To Mojacar and back

Mouthwatering lemons from the tree!

We had property to view! It was going to take us 3 hours to drive to see it so a visit to the seaside was a necessary inclusion in the journey. Looking on the map and reading up what guides had to say, Mojacar was the obvious beach location to head for.
As well as the property, we wanted the chance to see the countryside on the far east of Granada province moving across the border into Almeria. A rather nice looking road (on the map, it looked nice...it meandered a bit, it had mountains to the south of it, there was green around it and little villages dotted either side... it looked nice - as an avid map-gazer I know what I mean -) which I persuaded Cesar we should take rather than the autovia. Now we have no GPS, I am back to official map reader and navigator again - hurray!!
This was roughly our route if you like that sort of thing:

I say roughly because I checked it out on ViaMichelin then decided that we wouldn't do steps 1-4 as suggested, which took us on the now familiar road towards Granada - instead, we cut across country eastwards to the motorway (A44-E902), south to the next junction, then took the little orange road towards step 5. It was better, I think.
Views along the way would have been stunning - of the Sierra Nevada - except it was very misty and damp and we couldn't see much at all.
Not until we got to Guadix (5) when the clouds disappeared and we got a good view of this gorgeous town - all red stone against the snowy backdrop - and I had a pang of remorse that we didn't pursue this as our base...until Cesar reminded me that there were no school places for the children and no places to rent at the time we were looking...ah, that was why!

We felt 'at home' between steps 5 and 6 as this is where we spent our wonderful week in the cave at Bacor Oliver. We waved at Mount Jabalcon and at the house that we didn't buy - 'Cortijo Zorro' - well, at the land that is visible from the motorway.

For the first one third, the road from 6 (Baza) to 10 (Albox) (- I guess 7, 8 and 9 are somewhere behind 10) was absolutely gorgeous! We loved it and saw lots of villages that we want to explore in the future. From then on, we were increasingly less impressed and then we hit Albox and from there to 12 and the motorway that leads down to Almeria, we didn't like. We continued on to a little place high up in the mountains to view the house that in the pictures looked perfect but which in reality was totally unsuitable, However, it had some fantastic land to explore and the owners were a remarkable old English couple who were most entertaining. We had a very pleasant visit - politely making it clear that their house wasn't what we were looking for; I would hate to have raised their hopes of a sale unnecessarily.




Although we could see the sea from the mountain, we were told it would take us around 40 minutes to get there and we were ravenously hungry for our picnic, so we stopped in a strange but wonderful spot to eat.












 
We were overlooking a quarry, with the sea just visible, surrounded by herbs - thyme, rosemary, sage and lavender - and the smell was totally sense-tingling!

After we'd eaten, we gathered a few fallen fruits from nearby trees and which also gave off a scent that was almost 100 times stronger than we were used to - the lemons in particular were sensational! Scoffing mandarin oranges, we headed off for the coast and found a deserted beach in the currently empty seaside town of Garrucha, just north of Mojacar, where the Mediterranean was producing gently crashing waves.

As the sun began to sink behind the mountains, we headed off to see what Mojacar was like. I had imagined it - not sure why - to be a moorish red stone town so was surprised to see a totally white hill village - gobsmackingly white, gobsmackingly hilly! This is a photograph taken from the www.kasbah.es because I didn't manage to take a photograph myself as we arrived - too gobsmacked!

Inside, Mateo and I pondered at what point a hill becomes a village? Although from a distance, the hill was the most obvious feature, once we were 'inside' we were obviously in a village...







Mateo thought this was what Lindworm Castle must have been like. (Lindworm Castle is a place in 'The City of Dreaming Books' by Walter Moer - if you like odd, you will like this!)

This image is from the book - illustrated by the author - and I see what he means but perhaps Mojacar wasn't quite so 'pointy'...

View from the top of the village











Comparing this to Salobreña, where we went a couple of weeks ago, I was struck by how much more of a tourist area this part of Spain seemed. This was Saturday, it was a beautiful sunny day and there was hardly anyone around. In Salobreña, families were out and about, the bars were full and people were clearly living in the area. In and around Garrucha and Mojacar, the few people we saw were English (of the retired type) or French and Dutch in big motorhomes parked up near the sea. There were very few Spanish families out walking and many of the bars and shops were closed up - not just for Saturday afternoon - presumably until the tourists arrive in their droves. This is quite rare - Spanish people like walking about and do it a lot!

The journey gave us a lot of food for thought as we drove back - into the sunset as it happens - and at risk of appearing too self-satisfied, have to admit we had yet another really lovely day here in Southern Spain.

Granada or chips.. or Jaen?

I've resisted committing to paper (well, the electronic stuff) our emerging plans for the new year in case we changed our minds yet again. But a few things have happened these past few weeks that have helped to crystallise things a little.
The first was before we were ill when Cesar was planning a visit to Guadix in Granada to arrange to rent a house for us. Having spoken to several agents it became clear that there were very few places available but when one asked if we were coming to work at the new solar plant, a penny dropped. A brand new, enormous solar plant is opening soon near Guadix and this particular agents admitted that they were being inundated with people moving into the area to either come and work there or to try and find work there and demand was by far outstripping supply.  It didn't take us very long to decide that at this time, Guadix was not for us - we already knew that there were only two spare places at the secondary school there and we couldn't bear to move down and find that these had gone before we had chance to get ourselves a home. SO - we made a momentous decision and decided we would head for a place that we visited during our time down in Granada, but that I didn't write about because we liked Guadix better at the time. This place is called Alcala la Real - and - oh gosh, it's NOT IN GRANADA! It's very, very close.... it's only just over the provincial border in Jaen.. but it's not in Granada.

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We looked at a couple of old properties in the area around Alcala la Real but didn't really like any of them because they were a bit small though they both had lovely land with olive trees and almonds and cherries but the lovely estate agent, Raquel who was about 7 months pregnant and who felt like a real friend by the time we left her, insisted that we drive through Alcala before we left to go back to Guadix. She was very proud of her town and when we approached it, we could see why - it was a very beautiful place. Smaller than Guadix and with a quieter sense of it's own Moorish history but impressive nevertheless.
We've ummed and ahhed about it ever since but we both immediately felt that it was not worthwhile being determined to go to Guadix if it were to prove even slightly difficult when really... the whole of Andalucia lies in front of us with such a variety of lovely offerings that we couldn't fail to find somewhere else.
So that was the first thing.

The second has been the visit from my sister - which would always be a welcome occasion - but the timing of this particular visit has been a true godsend. As a family of five living with los abuelos, we have done extremely well for the past four months but when flu struck and resistance was low, a few little ructions started to emerge and the usually manageable irritations (let's call them that) became stress points (we'll call them that as well) and there have been a little fraying of tempers and the occasional flow of tears. Judy's arrival cleared the tension and we've ended the week back to our usual cheerful and jolly selves. From being desperate to get away, to run away, to be on our own again to make our own decisions about what we eat or when (cos that's been the main frustration - nothing much more!) - we're back on an even keel and looking forward to having a happy Christmas together and talking about how soon they can come and visit us. It's much better and makes leaving much more 'natural'.

And the final thing has been the lovely conversations we've had with the schools down there, where the people who answer the phone have been friendly, cheerful, informative and happy to discuss taking on a boy who will need a little extra help with his Spanish. Here, the school Mateo goes to has been very resistant to helping him and we've had to push and push to get his English teacher to understand that Mateo should not be doing the same things as the other Spanish children do in the lesson - that he knows how to answer questions such as: 'Do you have a dog?' or 'Have you any brothers?' - that he could be offered more challenge or focus on additional Spanish language support. Two weeks ago, they offered him some extra, after school classes - since which time, there has been a holiday and he's been ill and missed a couple of classes - so limited value. A city like Valladolid has a lot of tourism and people come from all over Europe and Asia to visit but immigrants who come to live here tend to come from other Hispanic countries and already speak Spanish. There are relatively few non-Spanish speakers in the schools and quite simply, the authorities are quite poor at providing for them. It's quite different in Andalucia as there is a wide influx of people from many different countries and so the language support is already in place. It will be quite a relief!!

So - we will be packing up and setting off soon after Christmas, weather permitting, for another adventure in our new life here in Spain. But for now, we will really enjoy the run up to Christmas, the preparations, the last days of school and the planning of our special meals together. In peace, not in pieces!

Granada? Or chips?

Granada! Without hesitation!

Our recent visit to the province of Granada has moved me deeply - as much for the lovely, happy, funny people we met there as the stunning and spectacular surroundings.

Why did we go to Granada..? I need to recap to see if there is any logic at all left in my life!

• Began planning for a move to Spain in March of this year
• Cesar visited Galicia, Asturias and Leon to check out locations and potential properties
• Almost moved immediately to a village in Leon called La Urz
• Having upped sticks in August with the intention of settling in Leon, northern Spain, we deposited all our belongings in a large barn belonging to FR's parents - so that we could get at them relatively easily once we had found our new home.
• We went to stay at FR's parent's house in Valladolid, some 120kms further south - somewhere to stay free of charge; place to plan from; a known environment for the children.

(so far so good)

• Looked around Leon for suitable properties and found we were not overly impressed at what was available, the prices being asked and the access to schools for the children
• Moved east to Las Montanas Palentinas - specifically Aguilar de Campoo - which I fell in love with and where Mateo would go to school in a beautiful romanic building that used to be a monastery.
• Spent many days and weekends back and forth in glorious sunshine, checking out properties with Andres and Ramon, our two friendly estate agents in the area.
• Saw every house available that we could afford to think about.
• Put in a bid on a house there that was nearly what we wanted and that we visited twice and really liked..but.. offer rejected and we were secretly relieved.

(Bear with me, this is quite cathartic)

•  Reach mid-September and suddenly the temperature drops - frisson runs down my spine and it's of displeasure and is rather unexpected - I thought I liked the idea of hot summers and cold winters, what with chocolate and knitting being my hobbies. Hmmm.
• FR immediately suggests we move to Alicante.
• The idea leaves me with more frissons, together with shudders of aversion - the snob in me rising to the surface - Alicante is full of expat Brits and I did not want to go there.
• Managed to discover that the schools there teach in Valencian - which is a dialect of Spanish and not Spanish like what it should be spoke. (Castillian). So there I had my excuse for not going to Alicante, plus the weather there is TOO good - like living in soup. No, I would not go to Alicante.
• Had to identify another, more southerly option.
• Malaga was out - we'd lived there 15 years ago and loved it but it's too hot in summer and too coastal and just too expensive.
• And then I remembered Granada!
• Swim in the morning and ski in the afternoon - the province of Granada stretches from the sea to the Sierra. We had visited the Alhambra twice when we lived in Malaga and been totally blown away by it and the drive through the Andalucian countryside on the way.
• So I started looking around Granada and liked what I saw.

But it wasn't just how fantastic the countryside was to look at, where every turn was even more breathtaking than the last...

But the sheer joy and fun that seemed to radiate from the people who live there was highly contagious. We had limped down the motorway with a ridiculous problem with the car - the radiator cap had developed a fault and about one third of the way down, when we stopped, water started bubbling out of the radiator. Refusing to be daunted on a Sunday before a bank holiday, we waited for the engine to cool and plodded on. However, FR stopped to check things after about half an hour and as he pulled the bonnet release, nothing happened and - despite huge efforts on all our parts - absolutely refused to open again. The cable had come off but at the bonnet catch end, not at the end in the car, so getting to it was impossible. (I'll get to my point soon). With another 400kms to go, but 250kms behind us, we decided to 'keep on swimming, just keep swimming' - which is my Doryesque response to all technical problems! And FR agreed. And we got there and had no more problems.

Monday was a 'bank holiday' in Spain - or a fiesta - and so everything was closed and we could do nothing about the car other than hope it would be OK. We had arranged to see a few houses with an English agent and we had to flag him to stop at one point as the fuel gauge suddenly started to go down in front of our eyes and we were sure that petrol must be pouring out along the road behind us. But it wasn't - it's the car, poor thing, that is going through a crisis as ...it has been written off by my insurance company and it's going to be taken from us.  So we reassured it and told it how wonderful it had been and all was well for the rest of the day. 

We didn't find a house we wanted but we met a wonderful baker who would have been our neighbour at one of the properties. He was 87 and called Marcelino - like the boy in the film 'Pan y Vino' - and positively twinkled. I couldn't understand a word he said to start with but when I told him this, he immediately dropped his Andalucian accent and spoke a lovely Spanish to me, saying he used to live in Vitoria in the north. We bought bread, madelenas and a wonderful apple tart from his daughter. who was now doing the baking and we inspected their wonderful, wood-burning bread oven and he told us we could come and bake things there .... FR thought of his beloved pizzas and for a moment, it was very tempting!

On Tuesday, we spent the morning with another estate agent, this time Irish, who most kindly took us to his own home to show what is possible to make out of a cave. I thought it was lovely as it was but he has plans to create an Irish bar in his lounge and has dug the space to put in a Roman bath in one of the cave rooms, along with a cinema area...a gregarious man, he was! 

In the evening, we decided we had to do something to sort the car out, so went into Baza, which is a town of medium size near where we were staying. Enquiring after a mechanic, we were directed to a small workshop, where a blond Spanish mechanic gamely bashed, poked, fiddled and pulled at the bonnet to no avail. So he told us to try the Citroen garage at the top of the hill. But all the time he was working, he was laughing and joking with FR and thoroughly enjoying the challenge. And when we got to the Citroen garage, we had three chaps of varying ages - at least, one looked very young and one looked very old - again, poking, pulling, inserting metal instruments and scratching their heads but without result. Then one started to jack the car up on one side and crawled underneath with a long hook thing... and with a pwang! the bonnet released!! Hurray!  He then checked the radiator cap, showed us the fault, brought us another one, fitted it ... all with a constant laughing and chatting and funny comments. We'd been there for almost half an hour and we were only asked to pay the 6 euros for the radiator cap! We left feeling we'd had a really good night out with friends!

And all the neighbours around the cave house have stopped to chat and tell us how they love the village and the caves and the food and each other... and look, a man with his donkeys!

And although they were not local, I can't not mention the lovely family (whose house we really, really wanted to buy but for a few reasons that I won't go into but that were deeply felt enough for us to decide against buying) - Gayil, Alan and Jamie - who were from Scotland! And living so happily with their donkeys and ponys in the middle of the Sierra de Baza and who weren't leaving the area but needed to live closer to amenities in the town because of their health.. gosh, they were very special people and I wish them all the very best. I hope they find buyers soon and I hope they won't mind me posting a very beautiful picture I took of their house looking at it's very best..

And Nick the 'unestatey' estate agent from the unlikely state of Idaho and on whom many of my hopes are now pinned and who is currently charged with finding us a rental place because we have to go back and we have to do it as soon as we can.. and I think he's found us somewhere but I'll tell you more when I am sure. Ah yes; Nick was lovely too and quietly so smug that he lived in this gorgeous corner of the world and so much more enthusiastic about the people than the properties, which was such a nice change from the other agents, who were only really trying to sell us a view or a pool or a sunny patio. 

And on the Sunday, we decided to look at Guadix - the other main town in the area - and it was yet another breath-taking sight (though we didn't meet any people there as we were on a drive-through visit on our way home). And all thoughts of ever living anywhere else just slipped from my mind.

Red sandstone buildings, with a backdrop of snowy mountains.

  Arabic castle remains and a huge network of cave houses - over 10,000 people live in the caves around Guadix.

Narrow cobbled streets and wide, fountained plazas.

Guadix is a stunning place and the sun shone on us all the time of our stay.

 

So that's how I changed from looking in northern to southern Spain in just three short months - sorry to anyone who was hoping to explore the area and stay with us to do it!!