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.