Our new town

A month and a half ago we moved to Nambroca, a little town about 8 miles (12 kilometers) from Toledo capital. We moved because we found a real house to rent and because I love small villages. So far, Nambroca has been amazing! It has almost everything I could want. We live in a neighborhood full of houses, which is bad, but half of them are empty, so that helps. Right in front of our house is an olive grove, which still hasn't been constructed on. And surrounding us, in every direction, are fields full of olive trees or just rabbits. And the dog, Tila, loves rabbits! The actual village has a small supermarket, which we haven't used yet, two bread shops, a vet and a shop to buy newspapers and magazines. Plus some banks and a primary school and some other stuff.

I'll be posting some pictures of Nambroca, so everyone can get to know our new village. Almost all of them, if not all, will have been taken on our walks with the dog. Tila goes out in the morning and the afternoon and on Sundays we hunt the sheep. Here's one for today. A tractor. The city hall also has a couple of tractors (which I find very funny), but this is a private tractor.

We're moving!

We moved to this lovely new house this past weekend!! I can't wait to blog all about it! It's in Nambroca, Toledo - a great small village. So I'm sure I'll have lots to talk about. The moving and decorating I'll blog about on my other site, so please follow me there: The Spanish Sky

63% mileuristas!

A recent hot news report has shown that 63% of Spanish people (although I would argue all people living in Spain) are "mileuristas" (a term coined for those who earn 1,000 euros or less a month). Although I'm technically unemployed right now, I still consider myself a mileurista because I have never earned more than 1,100 euros a month since coming to Spain.

But what does this actually mean in real terms?

In Madrid it is particularly difficult to earn only 1,000 euros a month. I can only refer to my own story, which wasn't a horrible situation. I earned 1,100 euros and the majority of my spending was on rent, which is tortuous in Madrid. Both years I paid almost 400 euros to share an apartment in the center. I usually spent only about 200 more euros on food, transportation, going out and new clothes. However, I would like to note that I didn't go out often, never bought red meat (:o)), and lived fairly frugally. I can't even begin to imagine buying a house in Madrid. I honestly think it would be impossible to responsibly take a mortgage.

When I moved to Toledo, things improved a lot. My husband has a great job and earns twice as much as I do. We pay almost 600 euros a month for our one bedroom apartment (although we are moving soon), a noticeable reduction coming from Madrid. Therefore, although my financial situation is better in Toledo, most of it has to do with combining salaries with my husband. I can't imagine living financially well without his salary.

Why so dramatic? The worst thing about this statistic, that I'm a part of, isn't that young people, or uneducated people, or immigrants, make so little money. The worst thing is that there is almost no chance for a salary improvement. These people that represent mileuristas are usually very well educated and may or may not be young. But opportunities for better jobs that pay more money are very hard to find!

A little lifestyle inflation

Generally speaking, lifestyle inflation is a bad thing. It happens when you begin to spend more money because you begin to earn more money. Instead of living on what you need, you begin accumulating stuff, trying to improve your "lifestyle".

Ever since moving to Europe in 2004 my lifestyle and financial attitude has been forced to change. Even though I welcomed the change, I regarded it passively until about a year ago. (By passively I mean that I actively didn't buy lots of stuff, but it wasn't because of a decision to be more financially aware and proactive, but because I just didn't have the space and couldn't move it.) What happened a year ago to spur on a great mental change was my marriage to my amazing husband. Jose is much more detail oriented and fascinated by being financially secure. Just by living with him for two years I have been influenced by his methodology and consistency (although it's true, it does drive me insane from time to time). So, little by little, I've been trying to catch up with him. We joined our assets, we created an emergency fund and a retirement fund, and we actively organize and reorganize our money to fit our needs perfectly. I've been reading some of his books and we're about to start investing (slowly).

But, as great as all this is, we feel like we need a little more out of life. A little lifestyle inflation. For 2 years we've been living very frugally, although we do travel a good deal. This summer we decided to make some changes to open up our lives a little. No, we're not planning to go out to dinner more. We're moving! Next week we'll trade our fantastic one bedroom apartment in Toledo capital for a fantastic three bedroom house in a village about 8 miles away from Toledo. This house has a yard, for our hammock and our yet-to-be-acquired dog. We've decided to stop waiting to "start" our life until we buy a house, because who knows when that will happen. But we'll be enjoying renting a whole lot more!

Sure, we'll be saving a little less now because taking the house means we had to buy another car, but the added expense isn't that terrible because the house rent is almost 100 euros less than our apartment rent now (crazy, huh). This week we start the move, I can't wait to see how it goes!

A hard summer

It's been a hard summer.

At the end of the school year, I knew that I was mentally tense. My mother was visiting, which inevitably added stress, but it was a much looked forward to visit. Things at home were doing fine, my husband the same wonderful as always. Health was great. Money fine. Socially, everything was the same. My problem was at work.

Almost since starting work at this particular place, in September of 2007, I had experienced different levels of frustration. In many senses it was a great place to work: almost zero supervision, good hours, and seemingly laid back and friendly boss and coworkers. I soon discovered, however, that even though the boss didn't tell me what to do or when to do it, he certainly had an idea of what should be done and when. My frustration went from confusion to outright distress over the two years I was there, ultimately culminating in being told that my contract would not be renewed this fall.

Technically, I had not been fired. But I felt ashamed registering my name in the unemployment office. I was very unhappy in that job and often thought about leaving it. Yet, the decision had not been mine, and what's more, it came out of the blue! I felt completely out of control of my life. I didn't get along with my boss, felt that he expected outrageous things from me and rejected any type of communication. And then HE fired me, when obviously he was in the wrong! All the reasons he gave me for the firing were technically true (and none of them were about my work in the classroom as a teacher, in fact he gave me an excellent reference in my new job), but even though I recognized they were true, they were so absurd that I still can't believe I was fired for things so stupid.

Two weeks after the incident I found another job, to start in September. In fact, I turned in my CV on a Thursday and by Friday at noon I was offered the job. I knew that I had a strong CV and I know that I'm a good teacher. But I felt defeated. My husband and I talked about the financial repercussions of me not working during the summer and they were minimal. Our finances are great. But I felt like a useless member of the team. I was extremely depressed. My husband was wondering what in the world was going on.

It's hard in Toledo, where I still don't know many people. And without work, it's hard to keep moving forward, more than anything, emotionally. It kept me stuck for just about all of July. My great husband took me to France for holidays and we've just returned. August isn't very busy, but I'm going to try to move forward in lots of different ways so that emotionally I move forward too. So, I'll be back blogging also. September has lots of great changes that I can't wait to share.

The players...Corruption in Spain

As a follow up to the earlier post about our first taste of corruption in Spain, I've decided to post the businesses involved. These businesses were attempting to illegally sell a house to us, which we discovered almost by chance.

The constructor of the house is Paderborn Develops, SL. They are currently in bankruptcy proceedures and we don't have any proof to their being involved in the promotion or sale of the house.

The third person, who we were led to believe is the one trying to sell the house, is Finanzasa. Or One-handed Antonio.

And the real estate agency who is showing and promoting the house is Activos Inmobiliarios 2006 out of Portillo de Toledo.

In our experience, these people have actively tried to deceive us about the state of the house and cheat us of our money.

Easy Come, Easy Go...Our first taste of corruption in Spain

That's the house we almost had!

Since January, Jose and I have been looking for a house to buy. It seems like a great market for buyers, but there are some really interesting factors in play that haven't made it that easy. But that's a different post. Last Friday, we met with a real estate agent, Pablo, to see a house in Villamiel de Toledo, one of our preferred villages. We loved the house. We loved the village. We loved the pantry and the chimney. And the price, 150,000, wasn't that hard to love either. Pablo, the real estate agent, told us that the house already had a mortgage with Caja Castilla la Mancha (yes, the same one that the Bank of Spain has just taken over)that the constructor was still paying, and the bank was eager to pass the mortgage to an individual. Ok, that sounds normal.

We talked about it all weekend and ran all the numbers. We decided that it was what we were looking for and that if a meeting at the bank went well, we'd sign the intention to buy contract and give a reserve to Pablo. So we went to the bank and met Guillermo, the bank manager in Fuensalida. Guillermo was extremely eager to give us the mortgage and when he saw that Jose is a civil servant, he very nearly wet himself. Everything went great. (Even the conditions of the mortgage.)

We called Pablo and told him we'd like to sign the intention to buy contract, but we'd like to do it Friday (since that's the only day I don't work in the afternoon) and before that we'd like him to send us a copy of the official property record (where it shows everything that has happened to the house: buyings, sellings, mortgages etc). Although Pablo argued that it wasn't necessary, since we'd see it when we went to the notary (to sign everything), he agreed to send it to us.

This is where it gets hairy. It turns out that the house was built in 2006-2007. In 2006 a third person, Antonio, who happens to have only one hand, signed an intention to buy contract and paid the constructor some money. One handed Antonio, from Madrid, is what they so eloquently call a "pasa pisero", a guy who goes around agreeing to buy half built houses so he can later sell them for a higher price when they are finished, but without ever actually buying them. In other words, one handed Antonio never paid more than 6,000 euros for the house, nor does he have the deeds to the house. The only thing he has is a contract saying that the constructor has to sell him that house.

Ok, between the time the house is finished and December 2008, the house doesn't sell. Someone was paying the mortgage, but we don't know if it was the constructor or one handed Antonio. In December 2008, the constructor went bankrupt and all his assets were taken over by an administrator in Madrid, including said house. Now, it seems that Pablo, the real estate agent, has been contracted by one handed Antonio to sell this house, which he doesn't really own. If we buy it, everything may seem ok and we would get the deeds and everything, but the administrators in Madrid could repossess our house any time during the next two years, because it was sold during the bankruptcy proceedings and not sold by them. That would be really bad.

What we do not understand is where the bank fits into all this. Why would they give us a mortgage when they know that the house can't be legally sold? My guess is that Pablo, Guillermo and one handed Antonio either are related, went to primary school together or both, and they all are looking to receive a little under the table compensation for the illegal sale of this house.

While obviously Jose and I are disappointed about not buying the house we really like, for the price we really like and in the place we really like, we are so much more relieved to have found all this out now, before we've signed or paid anything! Oh, and by the way, the way we found this out was by enchufe, Jose's got a friend in the house registry where the house is listed. If not, God only knows where we might have ended up!

graffiti

I recently read a post from "An Aussie in Mondragon" about an encounter with a bit of graffiti in some pretty funny English.

We also have one in Toledo. Here's my contribution!

Semana Santa in Toledo

Jose and I arrived home from Malaga on Wednesday night and we're leaving again this afternoon to go to his hometown. I wanted to make a short post on Semana Santa, however, so here's a little video I took last night.

We went to the old town in Toledo rather late to catch the 9 o'clock procession (there were more at midnight, 3 am and 6 am, but we're not as young as we used to be). Anyway, we didn't get a good spot to see all the creepy outfits and housewives dressed up. Instead, we made do with the slopey streets to get a good angle over all the people's heads to capture the statues as they passed. Enjoy!

(PS. Even though Toledo should be one of the most religious places in Spain, they don't kill themselves carrying the statues, but roll them instead. In places farther south, they carry the statues.)

Study to pass...

Just at the time that I signed up to prepare for the driving exam a study was reported in the Spanish news.

Apparently, when people went to reknew their driver's licenses they did a survey, asking the reknewers a couple of the questions that are on the theory test.

The surprising results: 96% failed!

As I have been making notes, doing practice exams, highlighting sections and studying charts (which I never study well) I've been grumbling a lot. True, it's my first week of real studying so it's normal that I've been getting a lot of questions wrong. And true, there are many differences between driving laws and regulations in Spain and in the US. But after reading this article, I'm more convinced that the testing here is ridiculous.

It seems that driving laws in the US are more based on common sense and a good deal of posted signs than based on the knowledge of all drivers of the rules that prevail on the particular road. Doesn't it make more sense to post a speed limit sign than to expect all the drivers to know the speed limits on interstates and pay roads, in town roads, out of town roads, out of town roads only for automobiles, roads with large shoulders and small shoulders and the specific limits for cars, cars with trailers, trucks and special cars (the only example I've seen of this last one is a hearse). It's maddening.

And clearly a case of studying to pass the insanely specific theory test, on which you can only miss 3 questions, and then forgetting everything! What's the point of that?

Driving Lessons (PS)

Ok, I've changed my mind. To follow my progress on my path to driving legally in Spain, you should check out my other blog: The Spanish Sky

It's sure to be lots of fun!

I finally did it!!

After a year of thinking about it, deciding on it, knowing I have to do it-but dreading it like the plague...I've done it. I've signed up for driving school!

I feel a little relieved, to tell you the truth, for finally having done it. But now the hard work begins, and I'm facing these next few weeks, ok...months, like someone is going to be pulling out my fingernails one by one. Why all the drama? Let me explain.

I've been driving for 12 years now. It's a long time. I've taken Driver's Ed classes, never been in an accident, have gotten only one ticket (and it changed my ways!) and am definitely the best driver in my immediate family (by far!). So, when I come to Spain to find out that my license is not valid and I have to do things the Spanish way, it makes me angry, frustrated and indignant.

I mean, have you ever been to Spain? Do you know how the people drive/park/speed/have no regard for motor vehicle safety? Have you seen the book of the traffic regulations I have to study? Have you read the confusing-for-Spanish-people options on the multiple choice exam? Do you know that the average amount of money spent on getting your driver's license is 1,000 euros??

And for what am I going to do all this? Because everyone knows that once you study and know the book and get your license and start driving with everyone else the first rule is to throw away the book, forget everything you learned and start driving like you're fighting for your life! That's what makes my blood pressure go up!

BUT, I'm doing it. I signed up this morning. I'll record my journey here so that you can all share this experience with me. Starting with today:

Time in the School: about 15 minutes
Money paid: 180 euros: signing up fee (which includes the books and all the practice exams)

The Siesta Show

For all of you who love Spain, whether you live here or not, there is a really fun daily TV show on eyeonspain.com (you can find it at http://www.eyeonspain.com/tv). The show is based on the Costa del Sol and so far this week they've had a couple of guest appearances (one really interesting British real estate agent talking about the Spanish real estate market) and a visit to a churreria.

I've watched all four, that are up so far, this morning and found them really cute and interesting. I'm going to request to be on the show if they ever make their way to Toledo! I'll keep you posted.

Check it out!!!

The Effects of the Crisis

Take a look at the latest effect of the crisis. :o)
This new locale, Casa del Mar, was only a few weeks ago a real estate office. Granted, it never looked open and I'm not sure if they ever sold anything, but it had pictures of houses and apartments in the window. Due to the substantial drop in home sales, being reported all through Spain, it's no surprise that it would head towards closing (as many real estate offices have done in the past few months here in Toledo). But what actually happened is quite interesting.

Casa del Mar is a chocolate bar, that sells bread, with a corner that is devoted to its previous activity of selling houses, that also offers internet access. Just a bit of everything here.

**We haven't been, but might make a investigatory trip soon!

Our story of love and travel, new languages and jobs.

The story of how I met my husband and ultimately ended up living in Spain. It's a long story, with lots of twists and turns, so bear with me!

It all started in 2002, when I was a student at Agnes Scott College, a private women's college in Atlanta, Georgia. I loved studying there, but decided to see how much I would love seeing other parts of the world and made the decision to study abroad. My decision to go to Budapest, Hungary was pretty random (and probably a little irresponsible, considering what a decision it was!), but it turned out to be one of the best things I've ever done. I went from January to June, 2003, and met lots and lots of cool Europeans and saw lots and lots of Central and Eastern Europe.

And I met Jose, who was studying architecture in Budapest on a study abroad trip, too.

Although it's true we met in Budapest on our study abroad, the possible verbs end there. I had my friends and he had his and we partyed, traveled and generally lived in different circles. In fact, the only thing I can find about him in my journal of that time was a reference to him sharing my love of far left politics (he was the only one).

And so in came time for us to leave Hungary, and I did so sadly. I kept in contact with almost everyone that first year of being away, including Jose. At Christmas time I took a trip with two university friends to Paris, to have a mini Budapest reunion for New Years. Because my friends weren't that excited about meeting my study abroad people I agreed to go later with them to Spain, which I had never really considered before. Since we were going to Spain, we decided to spend weekend in Valladolid, where Jose graciously offered to show us around.

We went, Jose and I "clicked" and we started to make our correspondence more frequent. Soon we were emailing and chatting nearly everyday. I decided to return to Europe after graduating in 2004. But no, not to Spain. I went back to Hungary for a year to teach English in a little village.

During that year Jose and I visited each other twice, he came once to Hungary and I went once to Spain. I knew at this point that he was really special, but I had no idea how it was going to work out. However, in the spring of 2005 I decided to move to Spain after finishing my contract in Hungary. I did so, found a job in Madrid, through that job got my work visa and when I was allowed to, I moved to Toledo. When I moved to Toledo, Jose and I moved in together because he had just arrived to start his job as a funcionario and a year later we got married (in Georgia).

Sometimes I still can't believe it all worked out, although I guess we're just at the beginning of the journey!

Home?

Isn't it funny how, as you go through life adding stages and steps, people and places, either the first or the last is the one you refer to as "home". This has happened to me so many times, and it's a strange feeling each time.

A couple of weeks ago we were traveling in Portugal. Every time there was an occasion to communicate with a Portuguese person, I always spoke with them in Spanish. Maybe that's logical, since Portuguese and Spanish are clearly related Romance languages and only by proximity, for sure lots of Portuguese speak Spanish. I have heard that lots speak English well, however, and maybe some of them would have understood my English better than my Spanish. I also referred to Spain as my home, both outwardly and inwardly. All of this has a certain sense, after all I have lived in Spain three and a half years.

But it has happened to me before. Many years ago, in 2003, when I was studying abroad in Budapest, Hungary for a semester. As we traveled through central and eastern Europe, most of those small things you say to people you don't know (thank you, excuse me, sorry), I said in Hungarian. Even I knew to be a fact that these people would certainly understand my English better than Hungarian (regardless of the fact that I was speaking it, knowing little more than those few words). I referred to Budapest as my home, too.

The language and the home thing may seem different topics. In a way, they are. I was reluctant to speak English out of embarrassment (dumb American, only knowing English) and out of a bit of self-preservation (the truth is, you never know hates tennis shoe wearing, loud talking American tourists and who doesn't). But it's also hard to think of your "home" in lots of different places. How can it be here if it's there? How can it be there if I live here?

(How can it be here if I still can't speak Spanish? :o))

Home from Lisbon. Days 5 and 6.

After four days, we were loving the cheap coffee and lunches (not cheap, exactly, but more appropriately priced than in Spain, where one often wonders at the high proportional price of a coffee or lunch). And the Portuguese, who very kindly spoke Spanish and English, most of the time, although it left us in a moment of doubt when it came time to speak to someone.

We left Cascais, near Lisbon, and started our slow route home. Trying to avoid the toll roads, we wound round and round the countryside of Portugal: Jose, trying to navigate the tiny roads full of potholes, bicycles and the occasional animal. Me, with the normal map and the GPS on my lap, butchering village names and trying to figure out if the GPS was playing tricks on us. (Sometimes you get the feeling that electronic devices are alive and trying to drive us all insane....)

That's how we found ourselves in Obidos, Batalha, Fatima (when you're that close, how can you NOT go to the place where the virgin supposedly appeared?!?), Tomar, Constancia, Portalegre, and Castelo de Vide (over 2 days). Most of the trip the roads were cloaked in fog, revealing our destinations abruptly. It was charming and beautiful, and felt so quiet.

Portugal does not disappoint!

Lisbon

After being saved once again by our GPS, we arrived in Ouieras on the outskirts of Lisbon on Sunday nights.

After wandering around, deeply in silence, in the chestnut roasting fog that filled the streets of Lisbon, I discovered an important phenomenon in myself.

Meeting a city is a very special thing. A city must be met with an isolated opinion and experience. A city cannot be eased into, or an after thought, if it is going to be appreciated fully or understood. I have to be dropped into the middle, either by a plane or by a bus or train with fast moving scenery flying by my window all the way there.

I arrived in Lisbon in completely the wrong manner. After two days of wandering through small towns, fog filled ancient stone ritual sites and even seeing a herd of goats. The charm of small villages with open streets set my senses at ease with the slowness of far away life. Lisbon, therefore, seemed overpowering and I know I seemed simpleminded to the city.

I dutifully toured it, however, not sure what I was looking for or looking at. The most I did get was a feeling of not taking it in properly (the same thing happened to me the first time I went to Paris! I had to go back to really like it). So, I'm looking forward to the next time I go to Lisbon!

Pictures!

Portugal Days 1 and 2

We left Toledo on Saturday, barely recovered from Christmas, with a picnic packed. The weather report was not promising, but we were full of anticipation as we headed south west towards Merida, passports tucked in, just in case. In case of what?, I don't know, but it never hurts to have lots of identification.

We arrived in Merida with the rain. I had such high hopes for the city, with its crowds of Roman ruins, but it was our first disappointment. Although the ruins are well preserved and featured, the city itself seems to built with a distracted mind.

We left soon and started towards the Portuguese border, making sure to stop first and fill up the gas tank (oh, the horror stories of gas prices in Portugal!). We passed quickly by the ghost buildings of the former border crossing and found our hotel with the help of our new best traveling friend, our GPS.

Our four star rural hotel for 28 euros was a great value, although we would soon discover how cold it was. I woke up the next morning stiff, from the shivering and tensing of muscles to keep myself in the twin bed that Jose and I were stuffed into to try to generate body heat.

Day two was full of fun sight seeing: Elvas, fortress town built back when Spain was the enemy.
Vila Vicosa, Borba and Estremoz: three "marble" towns, with lemon and orange tree lined streets and everything made out of marble!
Evora and the dolmens: Evora was a wonderful little town, just the type of place I'd like to live (if I moved to Portugal). The dolmens were perfect. The road up to them was in the middle of a cork tree forest and it was covered in fog. Over 7000 years old, it was the perfect backdrop for a lovely stop.

Pictures!