12th November 2020
A year ago to the day, I said goodbye to London and life as I had known it.
For better or for worse, I left behind friends, relationships, a comfortable lifestyle, my beloved record collection and a steady career.
First, I spent a captivating six weeks in India; travelling from Mumbai in the West, to Kerala in the south, Chennai in the East and finally Meghalaya and Kolkata in the North.
Then on January 3rd 2020, I moved indefinitely to Bari in Southern Italy with only two suitcases and my trusty 1962 Harmony H1260 guitar in tow (the same model that Jimmy Page used on ‘Stairway to Heaven’, if you’re interested).
One year on, I am writing this from a spartan one-bedroom flat in the Madonnella district, with the Adriatic Sea and ‘Lungomare’ (‘sea front’) a two-minute walk away. The flat has a mould problem, a leaking bathroom tap and basin (my landlord, a retired football scout, has asked me to ‘manage’ the problem with a plastic container for the time being), questionable kitchen plumbing (l’idraulico has only been called out to unblock the sink a mere four times this year) and a burgeoning mosquito population who enjoy an active nightlife that seems to peak around 5am in my bedroom. For reasons that don’t need elaborating on, I have spent more time inside this flat during 2020 than I ever thought imaginable.
My Barese home. 
The daily view from my kitchen.
However, this well-worn old building in deepest Madonnella is full of character and my neighbours include numerous inquisitive, yet friendly older Italian ‘nonnas’ whose homes overlook mine. I am sure they know where I am from (“L’Inglese!”), what I do for a living (“Lui è un insegnante!”), as well as what music I listen to (“Le Smeeeths!”). There is a secretive speakeasy bar diagonally opposite (“We only sell Peroni and Fanta” was the curt response when I enquired about buying a bottle of water one evening when my flat’s water supply had been cut off) and the street is surprisingly multicultural; I live a few doors down from a Chinese gentleman who dries his clothes on an airer he places on the pavement, a large family from Mauritius and several Indians.
It’s 5.30pm, my neighbours have started to stir from their daily siestas and chatter loudly from their balconies and The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane Turiyasangitananda is on my stereo. Despite the ongoing uneasiness caused by the Covid pandemic, with news of an approved vaccine on the way and Joe Biden’s impending inauguration as POTUS, there is plenty to feel optimistic about.
But, why Bari?
I was familiar with Bari being one of the largest cities in Southern Italy and the capital of the Puglia region but I must admit that a lot of my knowledge was down to S.S.C. Bari being the first Italian club of choice for former England midfielder David Platt when he made the switch to Serie A in 1991 (for then a British transfer record fee). I got good vibes from my new school during my interview though and it sounded like a liveable city – “The Paris of the South” according to locals – and with a population of just over 300,000, a little less hectic than London. Puglia is also a region famous for its no-fuss, predominantly vegetarian cuisine (‘cucina povera’) and this was certainly another major draw for me.
I had spent over ten years in London – at times working very hard, at other times having a lot of fun – and in general, living life at 100 miles per hour. I’d had a lot of highs but also some fairly crushing lows (being told in an appraisal by a boss early in my career that he’d “be embarrassed to be me” and that I should be “ashamed of myself”, ranks pretty highly. Said boss also had a penchant for making girls cry during interviews but that’s another story).
The typical working week for me in London would often consist of 45-50 hours in the office, going to three evening gigs after work, a big night out or two at the weekend, four or five gym or swimming pool sessions and on average, five or six nightly hours of sleep. Cramming as much into my days as possible and then feeling suitably knackered by the time Friday evening came around.
I had done reasonably in my career and worked myself up to a position that had a degree of responsibility but I couldn’t help but feel an unscratched itch that there had to be more to life than this and that time in the city was starting to pass by increasingly quickly.
I began to look into teaching English overseas.
It felt like an ideal way to experience living and working in a different country whilst doing something meaningful and dealing with lots of different people every day. Being able to ‘teach’ also felt like a good life skill to have too, no matter what the future years would have in store.
I studied for one of the necessary teaching qualifications and was soon able to start applying for roles.
There were several options on the table; I was offered positions in Hanoi in Vietnam, Bangkok in Thailand, Morelia in Mexico, Madrid in Spain and Catania in Sicily. However, I chose Bari.
