I was born in Altea, Spain, and spent my first seven years there. The rhythm of life was slow and deliberate; neighbors lingered in doorways, conversations folded into the murmuration of birds above and donkeys clattered over the steep cobblestone streets.

Then, in 1979, we left for the United States. We moved to a world that felt like a television set—bright, sprawling, moving at an impossible speed. The warmth of Altea, where time stretched and softened in the afternoon sun, was replaced with the hum of traffic and the glare of fluorescent lights. The streets were wide, the sidewalks empty.

Even as I adapted to my new life, Altea stayed with me, not just in memory, but in how my body carried its absence—a longing. It was more than nostalgia. It was a pull, an imprint. A certainty that I would find my way back.

And I did.

In 2024, my husband and I bought a home in Altea. Slowly, we’ve been working on it—painting tiles, finding furniture, shaping it into something that feels like ours. The process is as much about returning as it is about creating, and stitching together the past and present. Recently, I completed a master’s degree in Theatre and Performative Practice at University College Cork (UCC) in Ireland. My thesis wove together artistic methodology, the landscape of Altea, and the idea of home—what it means, how it shifts, and how we return to it, again and again.

I’m laying the groundwork for a business in Altea, drawing on my artistic studies and storytelling experience. The town’s growth—from my childhood to now—mirrors my own journey into maturity. Through my work, I invite you to see Altea as I do—in brushstrokes, words, and immersive experiences.