“He who would an expat be.”

Chapter One: Crazy and Daft

Those were the words used by friends at home in Devon. Adding, that in our seventies it was amazingly risky to leave and start a new life in Spain. Having lived in Abu Dhabi and Saudi several years before we did not see such a move as risky.

We could just as easily run the risk of complete boredom, becoming more frequent pub users, members of the darts or quiz team or even being run over by a bus at some stage in our apparently and increasingly tottering old age.

Instead, we decided that being reasonably fit and healthy we should sell the house and get on with it.

Half a Victorian house set in a garden sloping down to a footpath onto a beach. Possibly the wildest dream of a city dweller who was possibly also being told it was crazy and daft to leave and go and live down in Devon. Selling the house was a three-year nightmare and by the time the deed was done and, the deeds had been exchanged we were knackered.

To leave Devon at that stage would have been difficult but, perhaps the story of the journey of how we got to that point is worth telling…

Talk of moving to Spain

For many years we had, including family, talked of moving to Spain. We had been to the Basque country and loved it. It was there that I got to know a Solihull lass who had moved away from England and searched for a place to put down some roots. Georgina had travelled a great deal and eventually settled in Navarra to start a language and walking experience. She, perhaps, gave the greatest impetus for us to give it a go. Holidays in the Costa da Luz, Costa del Sol, Tenerife and Andalucía had given us the taste but, not the destination.

Speaking the Language

Going to live in Spain I felt it was important to be able to speak the language. Perhaps, never to be fully fluent but at least to show some respect to your new host country. In England, we are generally lazy in foreign languages. We expect English to be spoken everywhere but, to have a loose handle on the language of the new country is essential if you wish to integrate at any level. Just making the effort opens more doors than you would ever expect. So, night school was used to get the grounding and reference to Spanish language courses. It helped but, time in the Basque country gave a better insight into both the language and the culture of Spain.

Now, where were we? Oh! Yes, what about a destination? We laid down a framework to suit our requirements. Such a framework would be different for the stages in your life. We are seventy-year-olds and retired and did not need a place to continue working. We did want to be near airports, family and friends still lived in the U.K. so access was important. Spain is rich in transport systems, so being near a railway station or a major auto via would be useful. None of the holiday areas we had visited gave us the ability to tick all those boxes. Then Catalonia came into full view, satisfying most of the requirements but, being close to the rest of Europe was a bonus.

Choosing a location

We started with a map of Spain, then a map of Catalonia. We had not even visited the area but on a whim, I stuck a pin in the map. I cheated a little in that we wanted to be near the sea but, the pin was otherwise random. Sant Feliu de Guixols was under the pin, we did not even know how to pronounce it! As we had no idea whether our plan to escape to Spain would really work and we may even be proven to be Crazy and Daft, we decided to rent a property to start with. A search of websites found various agents but very few houses. We followed the first lead and the new experience opened.

The first property was in Sant Feliu de Guixols, later to become SFG in our life and the owner was an individual and not an agent. Contact was made and very strangely and completely out of the blue, he posted the keys to us in Devon! I set up a trip out to view his house. Bristol to Barcelona for a two-day visit to SFG. I booked a hostel in SFG and hired a car at the airport. It was February. The drive from Barcelona opened my eyes to the green and exciting countryside, I was smitten. Arriving in SFG and finding that the car park on the seafront was free, was strange.

The hotel being shut was even more strange! A phone call to both Booking.com and Aud back at home eventually caused the owner to be seen scurrying across the Ramblas to meet me and open the hostel. Carmen became a long-term friend at that point. She had no English but, we communicated, proof that having the basics was so important. The room was great but, the bar was shut and it was February, Carmen assured me that breakfast would be available in the morning. I did wander out and find a bar in what was a very deserted SFG. Even then the basic Spanish came in useful to at least make contact with the locals. They were mainly workers in overalls and spoke Catalan! They did wish me well in finding a house to rent… I think! I slept very well. Breakfast was good and as I explained to Carmen my reason for being there, she said she would go up the Ramblas to speak to house agent friends of hers to see if they had anything for me. The very first sign of how friendly people can be.

With keys jangling in my pocket, I made my way along the seafront and up the road leading to San Pol Beach. One key fitted the external garden door which led up the path to the rear of the houses. A communal swimming pool and little rear gardens. Another key fitted the back door. I opened it and stepped inside. The door shut behind me and I was in total blackness. A very tiny slit of light somewhere way across the space got me to walk towards it. Then, I fell down five steps leading into what was the living area. Flat on my face I had no option but to get up and follow the little source of light. I opened the shutters and light flooded in. I was then able to wander around the three-storey house. It was full of furniture, all brown and old. There were towels strewn on floors and unmade beds. The owner had obviously left in a hurry! It was not really for us and Aud confirmed that when I eventually got home to Devon. Getting there was harder than expected………

I had skipped breakfast the following morning, to get to Barcelona airport for quite an early flight. Barcelona traffic is not similar to Devon traffic at all, indeed the only similarity is that in both cases everyone else knows where they are going! I saw a filling station and so topped up the car for the FULL TO FULL requirements. The signs for the airport were good until they disappeared! I found myself within a long underpass with two full lanes of traffic being completely convinced I was in the wrong place. I crept along for a while until I decided to turn off. I followed roads and roundabouts and looked for signs for the airport and found none. Once on a one-way route I pressed on and found myself going through the same Paege I had driven through some half hour before, even passing the same garage! Once again venturing into the heart of Barcelona I eventually stopped, found a taxi driver and asked the way. I was only a few metres away from the ring road leading to the airport. Unfortunately, by the time I had dropped the car off and checked in, the plane had gone!

Aud did a marvellous job of finding a hotel for the night. I got a taxi and there I was twenty metres from the Barcelona Ramblas. The comfy hotel even if a little noisy but I was in the centre of Barcelona so what should I expect. In the morning I found that it was a Youth Hostel! Got a taxi to the airport.

Property Decisions

Back home we decided not to proceed with private individuals. So contact was made with an SFG estate agent.

Finding a property with Lourdes, the agent, proved to be successful. So, another trip out to stay in Carmen’s hostel and meet up with Lourdes. The house was perfect. And the terrace had a view out across SFG harbour, the beach and out to sea. All we needed now was to complete on the Devon house sale and ensure we kept this house in SFG. There followed several very frustrating weeks trying to keep Lourdes happy to hold the house, whilst we went through the final throws of exchanging contracts.

By the time we achieved this and, for that we thank Lourdes for extreme patience and our solicitor in Torquay swinging a deal for an early exchange, we were more than stressed and our energy levels were rock bottom.

We had a deal and, we had to get to SFG.

One thing not mentioned thus far is that we had two cats and wanted them with us. Trips to the vet, injections and microchips as well as arranging passports for them. Most of our furniture and possessions were going into storage but we were going to take a small amount with us. That small amount became quite a lot in the end. We were leaving one life and did want some of our more treasured things, including the cats! A man with a van was engaged.

In mid-May, a man with a van arrived and once loaded up, we said goodbye to our stuff and the cats. He had to come back the next day to collect the very last bits and pieces. So much for planning things in detail!

Leaving the house in Devon was out through the back door, with Aud mopping the floor, whilst the taxi waited in the drive. We left the mop by the locked door and posted the keys through the front door letterbox. The trip to Dawlish station had to be via the clothes bank in the pub car park to leave the last items we did not need in SFG. The train was on time. I remember looking from the windows of the carriage down onto the beach where we had taken our grandchildren so many times. It was an emotional moment. Again, as the train passed below Exminster village we imagined our family back up in their house, starting their new day as we started our new life!

It was lucky that the Tannoy at Temple Meads station was very loud as we had both fallen into a deep sleep. We woke and scrambled for the train and jumped onto the airport bus that was just about to leave. So, the first stage was done and the flight from Bristol to Girona was underway.

It did pass through my mind at the time that I had only been to SFG twice and had, actually seen the house we were to rent. Aud had done none of those things and was on the way to the unknown. In these ventures maybe you must share a lot of trust. On the other hand, perhaps you do have to be a little crazy and daft to enjoy life as an expat!

Carmen had arranged for a good friend and taxi driver to meet us as we arrived with just two suitcases to our names. Albert was once again to become a contact in SFG. I explained that my nickname was Albert and thus whenever I meet him in SFG he greets me with ‘Hola, Knick name Albert’.

So Aud met Carmen and we stayed in the hostel overnight.

Chapter Two, coming soon…

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