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A Name And Guest
If you haven't already done so, you might want to read the previous installment of Mel's finca adventure, before reading this one...After a night of sound sleep we awoke to a sunny day and peering out of the tent flap we grinned at each other. ‘I can’t believe that this is really ours’ Jamie sighed. He got up to start to explore the 3.5 acres we’d bought and I tried to tidy our tent at least a little. I heard Jamie shouting ‘Mel, look, look at this.’ I stumbled out of the tent flap to see what the excitement was. It was oranges. There, by the well, an orange tree was laden with fruit. We hadn’t noticed it in the dark the night before, on the first day we could breakfast on our own fruit!
We slung towels over our shoulders and set off on the walk to our private bathroom, the Ria Caneletta that forms one of the borders of the land. It seemed the finca had a two course breakfast in mind for us as investigating another tree we found the fruits it bore were pomegranates. We just could not stop grinning as we found more and more delights. The river was lower than it had been when we visited before but we managed to have a wash in it without upsetting the fish too much and we wandered back through the finca to get the car and go to pick up our first guest.
John has been one of longest suffering and staunchest supporters of our quest to buy a dream home in Spain, longest suffering because with his knowledge of self build he was the person was always turned to with the ‘how do we’ questions. But the trip this weekend was not a thank you or a ‘come and see’. John had been so inspired that he wanted to take a look at a neighbouring finca which we’d been told the owner wanted to sell and he was arriving that morning.
Waiting for Jamie to finish filling up the car with petrol I decided to see how much of the deeds we’d been given the night I could understand when it was suddenly my turn to yell in surprise and delight. On the deeds Jamie had been elevated from plain Mr Armstrong to Don Jamie Armstrong. How funny!
Meeting John at the airport felt very strange indeed, it was an odd crossover moment from tourist to hostess in our adopted country. I wanted to tell him and show him so much, but was aware that he had been up very early and probably just wanted some food and to pitch his tent and get settled. However, John being John we were soon gabbling away about the events of the last couple of days and the fincas and all the new information we’d found out.
There is a certain special corner on the road down to the finca that I love. There is a cliff face with a little waterfall and pine trees at the base of it . In the spring the area is filled with wild flowers and it looks like a roadside fairy glen. For a long time I had dreamed of driving guests down this road, of reaching this corner and them saying ‘wow’. John kindly obliged.
After lunch and the enlargement of the camp we set off to explore just what we had purchased and to show it off to our first guest. The boys were soon engrossed in discussion on the sitings of septic tanks, water pumps, foundations and pig management. We’d discovered a whole new field we didn’t know existed and were getting a feel for just how much land we’d bought! Jamie and John were looking at a very straight, flat limestone wall that bordered one of the fields. ‘Honey, why do you think this wall is so flat?’ Jamie asked. It was a good question, the farmers in that area tended not to build walls except to keep animals in and they tended to be very rough and ready and made with whatever was to hand, this was a wall of a different quality altogether. Then I remembered Dona Mariana trying to explain to me about the finca the evening before while Jamie was dealing with the financial side of the transaction. ‘I think this is the aquaduct.’ I replied.
‘What aquaduct?’ Jamie asked
‘Dona Mariana was trying to explain to me last night that this building was a flour mill and that water was drawn from higher up the river, near the bridge, to run it.’
‘It looks like an aquaduct’ chipped in John
‘But if it was a mill you’d expect there to be a mill stone.’ Jamie responded.
We continued on our exploration, down to the river, up to the via verde all the time finding out something new about our land.
I’d wanted to show John some of the delights of the area too so we set out for Miravet and its impressive Templar castle, pretty winding streets and riverside bar. After a climb to the castle we were ready for a beer and as I ordered I was again struck by the feeling of no longer being a tourist here, this was home, and as those who had lived here longer wandered past with friendly nods and smiles and the sinking sun cast a golden glow over the river I couldn’t think of anywhere I rather be.
There was still an hour or so of daylight left so we set off back to the finca to get the fire lit and preparations for dinner underway. I’d decided that I’d rather make use of the solar shower the next day rather than bathe in the river so I asked Jamie to find somewhere to hang it where it would get warm. Now getting used to his yells of excitement I didn’t look up from the more important mixing of gin and tonics but it turned out to be a very exciting find indeed, John and Jamie had stumbled across the mill stone.
It was a great feeling to serve dinner to our first guest even if it was just barbecued sausages and baked spuds and a little drunkenly we reflected on the feeling of responsibility that finding out about the finca’s past had given us. A mill is at the heart of a community, and although that community was now gone we hoped to build a new one where people who enjoyed the outdoors would always find a warm welcome. Before travelling back to purchase the property I’d been searching for a name for the finca that would sum up its heritage but also its future. I’d finally plumped for ‘La Colmena’ - the beehive as a nod to its heritage as a working community, as a suggestion of the sweet things a weary walker (or climber or cyclist or whoever) could find there and as a joke because in that part of Cataluna my name means honey. Now though the finca was telling us what its name should be ‘El Moli’ - the mill, but part of me wished I could keep the name I’d found.
‘But you can’ Jamie said
‘No, there’s only one finca, John can call his La Colmena.’
‘You are forgetting,’ Jamie smiled ‘there are two fincas here.’
That just about brings my story so far up to date. Now we wait for our permissions to begin rebuilding El Moli and La Colmena whilst trying to save the money to pay for it. But I’m sure that once we start work there will be many more stories to tell you. Some very kind friends have already offered to help us this May in clearing some of the land and Jamie and I are endebted to them. This project has only been possible because of the support of our friends and relations and we feel truly blessed to know such wonderful people who have given freely of their time, advice, brawn, brains and support.
mel morris
Written: 9th Mar, 05
Read: 8230 times
