The promised land

Posted on January 13, 2012 by Paul

Amanda and I have had a great week in Galicia.

We signed off the first phase of the barn conversion, met the builder to discuss getting quotes for the second phase and some other works on the property, agreed with the carpenter that he could install the balcony and asked him for a quotation for the windows and doors, and met with the architect who didn’t throw a ‘hissy fit’ at our revised thoughts for the big house and agreed that we could get on with ‘repairing’ its roof (more on all these in later blogs).

We achieved a lot but for the whole week there was an elephant in the room. And that elephant weighs two and a half tons, is sun-bleached blue, has proved to be somewhat temperamental over the last few months, and has an Ifor Williams aluminium back on it.

The pre-Christmas storms and high seas that forced me to cancel my original plans and head home courtesy of EasyJet turned what should have been a pleasant four day inspection visit, punctuated by leisurely meetings with friends over good food and cheap wine, into a week long quest to repatriate the Land Rover via the Santander to Portsmouth ferry.

What made it even worse was that I had to make the two hundred mile journey on my own, with part of my support network back visiting the UK, in a car in which I have absolutely no confidence, and all on Friday the thirteenth.

After a freezing night sleeping in my coat, hat and scarf in Casa Ramon I ate a breakfast which felt more like a last supper, and with a heavy heart packed my worldly possessions into the back of the Landy. After scraping ice off the windscreen and checking she was full of all the important fluids I turned the key more in hope than expectation. But she started within a couple of seconds and we were off.

I listened to every creak and groan for the first half hour, then decided that a loud stereo was the best option as I chugged my way out of Galicia and into Asturias. Fifty miles under our (mine and the Landys) collective belt and out of nowhere the most embarrassing moment of all my time in Spain, I was pulled by the police…for going too slowly!

I’ll never live this one down.

On a single carriageway (in each direction) road, I’d moved over to the right and straddled the hard shoulder to allow an overly-aggressive and impatient HGV driver to pass me unaware that he was being followed by the rozzers, in two police cars. As soon as he’d passed me they turned on their blue lights and indicated for me to pull over. Plod No.1 came to my window while Plod No.2 made a quick disapproving inspection of the Landy.

‘Why did you pull over’, I think he asked.

I decided to go for the sympathy vote and put on my ‘being bullied at school voice’ to tell him in my best Spanish (with the only words I know) ‘It was the big car (HGV) in my downstairs (I keep forgetting the word for behind) and I drive right for big car to pass’. It was sufficient for him to understand. For good measure I added ‘my car is very slow’. He didn’t smile, unlike Galician policemen Asturian policemen don’t smile.

‘Drive more quickly’ he said, and plod No.2 watched the traffic before waving me back onto the carriageway.I think I got off lightly. No need for a document inspection or evidence of my flourescent jacket, spare bulb kit or spare spectacles, and they didn’t seem to hear the wrecked exhaust rasping away while brake fluid, power steering fluid and oil all slowly mingled seeped onto the road underneath me.

I then had a nervous ten kilometres to drive being followed by two police cars and being very conscious not to drive too slowly while keeping within the speed limits. Mercifully they pulled off at the next cafe and I continued my laborious, and uneventful way to Santander.

 

The promised (by Neil) land, Landy on the far left

Just over five and a half hours after I left the two hundred miles was complete and I arrived at the promised land, promised by my mechanic friend Neil, who’d stopped to wave me off this morning and assured me that she’d ‘make it with no problems’.

All I have left to do is make the two miles to the dockside in the morning. To ensure this I’ve booked a hotel on the edge of town with a downhill run all the way to the port. It’s a ‘Hotel School’ which is used to teach people how to be chefs and hoteliers, and pretty nice it is too at just 55 Euros for the night.

Much better than sleeping in the Landy.

 

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Home is where the heart lies

Posted on December 29, 2011 by Paul

I’ve now been home for a fortnight and with little news to share about the house I have been reticent to blog. I’ve also been trying to come to terms with my return to Yorkshire and rationalise my feelings about being ‘home’ after two months in Galicia/Asturias. When I try and analyse how I’m feeling, I can only come to the conclusion that I must be a little depressed.

I love my country (and county) of birth, and Amanda and I are not looking to move to Spain out of a dislike 0f UK society, more out of a desire for a different, slower and ultimately healthier life.

We’ve both worked hard for over twenty years and had a good living from UK society, embracing consumerism and all the trappings of being DINKies (double income no kids). We are both coming to the conclusion that material things are decreasingly important to us and that life is about more than amassing ‘stuff’. After two months living in the slow lane of the Iberian backwaters, there are a few observations and contrasts that I can make about British/English life.

  • The first few days back home were…’bewildering’. Everything in the UK is done at pace; driving, eating, talking, shopping, drinking alcohol and making decisions. It has taken me a fortnight, and a big scrape down the bumper of my car (requiring a trip to the body shop), for me to get back up to anything like speed.
  • There seems to be an awful lot of unplanned and unnecessary death in the UK. Over Christmas there seemed to be a conveyor belt of horrific murders, each one picked apart by a hungry and ghoulish British press and TV media. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of death in Spain, but it is usually down to people driving too fast, or on the wrong side of the road. It’s not over a pair of trainers, or because your skin is a different colour!
  • I can’t believe the price of fruit and vegetables here. I nearly passed out on my first visit to our regular supermarket. One kilo of apples for £1.85, I was buying a kilo for 70 cents (60p) in Spain…and they tasted like apples there. The same applies to cauliflowers, peppers and mushrooms. It can’t all be down to transport costs and I suspect that it is supermarkets exploiting the consumer as we all strive to follow the governments five-a-day campaign.
  • When it rains here you can write off the whole day. In Galicia the rain is usually quickly followed by sunshine giving you the potential for all of the seasons in one day. In winter it never really seems to get light here, no wonder people get SAD.
  • The coffee here is awful, insipid, weak and tasteless. To be honest it is close to undrinkable and I’m back on tea, which I never drank in Spain.

We’re back to Spain early in the New Year for various meetings, and I’m staying on for a couple of extra days to hopefully enable me to repatriate the Landrover. I’m already starting to stress about its chances of making the boat in Santander. Perhaps I’m just looking for an excuse to further extend my trip.

Home is where the heart lies, and mine is increasingly lying in Galicia.

 

 

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Hasta luego España

Posted on December 15, 2011 by Paul

There was always going to be another twist to my journeys tale, and I thought that it would be Landrover related.

I’ve just landed at a Stansted, back on home soil for the first time in two months, three full days ahead of schedule. And it’s freezing!

Late last night I received an e-mail from Brittainy Ferries, quickly followed by an SMS, telling me that Saturday’s sailing from Bilbao to Portsmouth had been cancelled due to bad weather. On phoning the emergency number it turned out that the boat was stuck in England and 9 to 10 metre swell meant that it wouldn’t be in Spain for some days.

I was offered a sailing on the 21st but with no guarantee of that one going ahead there was the chance that I’d be spending Christmas alone in Galicia. That wouldn’t have been popular at home.

I made the decision to get bumped onto a sailing in mid-January, which coincides nicely with Amanda and I visiting to see the architect/builder, and booked myself on this lunchtimes Easyjet flight from Asturias to Manchester.

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I had no time to pack, to say goodbye (except to Neil who gave me a lift to the airport), or to prepare myself for re-integrating back into normal life. I did, however, get chance to buy myself a ticket for the ‘El Gordo’ lottery which is held on the 22nd December.

I’ve now got three and a half hours of train journey ahead of me, for which I am paying almost double what it just cost me for the flight!

I need my number to come up on El Gordo to cover the cost of getting home.

Hasta luego España, see you early in the New Year.

Did I mention that it is freezing here!

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Last day on site: Photo special

Posted on December 14, 2011 by Paul

Today was my last day on site during phase one of the barn conversion. It was the day that I tidied up the mess that I have spent the last few weeks creating, the day I packed away my overalls and work boots, my last day of freedom before returning to my regular day job.

I’m sad to be leaving and was it not for Amanda and my two moggies back in England I could quite easily place a few phone calls and make arrangements never to return. I’ve had a brilliant time, despite the continual Landy problems, and made some great new friends who have re-inforced my opinion that the decision to move here permanently is the right one.

The main reason to clean site was to enable me to take a few photographs to can send them to our solictor to sort out our insurance, now we have something worth insuring. A nice by-product is that I can share them on the blog to show you how the site looks at the end of the first phase, and advance of the second which should see it through to completion within a few months of us getting our full planning permission through.


The cabazo;

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History on the doorstep

Posted on December 13, 2011 by Paul

I’ve always liked history. What I like is to visit historical sites and gather enough visual evidence to enable me try to imagine life being lived as it was in previous centuries or millennia. I should really have been an archaeologist…but my knees aren’t up to it, so I have to get my history kicks by conventional tourist means.

We’ve visited Taramundi (almost the last stop in Asturias before you enter Galicia) on at least half a dozen occasions and I have been using it as my base for the last seven weeks. I’d heard rumours of a Castro (ancient Celtic hill settlement) on a number of occasions but despite a couple of casual attempts, it had proved somewhat elusive.

That was until sunday afternoon when I decided to walk to Neil and Rosas taking Neils suggested short-cut with a near vertical footpath down into the valley bottom, matched by one equally as steep up the other side. Not a journey I’d like to attempt after a good evening crawling around Taramundi’s four bars.

As I left the southern edge of the village I spied to my right a grass footpath and a sign for the Castro, so followed it and there it was, within 100 metres of my apartment door.

Taramundi Castro

Reputed to have been built in the eighth or seventh century B.C. it occupies the edge of the hill with a brilliant view down two valleys, but still benefitting from some shelter from higher ground to the north.  The site is around two hectares in size making it a major bronze age settlement, and contains an area of baths and a sauna. The site was protected all around by a large (6m wide by 4m deep) defensive trench over which the modern road now runs. I’d hypothesise that the castro originally continued further up the hill towards the main road through Taramundi but that centuries of building and habitation will have wiped out any further trace.

Excavated and protected

The strategic importance of the site saw it become a major trading centre during Roman times and it was inhabited for over one thousand years before it fell into disrepair in the third century A.D.

The site was re-discovered in 1969 but the major excavations took place in 2000 and have recently led to the development of a visitor centre with a classroom attached.

It is a spectacular sight, but some of the reconstructions (to protect the dry stone walling of the circular dwellings) won’t be to everyone’s liking. Much of the site still remains under soil and is awaiting the archaeologists trowel. From the bit that is visible it is possible to use a bit of imagination to picture; the immaculate thatched roofs; children and animals running around and having fun in the summer sun; smoke from the ubiquitous fires; and, the smell of food wafting on the air.

All this right on my doorstep, and a sight which will be missed by many of the tourists who visit Taramundi throughout the year who are more interested in good food and buying the knives for which Taramundi is famed.

 

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