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September 30th 2005 (Colleen)
Nearly 3 years have gone by
since we took the first major step in our Spanish adventure. I am presently
sitting at the top of our property, ostensibly keeping an eye on the
generator whilst it pumps water from our 150m deep bore hole to the tanks.
In reality, I am soaking up the beauty of the vista before me. To my left,
through the early morning autumn mists, I can see the sheen on the
Mediterranean Sea encasing the southern sprawl of Malaga in its ethereal
caress. A comparatively small hillock rising above my line of sight
obscures sight of Éstacion de Cártama, but peeping out behind is Cártama
Pueblo (village) edging on to Alhaurin El Grande with the towns of Coin and
Monda beyond. Behind them, mountains burgeon forth in layers far into the
distance, forming a frame along the western side of the Guadalhorce Valley.
The bluff of El Hacho shields Pizarra from my sight, but it is not high
enough to hide the wispy, mystical shroud which softens the stark outlines
of the Sierra de las Nieves. To my right, the white village of Álora moulds
itself tightly against the inclines, clinging determinedly up and down to
any form the Earth may have. Far in the distance I can see a tower looming
through the haze signalling the location of El Chorro National Park,
designated an “area of outstanding natural beauty”. Perfectly stated.
As the sun’s rays warm my back through the dappled shade of the olive tree,
I contemplate my burdensome task of water pumping, three hours once a week.
Just how hard could life be? How hard? Well, very! The reality all started
one happy day in November 2002 …
Both Alan and I had left our
old lives and marriages behind us and were living contentedly together in a
flat on the South Coast of England. Whilst delighted to have a second
chance in life with each other, we knew we were just treading water and that
the outlook for our future was, well, mediocre. We knew that neither of us
wanted to stand quiescent for the rest of our lives, locked in the
suffocating suburban life that encompassed us. Each of us enjoyed our jobs
– but work was simply not enough. We knew there was more, much more.
Alan had spent quite some
time in Spain and Gibraltar overseeing the dry docking of ships. Naturally,
whenever I could, I joined him. Slowly, imperceptibly, a germinating seed
was growing in our minds. Whenever we passed an estate agents in Spain, we
would look in the windows and comment on the various properties available.
There seemed to be so many different types, and prices, but the only ones we
both kept pointing out were the virtual ruins in the middle of nowhere!
Realisation began to dawn on us – we could do it: we could really move to
Spain – there was nothing to stop us. Certainly we needed to sit down and
work out the nitty gritty details, but intrinsically we could see no reason
why we shouldn’t at least try.
One of the first things was to sort out where in Spain we would like to be –
it’s a vast country, some 1000 kilometres square with Madrid slap bang in
the middle. There can’t be many countries where the capital is the furthest
point from the sea possible! The most important factor in our choice was the
tourism aspect. As we had decided that the only way we could make a living
would be to rent a villa to holiday makers, we needed the right place within
an hour or so of an airport – one that had cheap flights. That determinant
alone cut out many areas of Spain as the budget airlines were then mostly to
the Costas. Another ingredient to success would be understanding the
language. I had spent a year in Peru in my early twenties and now, more
than twenty years later, I still remembered a fair amount of my studies, so
it seemed a sensible idea to pick somewhere where they spoke “normal
Spanish”. This ruled out areas such as Barcelona where they speak Catalan
and even in Valencia they have their own version of Catalan. In blissful
ignorance, I had never heard of the dialect they speak in Andalusia … so
this shortfall in my knowledge is why we chose to look in the south of
Spain. Many hours were spent on the internet poring over the property sales
websites. An immense array to choose from … but we needed to do more than
just look at the computer screen: the germinating seed, having firmly
implanted itself in our minds, now required a growth medium, plus a little
nurturing. We booked ourselves a 5 day trip to the Malaga area to see some
of the properties that had stood out in our internet hunt. |
