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When The Dream Started...
The first of a new series of diary missives from Mel Morris, who is going ahead with her dream of building a new life in Spain for with her boyfriendNeither of us can actually remember when the dream started, it seems to have a life of its own, but somewhere between Christmas 2000 and April 2001 it went from ‘wouldn’t it be cool if…’ to ‘how are we going to achieve this’. Since then the dream has changed and adapted with circumstances and has become a central part of our lives.
I had wanted to be my own boss for as long as I can remember and thanks to the tutelage of the lovely Ian in a country restaurant over several summers I realised I could be my own boss running a restaurant. But not just any restaurant, I wanted something where people would come together and talk, where they would share food and stories, where friendships would be formed. So how about a restaurant where people already had something in common like walking or art?
Jamie on the other hand was proud of being something of a free spirit, a traveller, rootless. He had a long treasured idea to live the good life that Australia or New Zealand offered. He loved his mountain bike and space and friendly people. But finding work out there was tricky and we passed the 29 year old cut off for easier visa. I knew I would soon need a dryer climate for health reasons and suggested we look at Spain, a beautiful country, close enough for friends and relations to visit often and cheap.
Jamie found the language barrier daunting but never one to be defeated took up the challenge. He had become more and more at odds with modern consumerism and longed to grow and rear our food himself, to use as few as possible of the Earth’s resources. Could a self sufficient farm in Spain that offered bed, breakfast and meals to visiting tourists be the answer to both our dreams? Our thoughts ran riot, walking and cycling tours, pigs, chickens, wholesome food.
We started with the Canaries, good tourism, year round sunshine and unspoilt. But somehow we just couldn’t imagine living there, I don’t know why but it just wasn’t ‘right’. I was determined that Jamie should see the South of Spain, inspired by Chris Stewart’s books of self sufficiency in Andalucia I felt sure this was somewhere we could live happily ever after. But it was just too dry and if the scientists predicting climactic change are right its going to get dryer - not much use to a self sufficient farm.
Then one cold winter night we took out the atlas. ‘What we need is somewhere close to the coast but also close to mountains for the cycling’ Said Jamie ‘To tap the tourist trade properly we need to be close to an airport served by a low cost airline. We need a good water supply so a river would be good and somewhere that’s not too hot in the summer. Somewhere like….here’. He pointed to a region south of Barcelona, where a large river ran into the Costa Dorada. The river was called ‘Ebro’. I’d never heard of it.
The next day at work I typed ‘Ebro’ into Google. What came back was a list of pages extolling the virtues of the Ebro as an area for migrating flamingoes, fishing, walking on the new via verde, unspoilt villages, wine co-operatives, olive groves, cycling and all within a two hour drive of Barcelona. But surely here were many, many places to stay for the birdwatchers, anglers, walkers and wine lovers this place attracted. I searched again. Nothing except for one wooden house offered by an agent for people seeking properties in the area. I searched their website and there were beautiful farms, townhouses and cottages, and we could afford them.
The email I got back from the agent seemed very positive, maybe too positive. They were sure they could find us something suitable. I spent much time when I should have been working searching their site falling for this pretty cottage or that hill-top field.
Jamie and I decided we should take a holiday in the region and go to see a few properties, see if we liked it and then make decisions from there. I contacted the agent to let them know of our plans and booked flights to Barcelona. All I could do was wait for time to pass and try not to let my dreams run away with me. Jamie and I talked about what the property needed to have, what we hoped it would have and finally how we would ‘just know’ when we found ‘the one’.
We touched down in Spain on a beautiful May morning. The sun was shining and having been there before even Barcelona airport didn’t throw up too many obstacles. The drive down the coast from Barcelona though was quite dis-heartening. All along the coast were scrabbly, dusty resorts, filled with British and German holiday homes. This was not what we’d envisaged. It seemed as if we were just too late, the area was already built up and the coastline spoilt by poor planning.
Even Tarrogona with its parador built out of an old castle and key battle site from the civil war was disappointing. The river flowed impressively fast but the restaurants were sleepy, the old town falling to pieces and the parador ever so slightly oppressive. On our second night there we bought salad, chorizo and other delicacies from the local supermarket and dinner was a picnic on the terrace rather than face the dining room again.
It was something of a relief to drive out towards Mora to meet another agent I’d contacted and see the urban become the rural as the road climbed higher. We hit a plateau and suddenly beautiful countryside was all around us, narrow tracks disappeared beneath olives and pines, tiny waterfalls spewed out of banks and across roads, wild flowers nodded their heads in the breeze. We were shown several properties but none quite right. Jamie was blown away by just how much land could be bought here and back on the terrace that night with another picnic we daydreamed of pigs and tractors.
The next day dawned grey and overcast and got worse. We comforted ourselves that if we were going to find a property it would be best done in bad weather, it is easy to fall in love with places in the sunshine but we suspected that our plans to camp that night would be washed away with the spring flowers.
Illdefonso, the agent we had arranged to meet, took great delight in blaming the ‘English’ weather on us but bravely donned coat and boots and we set out into the Spanish countryside. He was very knowledgeable about the local laws and customs and was keen that he maintain his standing in the area and not sell us something inappropriate to our needs. The morning did not prove fruitful and we returned to the town for lunch but that afternoon we asked to see a property we’d noticed flicking through the office books. ‘Its derelict’ they told us. ‘Fine’ we said.
The rutted road down past the old and disused railway station was blocked for cars where it disappeared into a long tunnel. We parked and set off down the track, slipping and sliding in the mud. I was cold and wet and totally fed up with the whole thing, Then before us, in a broad cove two little houses emerged from a green field, a river on one side and cliffs on the other. I could hear nothing but the rain.
Then I realised that the houses only looked small because they were half fallen down - they were large houses. Here was 3 and a half acres of beautiful countryside with two large houses on it. Perfect. Jamie started running up and down through the knee high weeds, exploring and shouting. I wanted to stand still and just absorb. I was sure the houses would somehow tell me if this was right if I just listened.
We’ve been back to that farm twice since and what was pretty in the rain has become something of a love affair in the sunshine. After our last visit we put in an offer to the owner which was accepted. In Spanish law we had to put down a 10% deposit and we are now waiting for the searches to take place. With luck that property will become ours and be renamed ‘La Colmena’ - the Beehive - on 4th November. With even more luck and a lot of saving we’ll move there in Spring 2006 but I aim to write about our efforts to re-build the houses and set up our farm and businesses I hope you’ll stop by and see what we’re up to. Of course, you are very welcome to visit us there too!
Look out for the next installment coming soon
Mel Morris's 'Chill Food' column
Written: 18th Oct, 04
Read: 2683 times
