Living in Barcelona, we’ve all had them or have been them at some point or time. Whether your friend comes around for a catch-up and a coffee or your mother-in-law’s second cousin comes for a two-week vacation, they are what we term as visitors.

Visitors are a pleasure to have around; we get to swap stories about news and friends, old and new, and have a laugh or two, but when the verb changes from ‘visit’ into ‘stay’ and then illegally crosses the border into overstaying … well, that’s when things can get ugly.

As a New Zealander living in Barcelona, which just happens to be one of the most visited cities in Europe, I have become a target for visitors. I have absolutely no problem with my target title, in fact, I wear it with pride. It’s a pleasure to have people around. But during these past summer months, I was inundated by guests who just didn’t want to leave.

During the summer, in a moment of weakness, when I was thinking that my house resembled a camping ground or a hotel, where people came and went and did little in-between, I had an epiphany of sorts. The wheel of karma folded in upon me.

I’m not a religious man but I do believe that among that pile of smelly visitors’ clothes, I had a revelation. Luke’s famous biblical line came to me: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Okay, so admittedly I had learned the lesson a little too late, I mean, the shoe was on the other foot, but in that very moment, that stinky pile of clothes was saved from going out the window.

Now, although I don’t particularly believe in Karma (although I did just give it a capital K), I do believe in the phrase ‘what comes around goes around’ (I think I just contradicted myself). Let me tell you how this came about.

I remember when, after I had finished university, I went on a reconnaissance mission to the capital of New Zealand: Wellington. Off I went hitching, back in those days when love and flowers were free and a lack of money seemed, well, unimportant when compared to the former.

I arrived in Wellington a few days later and moved in with my brother and his young family. The first week or so was wonderful; I was in a new city, alive it was, and full of new trappings and friends that I never knew I had. Everyone I met was so accommodating for I had come from afar and I was essentially out on a limb. After that though, I found that people went back to their lives and so, as one sheep amidst millions I thought I would tag along. But I didn’t find work immediately and the pockets were jangling a little less than before so I found I couldn’t contribute to living costs as much as I would have liked to. So, as it turned out, I had to move out of my brother’s place and find an alternative, maybe a tent or a cardboard box, after all, it was summer and I had long hair. Eventually I found a place: an old house complete with 8 inhabitants who were all in the same position as I was: little money, no need to shave (including both men and women), and a whole summer to try and find work. Yeah right, anyone want another coffee?

I got a job as a dish-pig (human dishwasher), in an American-style restaurant and discovered that: (1) I didn’t like American food so much and (2) I didn’t like cleaning up after stressed out chefs. So, I gave up after a month and returned back to the safety of home.

The message behind this story is that I didn’t pay my way; I was a visitor who let the visitor title drag on for too long i.e. through the mud. I became swept up in a free-loving summer with too much emphasis on ‘free’ and too little on the ‘love’.

Now that I am a responsible citizen, who shaves every day and has a steady job in the Catalan capital, I have become the perfect prey for visitors, and that Karma thingamajig has come around and bit me on the bum. I’ve learned my lesson now: I even spell Karma with a capital ‘K’ (just in case).