About Carlos

Without being asked whether I agreed on the matter, I was born on one of the Spanish Canary Islands, at a time when sideburns and bell-bottoms were all the rage. It wasn’t long before they put me in a state school. There, I became streetwise. At the tennis club next door, I learned to swing a tennis racket. Then basketball came along and the only thing I wanted was to be Larry Bird. In the meantime, I devoured those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, though it was “The Little Vampire” that hypnotized my afternoons. My first puff was on a Krüger, or maybe it was a Coronas. I used to hold an Arehucas rum in my hand, but nowadays the finer Gin and Tonic is the drink of choice.

I liked blondes. It was a brunette who first broke my heart. My first kiss, which was a long time coming, also flaunted dark hair. My teenage obsession with chess was entirely the fault of Bobby Fischer. For some time I only saw squares and horses. And some bishops. Desperate, my parents sent me to Ireland to cure me of this obsession, and there, I joined a chess club on the first day… Destiny, (a euphemism for household arguments) sent me on my way to the University of Granada where I started to really change my life.

Close to the Alhambra Palace I surrounded myself with books, and the first hand-written stories emerged, a few poems too. I wanted to change the world and all that and I founded Achitacande, a cultural and environmental NGO. I experienced great joy along with a few slaps in the face: a crash course on the human species. I left Granada with a degree in Political Science and Sociology, a real hieroglyph for the Spanish labour market. That’s why I worked at a winery, delivered pizzas riding on the back of a Vespa in London, became a local TV presenter…

I headed off to Madrid to study a Masters in Environmental Studies, to see if that would do it… I walked the entire city, and took refuge at several cultural institutions. I landed at the Writer’s School of Madrid and it was there that Javier Sagarna made me see the light: writing is not a pastime, my friend. So, I started to really put my back into it. I enjoyed Cortázar, Faulkner, Joyce, Saramago, Carver, Salinger or Valle-Inclán, I was bored by Goethe, Duras… In 2006, my first blog was born.

But stomachs don’t go on holiday and so I set off for Brussels to enrol at the European Commission. There I was director of a newspaper for interns, after which I savoured the bitter kiss of unemployment. No problem, in 2010 I passed a European Union competition to work for the EU External Service.

And now my world opened up, brother. I went to places that nobody wanted to go. First, to Africa, four very special years in Liberia, a country devastated by Civil War and that this webpage pays tribute to. Later I headed off to the South Pacific, to the tribal Papua New Guinea to be exact. These were years of lots of flights, touching down in countries as enigmatic as Guinea Conakry, Burkina Faso and North Korea. I came back from these places with certainty and 223 questions. I sold my TV. And I didn’t read the papers as much.

Meanwhile, I wrote, always listening to that voice, and always out of breath. I called myself by various names. I wrote my most ambitious blog www.thesuncanbeyellow.com under the pseudonym of Paul Faraway. After that, I began to collaborate with El País, the main Spanish newspaper, among others.

One day I realised that my belly was growing and I got scared by the idea that I had life all worked out. A mortal lack of vertigo. Thousands of walks along the beach forced me to listen to that voice, “it’s time to do what you want, write man, write”. It was the same voice that celebrated death “don’t you think it’s wonderful to know that you will cease to be, one day, so as to convince yourself of what you really want to do now?”

Hence, I left everything to be become a writer and now I live only for literature – most likely I have developed Literary Asperger’s syndrome, if it exists. I am now finishing my first book of short stories and writing on this site about my curious life in Liberia. Welcome to my web, this is your home!

Write to me, I would be delighted to hear from you

I accept the privacy policy.

Basic information on data protection:

  • Responsible: Carlos Battaglini
  • Aim: Moderation and publication of comments
  • Addressee: Data are not communicated to third
  • Rights: Access, rectification and deletion of data

Without being asked whether I agreed on the matter, I was born on one of the Spanish Canary Islands, at a time when sideburns and bell-bottoms were all the rage. It wasn’t long before they put me in a state school. There, I became streetwise. At the tennis club next door, I learned to swing a tennis racket. Then basketball came along and the only thing I wanted was to be Larry Bird. In the meantime, I devoured those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, though it was “The Little Vampire” that hypnotized my afternoons. My first puff was on a Krüger, or maybe it was a Coronas. I used to hold an Arehucas rum in my hand, but nowadays the finer Gin and Tonic is the drink of choice.

I liked blondes. It was a brunette who first broke my heart. My first kiss, which was a long time coming, also flaunted dark hair. My teenage obsession with chess was entirely the fault of Bobby Fischer. For some time I only saw squares and horses. And some bishops. Desperate, my parents sent me to Ireland to cure me of this obsession, and there, I joined a chess club on the first day… Destiny, (a euphemism for household arguments) sent me on my way to the University of Granada where I started to really change my life.

Close to the Alhambra Palace I surrounded myself with books, and the first hand-written stories emerged, a few poems too. I wanted to change the world and all that and I founded Achitacande, a cultural and environmental NGO. I experienced great joy along with a few slaps in the face: a crash course on the human species. I left Granada with a degree in Political Science and Sociology, a real hieroglyph for the Spanish labour market. That’s why I worked at a winery, delivered pizzas riding on the back of a Vespa in London, became a local TV presenter…

I headed off to Madrid to study a Masters in Environmental Studies, to see if that would do it… I walked the entire city, and took refuge at several cultural institutions. I landed at the Writer’s School of Madrid and it was there that Javier Sagarna made me see the light: writing is not a pastime, my friend. So, I started to really put my back into it. I enjoyed Cortázar, Faulkner, Joyce, Saramago, Carver, Salinger or Valle-Inclán, I was bored by Goethe, Duras… In 2006, my first blog was born.

But stomachs don’t go on holiday and so I set off for Brussels to enrol at the European Commission. There I was director of a newspaper for interns, after which I savoured the bitter kiss of unemployment. No problem, in 2010 I passed a European Union competition to work for the EU External Service.

And now my world opened up, brother. I went to places that nobody wanted to go. First, to Africa, four very special years in Liberia, a country devastated by Civil War and that this webpage pays tribute to. Later I headed off to the South Pacific, to the tribal Papua New Guinea to be exact. These were years of lots of flights, touching down in countries as enigmatic as Guinea Conakry, Burkina Faso and North Korea. I came back from these places with certainty and 223 questions. I sold my TV. And I didn’t read the papers as much.

Meanwhile, I wrote, always listening to that voice, and always out of breath. I called myself by various names. I wrote my most ambitious blog www.thesuncanbeyellow.com under the pseudonym of Paul Faraway. After that, I began to collaborate with El País, the main Spanish newspaper, among others.

One day I realised that my belly was growing and I got scared by the idea that I had life all worked out. A mortal lack of vertigo. Thousands of walks along the beach forced me to listen to that voice, “it’s time to do what you want, write man, write”. It was the same voice that celebrated death “don’t you think it’s wonderful to know that you will cease to be, one day, so as to convince yourself of what you really want to do now?”

Hence, I left everything to be become a writer and now I live only for literature – most likely I have developed Literary Asperger’s syndrome, if it exists. I am now finishing my first book of short stories and writing on this site about my curious life in Liberia. Welcome to my web, this is your home!

Write to me, I would be delighted to hear from you

I accept the privacy policy.

Basic information on data protection:

  • Responsible: Carlos Battaglini
  • Aim: Moderation and publication of comments
  • Addressee: Data are not communicated to third
  • Rights: Access, rectification and deletion of data