Chapter 1 – Paradise Lost
“My first glimpse of Spain was through a tiny window of a propeller plane flying over a rolling countryside covered in white. Mother leaned over and told me that it was snow. It looked so clean and shiny: I could not wait to touch it. The plane landed soon after at the Madrid airport. I jumped out of my seat, rushed to the exit and stood beside the stewardess waiting excitedly for the door to open. When it did, I nearly knocked her down as I tore past and out onto the metal stairs leading to the tarmac. I did not get far. The full force of a winter blizzard hit and froze me in my tracks. It was, to say the least, a rude awakening for a six-year-old boy from the tropics. It felt like I had been placed naked inside a freezer, the icy air slicing through me like a sharp knife cutting effortlessly through a hard manchego cheese. The snowflakes stung as they made contact with my face and body, which was barely covered by a pair of shorts and a thin cotton shirt. And that is how, on November 2, 1959, I was introduced to “sunny” Spain. (…) “