In the days before Brexit, many British people retired to Spain just for the sun and cheap wine. But others went for a new challenge, to become members of a different community. This is the story of one such couple, who moved from Eastwood in Nottinghamshire to a mountain village in Spain’s Valencia Province. It’s the story of the European life of ‘Ann y Jim’. The text needed just a little editing, because after 21 years, Ann may write in English, but she thinks in Valenciano. Fifty miles from Benidorm, but a world away.
Where to go in retirement?
When we retired, we agreed that we needed a change in our lives. North Norfolk was where we wanted to go, but we could not afford to buy property there at the time, so we decided to put things on hold.
Soon after this, our son’s partner, Chris, offered us a week’s holiday in his timeshare, so we went to Calpe, on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. I had always had lacemaking as a hobby, and we discovered that Angela, a lacemaking friend, had moved to a small mountain village, Bolulla, just inland from Calpe. She and her partner David invited us to visit so we set off, not realising just what a scary trip it would be on those narrow, winding mountain roads.
We had lunch with them and then headed back to Calpe. That evening, relaxing with a glass of wine after a lovely meal, Jim said, “I could live that life”. I thought the idea would wear off after we got home but it never did.
Finding a new home
By chance, a small estate agent opened in Eastwood, selling properties in Spain. We talked with the manager, who introduced us to his agent in the Marina Alta area, and we set off again, this time to Benidorm to meet him in person. He took us to several places, but they were all modern estates, and we wanted to live in a village, like Angela and David. So, he took us to Benigembla to meet Juan Caselles. It was November. There in the mountains it was cold and raining. Juan showed us a property he was renovating into two apartments (his wife’s pension fund, he said) and we opted for the upper one. When it was completed, six months later, we moved in. Eighteen months later we moved into the house which we still rent.
Benigembla is a small mountain village. Its population has been shrinking as young people move away, and there were many empty houses. A small modern estate has been added on the outskirts, designed to appeal to holidaymakers and occupied mainly by foreigners. When we came, there were only a few British people living in the village itself (built traditionally to be warmer in winter and cooler in summer). Now, there are a few more. Interestingly, where most British used to be retired pensioners, we are now getting young couples with children, which has brought life back to the village, and the school is flourishing. This is very important for a small rural village.
Arriving
We arrived on 20 April 2002. Next day was May Day holiday. No shops open, so no shopping possible. We went into the only bar, the Bar Gat, and explained the situation. Connie, the landlady, who had lived in America and so spoke very good English, disappeared into the kitchen and came back with ham, milk, cheese, bread and eggs, “to help until tomorrow”, she said, and never did let us pay. Bar Gat became a regular place for lunch.
When we arrived, Juan helped us a great deal with the process of settling in. He helped us get onto the local padron (the register which gives you access to public services like health), and buy and insure a car, among other things. We tried to pay for his time but he would have none of it. Later, we met his 10-year-old son and, as a retired primary school teacher, I offered free English lessons. He left us eight years later to go to university and has recently become a dad.
Teaching English and making lace
In this small village, news of English lessons spread very quickly. We closed the number at ten, one hour a week each. The waiting list grew. Over the years, we have helped more than thirty children and become friends with their parents and grandparents. This was an excellent start to becoming a part of the community.
At about the same time, my neighbour, Carmencita, spotted me making lace on my balcony and told the president of the local housewives’ group. They appeared at our door and so began Benigembla Artesania. We fitted in a two-hour class each week, in between the ten hours of English. I am very proud to have brought bobbin lace back to Benigembla, although the class developed into a mixed British and Spanish group helping each other with many other crafts. I was invited into the Amas de Casa (a kind of Women’s Institute), and both Jim and I spent eight years on The Pensionistas’ Committee. Writing this makes me wonder how we fitted it all in.
Thinking back now, there have been so many wonderful moments here, but I think for Jim, the best one was being asked to be one of the Three Kings on twelfth night (6 January), when the three costumed ‘kings’ process through the village to the town hall and distribute presents to all the children. For me, well for both of us really, the high point was being told by the retiring mayor that we were two of the best Benigembleros. I will never forget that.
Being European
We have both become more European since we came here but I will always be English. I could never deny my wonderful family background. Jim still wears his kilt on ceremonial occasions: you can take a Scotsman out of Scotland but you never take Scotland out of a Scot. The only downside I can think of is being a long way from our children. However, our son now lives in Sagunto, a beautiful, historic town about one and a half hours from here, no further than the distance from Nottingham to Brighton that we had before. Home is here now. We really can’t imagine ever going back.
We were very sad about Brexit. It felt wrong and still does. The locals here were sad, too, but we all accept that the UK made its decision; so now we have moved on, and Brexit never comes up anymore. It did not really change anything for us, and one good thing was that we regained our precious Spanish ID card, so no need to carry a passport anymore.
Only one small piece of advice – not welcome, I know – but for anyone contemplating following us: learn the language. It’s not easy, but you can do it. My first words were all bobbin lace terms and I went from there. The lace ladies were brilliant. Their first language is Valenciano but, to help me, they always speak Castellano (what the English call Spanish), so they have taught me pretty well all I know and have become great friends in the process.
