Our Andalucian paradise

Lonesome window. Photo © Karethe Linaae

When we bought a ramshackle village house in Ronda nine years back, we had no idea that it would take more than two years to get the building permit from the municipality as well as the regional culture department. That was of course before they threw in an archaeological dig, even though our shack was a mere slender 3x12-meter wedge squeezed between - and sharing exterior walls with - other houses on an impossibly narrow dead-end street.
 

Mystery. Photo © Karethe Linaae

We knew neither our builder nor his many helpers, who for the most part were hard working and honest village folks. Not surprisingly, we had our share of dramas and tragedies – the gopher who always knocked back a couple of shots of Anís liquor for breakfast and who fell off the ladder and had to take a sick leave so he couldn’t get drunk on our clock for a while. Or the most conscientious bricklayer who drove an hour every morning to get to the worksite, but who didn’t show up one day. Nobody told us anything, but after a while, we heard that he had been found dangling from an oak tree.

Feet. Photo © Karethe Linaae

All in all, the building project went well, and we got our slice of Andalucian paradise - even though the electrician mounted some electric boxes in inaccessible places or at odd heights, and the so-called bombproof micro-cement floor that we had insisted on, had to be redone three times and finally be covered with tiles so that in the end we could have brought in a mosaic-artist from Venice or a flooring specialist from the Norwegian woods to do the job and still had money to spare. Anyhow…

Barely started. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Floor in progress. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Whether a task is performed on the ever-elastic mañana or perhaps not at all, is not always due to the handymen, as deliveries and suppliers can also delay the building process. But even if our patience was tried on more than one occasion, I would have done the whole process again - if nothing else for the cathartic experience.

Ceiling with natural skylights. Photo © Karethe Linaae

I do not regret for a second that we took on the almost impossible task of transforming a crooked and ever so quaint ruin into our present village abode.
 

View behind the ruin. Photo © Karethe Linaae

How else would we have been able to witness how they removed the old Arabic-style roof tiles (that are compulsory to use in our historic neighbourhood) one by one, put new tiles underneath, and then covered these with the beautiful old moss-covered terracotta tiles?

Roof tiles with meadow flowers. Photo © Karethe Linaae

How else would we have been able to observe the way that they carefully hollowed out the front door opening in our meter-thick facade, so that the town’s (or perhaps the world’s?) smallest excavator could pass through with millimetres to spare on either side, to miraculously scoop out soil and debris from inside the inordinately narrow property?

Digging deep. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Or how else would we have seen how an enormous cement truck managed to squeeze itself down our appendix of a street to poor cement from a trunk-like contraption into the formerly foundation-free house?

The big guns. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Or how would we have been able to admire the skill it took to configure a custom-designed modern railing-less flight of stairs into the corner nook where the old and crumbling walled-in staircase had been?

Stairway to heaven. Photo © Karethe Linaae

After. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Or how would we be able to follow our carpenter, the sombre introvert Juan, as he built our wooden doors and windows by hand - from scratch, once we had finally found the rusty antique doornails that I had dreamt about?

Doornail. Photo © Karethe Linaae

It is evident that such transformations take time. A couple of extra mañanas – or a few hundred of them in our case- is only to be expected. But the entire process did wonders for my Spanish, and we got to know virtually every handyman and tinkerer, as well as every lumberyard and slate quarry in the entire Serranía.

So why in heaven's name would I want to be without such an experience?
 

With Rafael, the architect. Photo © Jaime de la Barrera

Little creatures. Photo © Karethe Linaae


People I have met that have impressed me the most, are almost always individuals who give unlimited of themselves in some volunteer capacity. The act of choosing to share one’s time, knowledge, energy, resources, conviction, or compassion is the greatest gift one can offer others. At the same time, the giver receives an indescribable joy back, which is incomparable with most other activities.

Pure joy. Photo © Karethe Linaae

Before we moved to Spain, I worked for an international organization that taught life-saving surgical skills to health workers in Africa. I had the pleasure of meeting some incredible people who inspired everyone around them. Take Paul, a paediatric spinal surgeon who spent most of his vacations teaching in Africa and operating on children with spinal injuries in Bhutan – voluntarily and out of his pocket. It is incredible how some people can simply give and give without ever seeming to run out of compassion for others!

Juan is always willing to be a surrogate mum for his piglets. Photo © Karethe Linaae

It is easy to feel powerless with all the cruelties that humans cause each other these days, but regardless of what happens, we can always help others in our own, perhaps humble and limited, ways. Giving back is part of their daily routine for some people, whether they scrub pots in a soup kitchen, do nature clean-ups, care for unwanted animals, offer a hand to an elderly person crossing the street, sign a petition or found an NGO.  Whatever we do to improve the lives of others or create a better society at large, is a step in the right direction. As Mother Theresa said, “We call cannot do great things, but we can all do small things with great love”.

Teach the kids in the hood English. Photo © Karethe Linaae

The last couple of years have been a great trial for many, and our challenges are not over. It is increasingly difficult to hold onto the faith that there are more good people than evil ones in this world. But even if the abyss feels menacingly near, at least I will continue to donate my quarter pint of blood a couple of times a year, fight tirelessly for the environment and carry the shopping bags for our elderly neighbours.

A supporting arm. Photo © Karethe Linaae

A volunteer act is good for the soul, enriches our lives, gets us out of the sofa, and perhaps even out of our comfort zone. It forces us to meet new people, expand our social circle, increase our communication and language skills, and learn new abilities. Volunteering brings joy to the giver and the receiver – whether we are helping another human being, an animal, or a tree.

Plants and flowers are the lunges of the earth. Photo © Karethe Linaae

The most important thing is perhaps not what we do to help, but whether do something to help others.  

Forget me not. Photo © Karethe Linaae