Reanna read it

On the Move


Wherever you lived, however long, in your former home country, if you live here now you will be familiar with the upheaval and trials of packing and removals, unless you simply abandoned everything and arrived with hand luggage only!

If you read my last blog, you’ll know I’m about to move. I arrived for the first time last winter to see what the prospects were having given up my rented house in England, selling or storing my stuff. What was left was brought here to be moved between two temporary places to stay, and the long term let I’m about to leave. I have a transit van and I know how to use it!

In just over 14 months I’ve learned a lot about Nerja, enough Spanish to demonstrate I’m willing but incompetent for example, and what to look for in a home here. Walking the streets taking notice of property “se alquila” is great for learning the town layout, and viewing a variety of properties gave me a better understanding of what’s available, affordable and desirable.

I failed to grasp why owners proudly showed you the new fuse box in a reformed property, until I lived in one where the kettle plus any other appliance tripped the mains every time. It came as a surprise that many kitchens don’t have an oven. But it’s pretty neat having your rubbish collected outside every night and having the street swept every morning when you live in town, although trying to unload my van outside my house attracts horn-happy drivers from all over Nerja.             

I didn’t understand the significance of the boards across the doorways until the rain came in under my front door. But it’s brilliant buying fruit and veg from people’s porches, the fish man walking round with his barrow, and getting your gas bottle delivered to your door. As for the processions, what a treat to stand on your own doorstep and watch them pass.

How many people in England have a little tourist road train pass their house every hour, or the harnesses jingling and hooves clopping when the carriages are running?

Those charming shuttered windows in the front door are wonderful to open in summer but draughty in winter. The dark, cool-in-summer interior is like a gloomy ice box in winter, but it warms up a treat with a gas heater. I’m not troubled by noise from neighbours - the walls are about 3 feet thick. They have to be, or all the ants wouldn’t have room to live. But I’ve loved it here – you just need to know how to get the best out of it. Two courtyards and a roof terrace certainly helped.

Another chapter begins. I’ve changed my criteria for where I live, and I hope I’ve got it right. It’s time to move on, to start packing and decide (again) what to take and what to leave.