At nine this morning I was building a ski quote for Banff, Canada. Eight hotel options. Canadian dollar exchange rate with a 2% margin. Two different prompts for two different AI agents to see which one did it better.

At four in the afternoon, a friend texted asking for a price on the Azores. I replied with two WhatsApps by mistake — two versions of a personal pitch that Claude had prepared for me. One long. One short. Both explaining that I’m a travel agent with an AI that works 24/7.

I hit send on both. By accident. Or maybe on purpose. A estas alturas, sinceramente no lo sé.

By eleven at night I had a new client asking for four trips over two years. Azores in May. Azores with kids in summer. Georgia in spring. Kerala in 2027.

And there I was at midnight recommending a hotel with a volcanic thermal pool in a valley where the ground is warm — a place I’ve never been. But one I researched in fifteen minutes with the same AI that had prepared the WhatsApps.

That’s rewiring. It’s not knowing more. It’s daring to not know and searching anyway.

But maybe I should start at the beginning.

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From gin and tonic to the first post

It all started with a gin and tonic I could no longer drink, a YouTube algorithm that decided I was interested in artificial intelligence, and a 39-euro course that changed my mind. Not the blog. My mind. The blog came later, the way good things do: with no plan, no strategy, and the enthusiasm of someone who doesn’t know enough to be afraid.

The sequence went like this:

Gin and tonic → diabetes → quit drinking → long nights without cocktails → YouTube on the couch → algorithm shows me a video about ChatGPT → curiosity → another video → another one → an online course by José Ródenas (“Master ChatGPT,” 39 euros, final grade: 91.18 out of 100) → ChatGPT → Claude → MCP → Skills → a dedicated Mac Mini → and a blog.

Sixteen steps between quitting alcohol and having a blog. It wasn’t a plan. It was a chain of accidents that, seen from here, look inevitable.

In May 2025 I didn’t know what a prompt was. By August I was creating ChatGPT “agents” with emojis. In October I discovered Claude. By December I had 14 Skills configured for my travel agency. And on February 8, 2026, without overthinking it, I published the first post.

It was called “The night of the gin and tonic and the prompt.”

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A blog in Astro without knowing what Astro is

I told Claude: “I want a blog. Fast-loading. Two languages. Not looking like a 2015 WordPress template.”

Claude chose Astro 5. I didn’t know what Astro was. I still can’t explain it with technical precision. What I do know is this:

• Astro is the framework. It generates static pages that load in milliseconds.
• MDX is the format. I write in plain text with a touch of code for the pretty things.
• Vercel is the server. Every time I push a change, the blog updates itself.
• Claude is the builder. I say “I want a wall here” and he lays the bricks.

I didn’t need to learn to code. I needed to learn to ask. La habilidad no es programar. La habilidad es pedir.

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The voice is mine. The speed is Claude’s.

Here’s the biggest misunderstanding about writing with AI: people think you press a button and out comes a text. Like a vending machine. Insert coin, get Coke.

That’s not how it works.

Every post on this blog starts with something that happened to me. Not with keyword research. Not with “content that ranks.” With something I lived, something that surprised me, frustrated me, or made me laugh.

The Jackson Hole post was born because Claude literally put a real criminal into a travel proposal. The dictionary post was born because I remembered how lost I was 8 months ago. The Japan post was born because I dislocated my shoulder at 1,200 meters and kept managing the trip from my phone with AI.

I write a messy paragraph. Claude structures it. I read it. I say “this sounds like a machine.” He rewrites. I say “you’re missing the part about the gin and tonic.” He adds it. And so on, until it sounds like me.

It’s like having a typist who also knows syntax. But the stories, the opinions, and the mistakes — those are all mine.

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14 posts in 14 days

February 8 to 22, 2026. Fourteen posts published. Some days, two. One Sunday night, three.

It wasn’t discipline. It was something like discovering off-piste skiing after 20 years on groomed runs. You know it’s the same sport. But it feels different. And you don’t want to stop.

#	Post	Topic
001	The night of the gin and tonic and the prompt	The origin
002	Artifacts: Mine have edges	Ski + Claude
003	I’ve dived with hammerhead sharks…	Databases
004	Today I put together a ski proposal for Japan…	3 AI agents
005	The day I cloned myself	Digital MiniMe
006	Claude built me a trip with a criminal	Jackson Hole
007	I’ve Got a Flat Tire, Can You Fix It?	Rebel agents
008	Plugins, Interns, and a Podcast Nobody Asked For	NotebookLM
009	The Dictionary I Wish I’d Had When I Started	5 AI terms
010	The Cookbook: New AI Cuisine	Claude vocabulary
011	Five suppliers, three time zones…	Heliski with AI
012	The night my AI and I looted a library	75 sources
013	I organized a ski trip to Japan for 12 people	Japan + AI
014	My first prompt had emojis	From emojis to APIs

Fourteen texts. None planned. All real. Some better than others (010, the cookbook, still makes me laugh).

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Two languages, one toggle

The decision to make the blog bilingual was practical: if Claude adapts tone better than most human translators, why limit myself to Spanish?

Every post exists in two versions. They’re not literal translations. Spanish humor doesn’t travel well by plane. The English versions adapt the tone: less self-deprecation, more context, the same stories.

One click. Same post, different language. The URL changes from /blog/ to /en/blog/. Google indexes both.

Does it work? I have readers in the United States, the United Kingdom, and a gentleman in Singapore who read three posts in a row. Three international readers don’t make a success. But for a blog that started as an accident, it’s something.

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The infographics that shouldn’t exist

This post has 5 infographics. The previous one had 6. I didn’t make any of them with Photoshop, Canva, or any design software.

NotebookLM generates the mind maps. I feed it all the blog’s information and ask it to generate a visual map. What comes out is something between an academic infographic and a conspiracy diagram. But it works.

Gamma generates the clean infographics. I describe what I want — “a timeline of the 14 posts with dates and emojis” — and it generates a visual card I can export as an image.

NotebookLM processes. Gamma visualizes. Claude integrates. I direct. Cuatro herramientas, cero habilidades de diseño, cinco infografías.

A professional designer would do better. But a professional designer charges 200 euros per infographic and takes three days. I generate five in an hour. And for a blog with five readers, that’s more than enough.

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What would I do differently?

Three things:

I’d start with the blog, not the chatbots. My first three months were spent building tools for the agency: chatbots, calculators, price comparators. Useful. Necessary. But invisible. Everyone can read a blog. I should have started with what’s visible.

I’d write fewer posts, but longer. Fourteen posts in fourteen days is the pace of a madman. Some would have been better with more time. The dictionary (009) could have been three times longer. The artifacts one (002) is too short.

I wouldn’t change the first post. “The night of the gin and tonic and the prompt” is the best possible opening. Personal, honest, unexpected. If I’d sat down to think about SEO, I’d have written something generic about “5 ways to use AI in your business.” And nobody would have read even that.

But if I had to choose between the perfect blog and the blog that exists, I’d choose the one that exists. Every time.

El blog perfecto no se escribe. Se posterga.

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What comes after?

This is post 015. The one that closes a cycle. Not the blog — the cycle of “publish nonstop and see what happens.”

What’s coming:

More posts. But at a calmer pace. One per week instead of one per day. Better thought out. Better illustrated. Same voice.

Dive Cruise Hub. A liveaboard diving application with its own API, interactive maps, and a B2B model. I’ve been working on it for months. It’s the big project. The blog was the surprise project.

FITUR 2027. The International Tourism Fair in Madrid. January 2027. I want to present what I’ve built with AI there. Not as a technical talk. As a story. The story of a travel agent who rewired his business without knowing how to code.

A book? Maybe. But first I need to live more chapters before binding them.

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P.S.

The other day I found the last bottle of Hendrick’s I bought before quitting. It was in the kitchen cupboard, behind the spices, covered in dust. I took it out, looked at it, and put it back.

Not out of discipline. Not for health. Because I don’t need it anymore.

The cocktail-free nights I used to fill with television, I now fill with Claude, with posts, with ideas I didn’t know I had until I started writing them down. The space the gin and tonic left behind is now occupied by a blog, three chatbots, and a diving liveaboard project that’s probably too ambitious.

But “too ambitious” is exactly what they told me when I started selling trips. And I’ve been doing it for over 40 years.

El futuro no son jóvenes con sudaderas en Silicon Valley. El futuro es quien se niega a parar.

The blog is the best thing that came out of quitting drinking.

And if you’re reading this — whether from Marbella, Madrid, or Singapore — thank you. Because a blog without readers is a diary. And a diary doesn’t need a language toggle.

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Frequently asked questions

Do I need to know how to code to create a blog like recableado.blog? No. I don’t know how to code. I use Claude Code as my “digital builder”: I describe what I want in plain language and he writes the code. The blog is built on Astro 5, but I haven’t written a single line of code. I’ve written instructions.

How much does it cost to maintain a blog like this? Vercel hosting has a free tier. Claude Code costs $20/month. Gamma infographics have a free tier. The domain recableado.blog costs about 15 euros per year. Total: under 30 euros per month. Less than two gin and tonics.

Does the AI write the posts for you? No. The AI helps me structure, edit, and format. But the stories, opinions, and humor are mine. It’s like having a typist who also knows syntax. The content comes from my head.

Why publish in two languages? Because AI makes translating nearly free in time and effort. And because the stories of someone rewiring themselves with AI are universal — they don’t care about language.

What’s your favorite post? Post 010, “The Cookbook: New AI Cuisine.” Because it compares Claude Code’s vocabulary to cooking terms and it made me laugh while writing it. But the one that matters most is 001, “The night of the gin and tonic and the prompt.” Because without that one, none of the others would exist.

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