tonight we ask that you raise a glass in honor of Mick, a Geordie lad born and raised just a few blocks away from Big Jim in old Newcastle. He would have wanted it that way. Hasta pronto, myilfeinspain