The people in Spain – the english

A few pen pictures with imaginary names.I met John at the bus stop, we stood in pouring rain, sheltering under the canvas roof of an ice cream parlour. He was in his 40’s, I actually thought he was spanish, he thought I was german or swedish. He had been here for 5 years, and was sort of making a living giving golf lessons. He was off to Benidorm on the bus to celebrate his birthday alone, because his mates did not like the rain!  Obviously in chatty mood he told me he had just paid 15000 euros for membership of a golf club in the form of shares, which could actually be sold on when leaving the club.He was living without documentation, and I guess had many more irons in the fire,however the likelihood of me having a similar conversation with someone at the bus stop in England would be quite rare, so I wished him a happy birthday, when I arrived at my stop.

Jan, I met yesterday, she and her husband run a bar in Altea, they have lived here for three years, and her only regret is that they did not do it sooner. Jan is 50 and it seems clear that the bar is more of a social centre for people who live there. It is like a community centre she laughed. Various classes take place in the function room next door. Art on Monday, keep fit Tuesday, but I was most taken by Jan’s glowing account of the benefits to her family, since coming to live in Spain.When they first decided to come, their daughter, who  had four children, was inconsolable that her parents were leaving. Jan’s own parents were ill ,her mum had cancer, and her dad had had a stroke.Her mum has been out 5 times in 2 years, and has a wonderful time each time she visits. One daughter now lives in Spain, and the rest of the family visit regularly. they all enjoy the climate, the relaxed way of life, and they do a lot more sightseeing together, and picnics on the beach, than they would back in England.Jan says that it is her time now, to fulfill her dreams, and the whole family benefit in the process.

Anthea is a salt of the earth woman from Wales, whom I met on the girls’s night out. She sat next to me while I poured out my tale of woe about the missing car. Don’t worry about it she said, look you might as well enjoy yourself this evening, and sort it out in the morning.Give my address and say you are just staying with me for a few weeks, and why don’t you come round next Wednesday and have a nosey round my place. She wore her red and black devil’s horns with aplomb, and I guess was going to have a whale of a night in Benidorm. On my left that night was Gail, who spends months travelling through France and Spain with her husband, and renting a friends apartment for the winter months. They like to walk, and join the Friday walking group most weeks. They have just started long haul holidays, and have been to Australia, India and China. They have always been interested in keeping fit, and are really enjoying their current life.Anthea was going to give Benidorm a miss, which was good for me as her husband gave me a lift back to Altea.

Trouble in Paradise

The challenges of this week were certainly about to accelerate. I decided to wear trousers on the girls night out, jazzing up my outfit with a feather boa in honour of halloween, as several of the group of 35 were coming dressed as witches, or brides of Dracula, in preparation for a wild night out in Benidorm.I decided to take the car, and leave it in the Albir Gardens Hotel car park overnight.

That was the plan, however the car was not in the place I had left it. Anxious enquiries of people in an adjacent bar revealed that it had been towed away by the police, and that it would cost 150 euros to get it back. In a state of shock and with time ticking by, I quickly decided to abandon the feather boa and car keys, and get a taxi to the venue, where at least I could find out more about retrieving the car, and drown my sorrows with the witches of Benidorm. In retrospect this was a good idea. Not only had some of them been in this position, but they told me to take the cash with me and my passport, and that the car pound would be shut for the night now, so I might as well have a good time and enjoy my half bottle of wine. This was good advice, I had an enjoyable evening, and a lift back with some fellow car pound victims. “They always do this when there is a fiesta coming up and they have to pay for all the lights and fireworks.” Whether this is a local english fable I have no way of knowing, there were 3 other cars lifted from that same spot, and 3 yellow stickers left on the pavement telling the owners what had happened.

The witches quite understood why I did not feel like joining them in Benidorm, and I was able to retrieve the car the next day, with a taxi to the police station, and another to the car pound, situated at extreme ends of Altea another win win situation for the taxi drivers! After depositing the car in a safer place, I decided that today would be the day I went swimming; and so it was. Packed the bike with rug, and book and suncream, and cycled to Albir, where the warm november sun dissipated any vague paranoid feelings that hung around, and yes I could stay in the sea in November and have the sun dry me. Paradise restored