Reconciliation and rediscovery

The summer of 2004 saw me head back to Spain for an indefinite period of time. My goal was to decide where to head next, with my preference being for somewhere on the other side of the world. My experience in Paris had left me drained, weary and demoralized by the abject selfishness, greed, rampant individualism, physical and moral violence so omnipresent in that society. I felt completely fed up with life in modern Europe. Initially I just lay back and relaxed, basking in the sun’s healing rays. After living in the centre of one of Europe’s largest metropolis I found myself feeling insecure about being alone in a big house at night in a fairly isolated spot. I guess it was just another example of the strangely insipid paranoia that urban life instils in us. After a few weeks I began to long for something to do at night, for some company. My Spanish had gone badly rusty making initial contacts with the locals trying. Fortunately I persevered.

By the autumn of 2004 I was exploring the Granada province just like I would have any other holiday destination. I realized the area had evolved a lot and was determined to rid myself of any prejudices I held from the past. I have always loved mountainous regions and when I rediscovered the Alpujarras and Sierra Nevada I was in awe of their raw, dry beauty. I discovered a new sensitivity for evocative Moorish architecture and aesthetics. Days spent lazing on the beach at Cantarrijan with a good book brought back my inner peace and enthusiasm. I also returned to an invigorating outdoor life walking, swimming and living under the sun as nature intended. One day while watching the bright sun glistening on the crystalline waves, it suddenly dawned on me that there was no need for me to run off to the other side of the world since the relaxed and peaceful outdoor life I was seeking could be found right here. From that moment on I decided to stay in Spain and give things a go. I still find it ironic that so many people migrate here with preconceptions of settling in the sun whilst I came here with no aspirations at all and have ended up living their dream in a radically different way. I just let things happen spontaneously in their own time with no particular expectations. I soon discovered that this laid back approach to life was shared by the majority of the locals.

It is now autumn 2008 and almost four years to the day since I decided to look no further for my own little corner of paradise. My original instincts were right; below the veneer of tranquil and sunny Andalucia I discovered a myriad of incredible possibilities, thousands of amazing journeys and enticing adventures, many weird and wonderful things that have kept me constantly amused and intrigued. For the first time ever I do not feel permanent wanderlust, nor the desire to explore other countries, perhaps at most the occasional urge to head up to Madrid or Barcelona. Instead I find myself perfectly content to roam around Andalucia, simply happy to live in the spontaneous and jovial manner of its inhabitants. The other day whilst driving down from Madrid I entered Andalucia at Despeñaperros. It was amazing how the landscape and vibe instantly changed and felt familiar, warm and welcoming. I saluted the road sign excitedly, cheered and felt happy to be back where I belong.

The journey to this point has not been especially fraught with difficulties. I have frequently seen people suffering as they try their best to integrate here and admittedly it is not an easy task. I am lucky that I have always loved learning languages and recovering and improving my Spanish was a simple process for me. I did nothing more than try and live like any Spaniard and through total immersion I was soon conversing proficiently. Coming here alone and having previously lived in several different cultures helped me adapt, as did the times I spent here as a teenager that gave me a greater appreciation of the culture than I ever suspected. The linguistic aspect was aided by people’s attitude; every time I spoke to someone they always smiled, pleasantly surprised at meeting a “guiri “(slang for foreigners, principally Northern European ones) who actually attempted to speak their language. The contrast to France, where people would mock the slightest mistake, no matter how well you converse, was radical. Four years on and my Spanish is now fluent and I can even write decently. Language is the key to integration in any society, not just for the communication factor, but also because every language evokes the soul, sensibility, society and culture of those that speak it. It saddens me at times to see the English speaking enclaves that exist along the coasts, principally because were it not for the language barrier a lot of those people would actually discover a society they would like, that opens its arms to people from other places and with which they share a lot more values than they believe.

Being able to speak and read Spanish progressively opened up a whole new world of intriguing discoveries: newspapers, books, radio, conversations with everyone and anyone. I also started exploring more and more areas of the region ably aided by the locals I had met along the way who were always proud for me to discover their favourite haunts. I was amazed at how many wonderful places I kept being taken to and the many fun times I enjoyed. Firstly I got to know Granada, then Almeria, Cadiz, Malaga, Seville and innumerable villages and sierras in between. Gradually I began to understand the way of life, the attitude and philosophy that personify the regional character. At times it has been difficult as instinctively we are all afraid of that which is unknown or misunderstood. It was a trying process coming to grasp with concepts such as family, Semana Santa and certain quirky Catholic attitudes. However once you understand the people and culture you start to appreciate the real motivations that lie behind such manifestations and discover that they contain unexpected charms and attractions. I like to call this cultural relativity; not judging a culture by your own but accepting it the way it is and trying to understand in its own right. It is not an easy attitude to adopt, but the rewards make it well worth it.

This brief description hopefully gives a rough idea of the path that led me to writing these words. Now I can instead concentrate on what I am far more interested in, trying to capture the soul and essence of this wonderful place. During my ongoing adventure of discovering Spain and Andalucia I have learned a surprising amount from the inhabitants about myself and about life. When I first arrived I mistakenly believed myself to be more modern and omniscient than the locals. With time I have discovered that they value the simple and important things in life far more than I ever did. Everything here can be explained by a certain state of mind, a peculiar attitude towards life that may initially seem very foreign and distant but which also contains a great deal of humanity, joy and wisdom. It can manifest itself in innumerable ways from fiestas to festivals, from art to arguments. Andalucia has a very distinct and unique spirit that has survived centuries of changes, migrations and global events without losing its soul and authenticity. People here feel no need to make a big thing of it; they are simply content to enjoy life on a day-to-day basis following the natural rhythms of the harsh climate that defines so much of the regional character.

My period of rediscovering Andalucia has allowed me to find that which I found to be missing in the other areas of Europe I have lived in: passion, soul, community, spontaneity, authenticity and a unique identity that has a lot more substance than superficial lifestyles built on media manipulation and marketing strategies. At times living here produces the sensation of inhabiting the last bastion of Europe resisting cultural and social conformity through sterile globalization. It’s hardly a surprise when you consider that for millennia this region has been the frontier between Europe and other cultures. The people here have seen it all before and what may initially seem a conservative and sceptical approach to change is actually a profound confidence and pride in the value of their own culture. Andalucia takes what it likes from modernity without ever losing its own particular traditions and spirit. As someone who came here as an outsider it is a constant source of pleasure to feel how people consider you one of their own once you adopt their attitude to life. That is the beauty of living in a land where immigration has been a constant factor since the dawn of humanity and where society has maintained certain fundamental values despite radical changes in the world we live in.
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The Beginnings of An Andalucian Adventure

My Andalucian adventures started in 1985. Reminiscing I am still amazed how Spain has evolved at such a vertiginous pace since then. Arriving in Andalucia in those days produced a sensation very similar to crossing the Moroccan border now with the feeling of entering into a very distinct society that had little in common with Northern Europe of the time. Memories flood back of excruciatingly slow Pegaso trucks, winding and decrepit roads, donkeys, herds of goats, the squalid port in Malaga, widows in black, the smell of Ducados and a general aura of a country lagging far behind the rest of Europe in every respect. To my innocent eyes Andalucia appeared poor, undeveloped and socially backwards sharing very little with my teenage concept of life. Yet at the same time I marveled at the majestic landscapes of sierras crashing down into the sea, the simple beauty of the whitewashed villages and the general aura of life being played out at a slow and relaxed pace. It was a huge contrast to the culture and habitat that I had grown up in.

Fate would have it that during our visit we accidentally stumbled upon some land for sale on the coast in Granada. Whilst my parents were looking at a plot of land I wandered off exploring the rocky terrain like the archetypal teenager and sat bored atop a cliff with a big drop below. Instantly I felt a huge sensation of déjà vu as I gazed in stupefaction across to the Sierra de Lujar and Sierra Nevada, or down to the Moorish castle of Salobreña and the sea beyond. Time paused for a second and the view so astounded me that I enthusiastically called my parents over to come and see it. They were equally enthralled. Over the next few years we built a house here that became a place for us to come and relax in peace and tranquility.

I spent a lot of time here up until the tail end of the Eighties although my view of those times was somewhat overwhelmed by my adolescent desire to emancipate myself from anything related to my parents. However I discovered just how much I liked the sensibility of the place and the possibilities it offered: afternoons spent exploring the almond groves, whizzing around on a moped, the beautifully warm and empty beaches, swimming pools, walking in the mountains, jumping from the Peñon in Salobreña into the sea, the monumental football matches with the local kids and easily available alcohol and tobacco. I loved the scenery, the nature, the climate and being able to live outdoors freely without having to worry about anything in particular. Life was simple, natural and fun; never anything to do in a rush, never any stress. Christmas dinner on the terrace was a particular favorite, as was going skiing in Sierra Nevada then spending the next day on the beach. There was Motril with its smoky, noisy bodegas and wonderfully kitsch bowling alley. Despite being a small provincial town that initially appeared somewhat dull and uninspiring it seemed to magically come to life at night, full of merry people out in the streets enjoying themselves. The food also had me intrigued and I quickly took a liking to jamón, San Miguel, queso manchego and the amazing local fish soup where every spoonful would bring another weird and wonderful creature out from the broth. Something about Spanish culture and the Andalucian way of life fascinated me and seemed to perfectly suit my personality, I had even learnt to get by in Spanish. I loved the place but just didn't want to be there with my parents.

Upon becoming an adult I wanted to make my own path in life and discover the world in my own right and on my own terms. From then until my thirties I only came to visit Andalucia occasionally, usually for family visits. I was far too enthralled by big cities, parties, travel and France to have anything more than a passing interest in our tiny village at the end of the Europe. Nonetheless I still felt a warm nostalgia every time I thought about the place, the house, the people, landscapes and climate. It had already earmarked itself a corner in my soul that I intuitively knew would accompany me through life, just not at that particular time.

The summer of 1992 saw me embark on a crazy adventure through Spain, whizzing around from the Olympic games in Barcelona, to Madrid and on to the Expo in Seville, followed by several weeks spent hitching across Andalucia. Spain was now at the height of its frenetic explosion into modernity and I discovered the country in a different light and with a radically different perspective. Something about the atmosphere enthralled me, the passion, the optimism, the mixture of modernity and tradition, the natural ebullience and exuberance of the people. I discovered the main cities and most definitely liked what I saw! Seville, Cordoba and Granada were all on my itinerary as I followed the typical Moorish Andalucia tourist route. I remember feeling in awe of the stunningly beautiful architecture in Seville with its warmly enchanting nights. I can vividly recall marveling at the Mezquita in Cordoba, where I spent some insanely hedonistic nights that contrasted so beautifully with the placid beauty of its historic centre. I was amazed by the stunning beauty and sensuality of the Generalife with its cool water fountains, beautiful gardens and mystical contrasts of light and shade followed by exotic gypsy nights spent in the Albaicin and Sacromonte. I also remember the incredible heat and intense sun, especially while waiting five hours to hitch out of Écija on a 15th of August.

Whilst Madrid and Barcelona excited me with their avant-garde and bold modernity, Andalucia touched a sensibility lurking deeper in my soul with its Moorish traditions and seductive beauty. It had an aura that felt so distinct to anywhere else I had visited in Europe and a mentality that was strangely intriguing yet distant at the same time. However to a person in their early twenties Madrid and Barcelona had far more frivolous attractions that were more in tune with my own cosmopolitan tastes, lifestyle, aspirations and expectations. One thing however was certain; I loved the way Spain had evolved and the general aura of excitement I felt all around the country.

During the Nineties I spent the majority of my time in Southern France, either in Montpellier or Toulouse. The Spanish influence could be felt well across the border, manifesting itself in Nîmes and Arles with their wonderful ferias, or in Toulouse with its significant Hispanic population and Spanish-style nightlife. I regularly visited Barcelona and became a huge fan of its ultra-modern aesthetics and cutting edge nights. Trips to Madrid were also frequent and I reveled in its passionate exuberance and more southern ambience. Needless to say they became two of my favorite cities in Europe.

In 1999 I returned to the house for the first time in nearly ten years, driving down from Southern France. I was amazed at how the area had changed; houses had sprung up all around ours, the beach was gradually being built up, the village had almost doubled in size and there were suddenly cars everywhere. The contrast to the rest of Europe was no longer as great as before and it felt as if part of the dynamism I had perceived in Spain's cities was finally trickling down to my village. There was even an Alcampo (Spanish equivalent of Auchan) in Motril, something that to me was quite unthinkable! Somehow that visit changed my perspective; rather than focusing my attention on what was missing from life here, I instead started to simply enjoy the charms of the place and its uniqueness. The cultural difference that separated me from the people and society had suddenly become a lot smaller. I will never forget driving up to Trevélez to get a ham and blowing the gasket on the car only to drive it all the way back almost at a roll. What normally should have been a trying situation turned into a wonderful adventure as I stopped at a night club in a village in the Alpujarras and danced until dawn before someone helped me too patch up the car at daybreak. Once back at the coast I was astounded as the village mechanics were incredibly friendly, helpful and competent, inviting me around for lunch and driving me all over until the car was ready. The spontaneity, geniality and generosity of such events differed markedly to attitudes I had become accustomed to in France. Everywhere I went people were friendly, jovial and fun to be around.

After the change of millennium my life moved north to Paris with its bright city lights and insanely stressful lifestyle. I badly missed the Mediterranean sun and atmosphere and started to regularly come down to the house for holidays. Every time I came back there seemed to have been more motorways built, more houses, more Mercedes Benz cars, more greenhouses, more European companies and brands establishing themselves. The distance between our isolated coast, Malaga and Granada was also being constantly reduced hugely increasing accessibility and making my visits a lot easier. I explored the region with new eyes, going to places that I had visited as a teenager and rediscovering them. The serene natural beauty, beaches and relaxed lifestyle were also a breath of fresh air compared to the intensity of Paris and I can vividly remember sitting by the pool daydreaming of being able to live here.

In 2004 my patience with Paris finally waned and I gave up my job and flat determined to create a new life in another country. My initial plan was to go and live in South Africa, but that proved to be too fraught with perils. I suddenly found myself not knowing where to go and with all the family having moved to other regions where I definitely did not want to live, I effectively had no home to speak off. I can still remember my mother suggesting that I should go and stay in the house in Spain for as long as I wanted seeing that it was a good place to think over what I wanted to do with my life. In July 2004 for the first time ever I found myself alone in Salobreña. Strangely what was originally a visit in order to relax and decide where to go next has seen Andalucia become my physical and spiritual home in its own right. How that came about is another story. Sometimes the things we search for the most have always been there right in front of us; it's just a case of being able to perceive them.
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