Anyway, as our car crunched up the track to our drive at the rear of the house the OH imediately noticed the vivid green of the vines standing proud above lovely cleaned earth and the olive trees which were so untidy now all Y shaped and perfectly fanned. I took my hand away from eyes as I'd been scared to look and was amazed. "Who the hell has done this?" we thought, the awkward and (too big for us) sloping land at the front of the house had also had the same treatment and was about 70% cleaned with the tell tale tale white ash fire circles proving the point................what a start.
The next hurdle in my needlessly worried mind was turning the key and entering the house, I'd assumed to find stained walls after the rains, a rats nest in a cupboard or some other delight to sort out.....................nada!!!
.............there was even a crate of chilled Mahou in the fridge courtesy of a couple who hold spare keys for us and a welcome pack of lemons, beans, lettuce, goats cheese and a stick of chorizo which had been donated by Pepe (who it turned out cleaned our land) in a bag on the worktop............................even our boiler fired first time when OH went for her quick shower, now that's a first (the boiler firing I mean) 
To cap it all the sun was blistering, something we've never experienced there in March....so apologies to all on here who get stick from us part timers for claiming things like 25 degrees in the shade.......it could be true!!!!
The first day we rose again the sky was deep blue without a cloud and we had the company in the morning of a young English couple who own the nearest house to us. They'd popped in to say hello and we sat having a nice Spanish tasting coffee and a croisant catching up on things.
Again this pair bucked the trend of depression I'd been conditioned to by reading forums. Both in their early thirties they were each doing their own thing work wise and not the usual pool cleaning,odd job,cash in hand sort of thing, they are both actually earning proper tax paid salaries for their endevours just as they did in the UK and are leading a lifestyle to prove it. I found it refreshing and so believable that this pair really loved their relatively new life in Spain but also realised the fact that successful people can make it happen anywhere.
The peace was soon shattered on our nice relaxed breakfast when 2 dogs and 3 cats appeared followed by a loud "Buanaaaaaa".............it was Pepe.
I leapt up and offered him a coffee, "Vino del Campo" he answered, I had none in. "Mahou?" I offered ........"Si, siempre borracho, nunca problema" he said with an evil grin
I took him aside and thanked him profusely after he'd admitted he'd cleaned the land........I had to force it out of him that he'd done it. The guy was incensed when I offered him cash for the weedkiller or for his labour..........talk about feeling humbled.
Since we bought this place we'd always been on good terms with this guy, he is the roughest, meanest looking guy you could wish to meet but with a genuine heart of gold to people he takes a like to. Our bond was cemented last September on our last visit when one day his car (which never runs) had broken again. He asked if we could take him and his lady to Velez as they needed to go to the bank for some cash. We obliged without hesitation and they insisted on buying us drink whilst there when they'd done their business.
We walked into this bar we'd often been to and I sensed a bad atmosphere after the drinks were ordered. Pepe was glaring at 3 drunken (Spanish) idiots on the other side of the bar, they'd said something about his lady it had turned out. They carried on glaring at us and said something I didn't grasp, Pepe shouted back "No balls" which I did understand
He explained to me that these 3 are the local idiots who are a bit mouthy when p1ssed.
He said they are big when there are 3 of them against one. I said there are 2 of us (as you have to).
He gave me a look and that was that. The women wanted to leave the bar via an exit away from these 3 but you can't do things like that really so we walked straight at them to get to the door we'd entered. To be honest the blokes were smaller than both Pepe and myself and they looked to the ground as we aproached, I know Pepe would have not been ovewhelmed on his own and don't think my presence made that much difference.............but he's never forgotten it.
So back on track Pepe asks me if I can take him to the village for some bread as his car was dead again
.OH asks me if I can bring some back too. I'd assumed he meant our local village we use for shopping which has quite few shops. He said that this village was "muy caro" and said we needed to go to the equally local but smaller village instead...............now we've walked through this smaller town on numerous occasions and have decided there is not a shop,bar or retail outlet of any kind to be found,nothing at all apart from sleeping cats, donkey droppings and plastic bottles of water dangling from string amongst the beautiful pots of flowers adorning the tiny houses. I told OH we'd be 20 minutes.
We sets off and rather than parking at the foot of the village as we normally do he makes me drive up to the top through streets 2 foot wide
every time I said "I'll leave it here eh?" he answered "No problema, Arriva"..........I was bricking it 
Finaly I moored up at the top and we ambled through the narrow passageways and arrived at what he said was the place for "pan caliente", 2 huge wooden doors firmly closed.
He thumps the door and after a short wait they creaked open, I couldn't believe it.
The heat thumped you as you walked in from the wood fired bread ovens. There were wheelbarrows full of old ash all over the place and rows of fresh piping hot bread of every description set out on tables. As we entered more dough was being pushed into the ovens.............incredible, who buys all this bread I thought in a village of 200 people?
Pepe spent half an hour yapping there whilst I was just amazed at the comings and goings of the old dears dressed in black banging on the doors and going away with their 6 loaves......I was also kept amused by the kids of the bakers and all the their animals hanging about, totally surreal!!!
After bidding farewells we walked past a house inthe next street with a steel roller shutter on its doors
"Bebida?" Pepe asked "Si" I said wondering what to expect.
The steel shutters get thumped as expected
.A lady from the house opposite comes out with a key, unlocks the shutters and rolls them up, she then unlocks the doors and sod me we walk into a cracking bar.......in this town I thought nothing existed.
A couple of beers were ordered and before long we had company, the noise of the shutters opening must be the locals call to prayers
A burley bloke the colour of a coal miner walked in chewing the obligitory cocktail stick, he'd a face like thunder. He promptly walks up behind Pepe and digs him in the ribs.........still without a glimmer of humour. Oh Christ it's world war 3 again I assumed. Nope, Pepe turns around flicks him on the end of the nose as a third beer is placed on the bar for the chap and the pair break out into a flurry of back slaps and friendly banter. Before long the bar is full of weather beaten Lee Van Cleef look alikes all chewing the wooden sticks and looking menacing until they're spoken to.After sinking a beer or 3 the first chap who arrived (Antonio) beckoned Pepe, myself and 2 others to go and have some vino with him.
I was worried about getting OH's bread back and running way past my 20 minute promise......."no problema" I was reminded by each of the hombres.
We walked a few metres from the bar and went down some steep steps into what I can only describe as a hovel. It was a dark, dank ancient abode with a tar stained Andalucian fireplace, 2 rooms and an array of wobbly wicker cushioned chairs. The only other items of "furniture" were 2 humungous barrels
"Vino?" shouted Antonio "Si" I said, and was offered to pick my drinking vessel.I had a choice of 3 different jam jars, a one litre measuring jug a broken Unicaja mug or a little Princess salmon paste type jar, I was polite and chose the paste jar.
The wine was splendid and for my refill I asked if I could switch to a jam jar instead.
"Is this your house" I asked Antonio in my embarrasing Spanish........."si" he answered, "do you live here" I enquired feeling sorry for him a bit. "No, mi casa aqui" he said after popping his head out of the door and pointing up the street. It was a huge recently refurbed "mansion" with a 320 Merc sitting outside
...........you've just gotta love 'em!!!!!Anyway the 5 of us are sitting there on the wobbly chairs with hands on our knees, I felt a bit daft as the eight other hands where dirty,calloused shovels next to my manicured pinkies which are used to only filling out vehicle order forms or at most doing a spot of light mechanicing.
So, Antonio then whips a knife out of his pocket and opens it up. Like a child this other bloke (also an Antonio) whips his out, Jose takes his out and then Pepe doing his Crocodile Dundee bit takes his out with pride..............then they all start comparing each others for sharpness, this became a bit heated.
Antonio 2 then proceeds to put his to his face and removes a bit of stubble with it............guess what the others followed suit. I'm sat in this underground darkened pit with a few shafts of sunlight coming in through the ajar door wondering what the hell I'm doing here
Thank God I've no beard I thought but then realised I'd not shaved since we'd left England.
The inevitable happened.........I was handed a knife. "Ohferfuksake" I said to myself.
They were only joking but being a man of pride as well as being p1ssed by now I just had to have a go.
I slid it down my chin but forgot I'd cultivated a spot there
........cut the end clean off it and was bleeding profusely........I went back to the bar for a piece of bog paper and did the normal thing I do when I cut myself shaving.............the Spaniards were well amused with me sat there with this bog roll stuck to my chin.We finished the wine there and the other Antonio insists we have one at his den.............it was a carbon copy of the previous "bodega experience".........I staggered out into the hot sunshine feeling well the worse for wear and we bid farewells.
I told Pepe I would not be driving the car back today and that I'd collect it tomorrow. "No pasanada" he said asking if we should go back to the bar, "No chance" I said.
Walking out of town thinking we were starting the 3 mile walk home he turns up this side alley and in this town that has no shops was a Coviran store which was shut for siesta. He stands outside and shouts "Maria".
This lady emerges, has a chat with Pepe then vanishes re emerging in her nice little 307 to run us home.........."No problema,familia" he proudly anounced.
We arrived back home and our friends had long since gone. OH was there waiting for us with an intense gazing gesture at her watch. "Some 20 minutes" she said. Pepe asked me quietly "Problema?"
I used his saying and replied "nunca problema"
"Where's the bread then?" OH asked...........I'd only gone and left it in Bodega number one hadn't I.
"5 hours and no bread then?" I was asked.
"Blame Pepe" I said
In England I would have been right in the crap now but the atmosphere and summer like day had mellowed OH............she just laughed it off and joined in with the "no problema" thing........Spain seems to get people like this.
I'd stuffed the Wii console in the flight bag for some daft reason before we left the UK so decided to invite "my mate" in for a game...........big mistake
After setting it up I fired up the baseball game. I took my go and scored 7 runs out of ten, I then handed the remote to Pepe..................0 out of ten
He beckoned for another go. I was dubious as the safety strap would not fit over his hand and my fears proved right. Every contorted swing he did at the ball resulted in a miss and a string of Spanish swear words. Finally as had to happen the remote flew out of his hand and scored a direct hit on the Tagine lid which was sitting innocently 20 feet away in the fireplace, knocking it clean off it's bowl and firepot shattering into a thousand pieces............the guy was gutted but OH and I were crying
The stay continued in this vain, good weather, kindness from all, great people not seeming to give a toss what the papers say and just plain easy going living.
Only downside was the guacamole incident. As a leaving present another Spanish guy down the track decided we needed 15 tons of avocados to take home to the UK
..........like they do.We were all packed and ready for the off............I voted to stick them in the Bazura on the way down to Malaga...........OH agreed.
It was only when back in the UK the truth outed. She's nipped back into the house and stuck about 20 in one of the cases.....WRAPPED UP IN MY GOOD SHIRTS
........not near anything of hers you understand. All twenty had imploded on the flight back and it was not a pretty sight, for me anyway 
.........my shirts had done the job and protected everything else in the case, nothing of which was mine!!!!We're stilling laughing today at the brilliant and very different time we spent over there.
It just has no bearing to what you pick up via cyberspace chit chat whatsoever.
I found Spain once more to be what you make it, not better than the UK just different.
It also made me realise that the two countries both have things that outshine the other and arguing which is best seems now to be futile in hindsight.
I have come to my own personal conclusion that the only people (brits) who can have a gripe are the ones that demand the best of both worlds from two seperate countries. That can't happen as the 2 places are unique, so some will never be satisfied.
I know I defend the UK on here from unfair criticism because I do genuinely love living here as well but I also need to come out and say that from what I've seen of the Spanish community and most of the ex pats we've recently spoke to Spain is just not as dark as some would portray. It's still a fabulous place to be honest, and once this current economic blip has run it's course I know full well that people will flock back and the housing market will boom once more...............it has to. Where else 2 and a half hours flying time from the UK can you get that type of weather and cultural difference.
I have a sneaking feeling these dark times some people talk of will soon be a distant memory.
Rule Britania and Viva Espana.
DA
