Spanish lessons: guide to ex pat life in rural Spain

Do not try to sidestep the issue and move to an English-speaking country; that will have no constructive effect whatsoever, for it is the new language that will stimulate you most, and get those rusty old neurons moving again.

There is a deep satisfaction in the simple act of communication in a foreign language: even now, I glow with pleasure over a well-crafted sentence or phrase. You will also discover a new side of yourself, for you adopt a slightly different persona when you speak a foreign language. In Spanish, for obvious reasons, you tend to become more demonstrative, assertive and noisy. If you are considering making the move — full- or part-time — here are my Spanish lessons.

Immersing yourself in a foreign culture is a good midlife strategy, says Stewart (Francesco Guidicini)

Neighbours

We are asked to believe that the only criterion for choosing property is location. There is something to be said for this, but the best location in the world will not save you from the scourge of bad neighbours. Solicitors’ searches are a concept that does not exist in Spain — or didn’t when I last looked into it — but with the best will in the world, those solicitors are unlikely to discover the dispositions of your future neighbours. And these new neighbours are of fundamental importance; they’re like family, for they’ll be round at your place, initially with the traditional bag of sugar to welcome you, but later on with their home-grown produce.

They will become a part of your life: friends of ours in the village up the river have been unable to enjoy the pleasures of lying in late in the morning for years now. Their neighbours, who are simple agricultural folk, will burst into their house if they have not shown signs of life by seven in the morning. This is far from ill intentioned; they just cannot conceive that anybody would want to waste the day in bed. These same neighbours are steeped in kindness and generosity.

My own neighbour, Domingo, has been almost single-handedly responsible for the ease and pleasure of our lives here over the past 25 years. He is also the godfather of my daughter, Chloé — and thus family.

By contrast, the stories of mean-spiritedness, badness and even madness that I have heard make me shudder. If anything is likely to bring your dreams crashing down, it’s a bad neighbour. So what to do to mitigate the danger? Don’t, like me, rush in. Live for a year in a rented hovel near the place that has won your heart; observe the effect of the seasons and the comings and goings of the neighbours; talk to anyone and everyone in whatever language you can muster. And, above all, study to be the best of neighbours yourself.

Enchufes

In Spain — and this is true of anywhere — you will need your enchufes (“sockets”), or contacts, in order to get anything done. This is not necessarily corruption, it’s just that people in an official capacity will be more likely to shrug off their normal torpor and get things moving if they know who you are.

You will need a policeman, a town councillor, a lawyer, a banker, a gypsy horse-dealer, a gestor*, a good cobbler and a creative accountant. (*A gestor is a person similar to a solicitor, whose job it is to help you navigate Spain’s byzantine bureaucracy. Do not under any circumstances try to do this yourself — the gestor knows the ropes and will achieve what needs to be achieved in one tenth of the time it would take you... and for peanuts, especially if you play along, pat his dog and send him a ham.)

Stewart has owned a sheep farm in the Alpujarras, Andalusia, for 25 years (Alamy)

Water

If you’re planning to settle in the countryside, then water is the most important consideration of all. Spain is a land of frequent drought, and to watch your geraniums wither, or even your oranges and lemons die, will break your heart. Move heaven and earth to be sure of your water supply. Mountains, lakes and rivers are best.

Siesta

Along with the fregona, or squeezy floor mop — invented by a Spanish general because he could not bear to see his wife scrubbing on her hands and knees — the siesta is Spain’s greatest contribution to civilisation. Of course, it’s not just a Spanish institution: it’s practised in most of the hot countries of the world. But the Spanish gave it its name (from sestes in the monastic order of the day), and it is they who have refined it into a national institution. It’s hot in Spain in summer, and the idea of going back to bed after lunch is enormously appealing. If it’s a nice day and you are enjoying it, then to wake up twice to the same day doubles the pleasure.

Apparently, there is a movement to abandon the siesta, in order to bring the country into line with modern global business practice. I cannot find the words to express my contempt for such a notion. The same article suggested that only about 10% of Spaniards actually took a siesta — or “threw” one, as they say in Andalusia, where I live — but this is barefaced mendaciousness, as at least 90% of the people I know throw a siesta. And not just a miserable quarter of an hour, either, like Einstein. (He would doze in a chair with a teaspoon in his hand, and when the spoon dropped, the tinkle woke him.) No, for the full benefit of the experience, I recommend between one and two hours; you can make up the lost hours of the hot day in the blessed cool of the night. It’s good for you, too.

Juviles, in the Alpujarras (Alamy)

Fiesta

Another cliché… but true. The Spanish are much given to the pleasures of the fiesta. They know how to work hard and can be as businesslike as the next man, but they certainly make an art out of enjoying themselves. A flat above a late-night bar would be an unwise purchase.

Equally true is that they love noise. They are the noisiest people on earth; the silent type is not much admired here. If you are not a lover of constant and extreme noise, then head for the hills; urban life will swiftly bring on a nervous breakdown. It’s hard to escape the noise even in the wilds, though, for there is always the mindless screeching of the cicadas and grillos, the ceaseless song of nightingales and golden orioles, and the monotonous hooting of owls all night. Learn to love it, or buy earplugs.

Relax

Marbella offers sun, sand and great sailing (Ken Welsh)

Care is needed here, because the word relax has been appropriated by the Spanish, for whom it means to linger with a lady of the night. What I mean is to relax and not allow yourself to be frustrated by things that seem inadequate — like the fact that everything shuts for siesta. Bend with the wind, rather than be a dry stick that breaks. I knew a couple who had instigated a system of negative “points”, reflecting the ways the Spanish and their system had let them and their English notions down on any given day. They would retire to their home, count the points and lick their wounds.

Don’t go there — it’s not the best way. Of course things are going to go wrong: your building will go over budget by a factor of at least three, and it will take four times as long as your worst estimate; hunters may poison your dog; your wife might run off with a bullfighter. But there will be good days, too, glorious days that could only happen in this wonderful country, among these extraordinary people.

The Last Days of the Bus Club by Chris Stewart is published by Sort of Books at £8.99. To buy it for £8.54, inc p&p, call 0845 271 2135 or visit thesundaytimes.co.uk/bookshop

Stewart’s soundtrack for Spain

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Market wakes from its siesta

The pain in Spain may not quite be over, but property prices there have risen for the first time in six years, according to the Spanish Association of Land and Business Registrars — even if only by 0.97% in the second quarter of 2014, year on year. Since the start of the economic crisis in 2008, prices have crashed by an average of 32% in Spain. Between April and June this year, Andalusia recorded the highest number of sales, at 15,583, followed by Catalonia. The number of overseas buyers also reached a historic high, with Britons leading the charge. Bear in mind, though, that the recovery is expected to be slow — and moderate. — Emma Wells