I drove up to Granada this weekend: surely one of the most beautiful cities of them all. My passenger commented on the evident kindness of the people there (she’s from Germany, where, apparently, life is much more serious).
We ate well, and stayed in a converted palace just up from the ayuntamiento. From there, we walked up the hill to overlook the city from the lush comfort of a large private estate open to the public.
One bar we found in the Sacromonte district had developed the tapa theme into bringing out a plate of ‘Número Uno’ or perhaps ‘Número Dos’ with the understanding that whatever came, it would be fresh, delicious, and newly prepared.
Spain is so full of pleasant surprises, as readers will know well enough. It’s a good life.
At the same time, there are also some trivial disadvantages to living here as we are also aware. A post on Facebook from Expats in Spain highlights a few of these:
*The paperwork. Oh, goodness yes – the bureaucracy can be a pain. So complicated and often silly. We suppose that it’s because that vast army of public servants must find something to do to fill their days.
*The traffic police and their parking and speeding fines. I don’t notice this much in the south, but my friend Colin from Pontevedra appears to rarely enjoy a peaceful day without finding a multa lying malevolently in his letterbox.
*The number of Walter Mitty clones. This refers to a book by James Thurber about a man who claims a false history of his life before he moved over to Spain. We have all met plenty of these characters, and we know to always take anything they say with a pinch of salt.
*Then there was an answer I gave to the Expats post which reads: ‘To be wary of your fellow countrymen abroad’. Indeed, another well-visited page on Facebook called ‘Named and Shamed, Costa Blanca’, with over 41,000 members, deals with exactly this subject.
My post above has received (so far) sixty one ‘likes’, showing that many of us have been taken by a glib ‘I speak the lingo’, or ‘let me help, I can get it for you cheaply’ and so on.
In my own case, I’ve been caught out innumerable times over the years, almost always by fellow-Brits. I’ve written a piece about it which I shall publish someday.
During my time, I’ve been ripped off by burglars, thieves, con-men, carpet-baggers, scoundrels, drunkards and dopers; and to keep a balance, also by cantamañanas (fantasizers) here and there and of course leguleyos (dodgy lawyers).
I think there are three basic ways for a foreigner to survive in Spain: either by having an income from abroad, or from working here, or by living on his wits (at the inevitable expense of others).
But these are experiences – and each person will collect their own. I certainly don’t regret one moment of my life in this splendid country.