Back in November, two months after we had arrived here in the Alpujarras, we set off on the first of many trips to explore other, lower areas within Andalucía, to where we might relocate. This first jaunt led us into the western Granada province and we combined it with a trip to the bodyshop near the capital where our car was to be repaired. Picking up a hire car turned out to be a bit of a farce though. We met the insurance broker from Bérchules - who, during the week, lives and works near the bodyshop - when we dropped off our car. The idea was that he should take us into Granada where we would pick up the hire car. When he arrived, it soon became obvious though that we couldn´t simply load our luggage into his vehicle and jump in ourselves. Why not? Well, it would have been a bit cramped, as the good man had turned up in a Smart car. To cut a long story slightly short, this is what we did: insurance man and I got into Smart car and went to his house where I had coffee and chatted to his wife. Insurance man then drove back to bodyshop where he picked up Ian and together they drove into Granada to pick up hire car; they then drove back to insurance man´s house in convoy, I got into hire car with Ian, we returned to bodyshop where we loaded luggage into hire car and finally set off on our journey. Phew!
It was raining and after dark when we arrived at the B&B we had booked in a place called Loja (well, there wouldn´t have been much to see had it still been daylight to be honest). We received a very warm welcome (the only thing about the place which was warm) from the owners and were duly shown to our room on the first floor. The proprietor sheepishly informed us that, unfortunately, all (both!) en suite rooms had already been occupied and therefore we would have to use the bathroom one flight of stairs up from our bedroom. Would that be ok? We´d have it to ourselves and it would only be for one night. The next day, there would be an en suite room available. Not really wanting to venture out in search of another B&B, we had little option but to agree and so we settled into our room. It was absolutely freezing in there. Luckily, there was an electric heater but the entire room only had one socket. Slight problem here - we needed three: one for the heater, one for the bedside table lamp and one for my mobile phone which had run out of juice. Tricky. The solution: the heater gave out a warm glow, so the light wasn´t really required (the disadvantage was that the bright light kept me awake half the night), so we only needed one more socket for the mobile phone charger. It occurred to us there might be one in the bathroom, so we skipped up the stairs (to keep warm) to check it out. Well, I’ve seen big bathrooms in my life but this one was ginormous. There was a toilet and a washbasin at one end of the room and – after a 2-minute walk as it seemed – you arrived at a corner bath at the other end of the room. There wasn´t a socket in sight and – what was worse – no form of heating in there either. It was so icy that I simply wasn´t brave enough to get into the bath and risk hypothermia or frostbite, so I settled for a quick cat lick instead. Not nice.
The next day after breakfast, we stepped outside the front door, feeling grubby and cold but soon thawed out as it was much warmer outdoors than it had been inside. We met up with an estate agent, with whom we had been in email contact, who showed us a house which she thought might be suitable. Well, she obviously didn´t know us very well. The house which belonged to a dear old lady who had lived there for nearly forty years, consisted of lots of poky rooms, one leading into the next. Yet again, no form of heating visible throughout the entire house. Just how do they cope in winter? The place had been ´modernised´ at some point in as much as that it did have a kitchen and bathroom - the only snag being that to get to these from the main part of the house, which contained the lounge and master bedroom, you first had to venture outside and cross the courtyard. Can you imagine? “Darling, you´ve got your shoes and coat on. Are you off somewhere nice?” “Oh, not really, I´m just on my way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Fancy a cuppa? Damn, I think it´s raining. Now where´s the brolly when you need it?” Well, we couldn´t, so we soon said our goodbyes. Sure, the house could have been altered so the layout would have been much more practical but with the asking price already matching the top end of our budget, major structural work was a definite no no. Besides, we didn´t really like the area. Most of the villages seemed fairly new and didn´t have any character. The churches looked as if they had been built from preformed concrete slabs bolted together and the streets were wide, straight and lined with grotty bars. Not for us. One more night in the freezer, then we´d move on. Looking forward to our en suite room, we couldn´t wait to inspect the bathroom. Although it wasn´t as huge as the one on the top floor we´d been schlepping up to the previous night, it was still bigger than the actual bedroom. Hmm. Craving a shower more than anything in the world, Ian got ready to launch himself into the cubicle. There followed a succession of mumbled expletives, taps were turned on and off again for a while and finally Ian reappeared to declare there was no hot water. As there was nobody about to complain to, I contented myself with yet another cat lick whereas Ian steadfastly refused to get dressed without having had a proper hot shower. He stayed in his dressing gown until the owners got home some hours later. Needless to say, Mr B&B didn´t manage to reinstate the hot water either but promised to get it fixed the very next day which of course was of no help to us whatsoever. Even though our host was very apologetic about the problems we had encountered, he didn´t feel sufficiently sorry for us to reduce our bill and charged us the full whack. We left Loja the next day, hoping never to return.
Heading down south, we passed through some pleasant countryside and stopped off in beautiful Antequera on the way. It really is an interesting place and our spirits rose a little. Things were looking up. Surely, the second half of the trip would be much better, compensating us fully for the mediocre first half? Little did we know. We headed for a place called Álora where we intended to spend one night only. The following day was Ian´s birthday and the plan was to stay somewhere near Málaga and book into a swish hotel, have a lavish meal and forget the past few days. We found a hostal which had rooms available and the nice man behind the reception desk willingly handed us a bunch of keys when we asked if we could take a look at the room before committing ourselves to spending a night there. We galloped upstairs and frantically turned on all the taps to check if there was any hot water (once bitten…). If anyone could have seen us, they would have declared us totally bonkers. Hot water seemed to be flowing freely, so back downstairs in the lobby, we gave reception man the nod and went in search of a bar to quench our thirst. Much to our astonishment, the guy behind the bar refused to serve us. “¡Ya son la´ tre´!” (It´s three o´clock!) he barked in an Andalucian accent. Well, I can honestly say that has never happened to us before in Spain – most unusual. We were beginning to dislike this place. We managed to find another bar which was open and, feeling peckish, we ordered a portion of meatballs (a bit cold in the middle but quite tasty nevertheless) which we washed down with a couple of cold beers. Back in the hostal, after a siesta, more swearing in the shower ensued – the water was actually much too hot this time. Only a trick (lift the shower lever halfway up rather than all the way, then turn the cold water on first and ever so gradually add the hot water) prevented us from scalding ourselves. We did have a very pleasant evening though and found a nice restaurant where we dined on pâté and fish. After coffee and brandy in a bar next to our hostal, we fell into bed contentedly, looking forward to what the next day would bring. Unfortunately, we didn´t have to wait very long to find out what that would be.
The day started unexpectedly early – at 4:30 am to be precise. I´ll deal with the events of that day fairly briefly because the memory is still far too painful. Ian and I both ended up suffering the most awful bout of food poisoning you can possibly imagine. At about 10am the next morning, after we had taken it in turns to visit the bathroom on an increasingly frequent basis, lying on our beds half-dead and groaning, we decided that in order to have only the faintest chance of driving back to Granada the following day (Málaga by now a forgotten dream) to pick up our car and return to the Alpujarras, we would definitely need the helping hand of a doctor. We were in no fit state to get ourselves to the nearest surgery, so with great difficulty Ian dragged himself downstairs to reception, phoned the local medical centre and eventually succeeded in talking them into sending a doctor out to us. Only a few minutes later not one, not two but three medics came to our aid. After a thorough examination, an injection in the bum and a prescription for what seemed like half the stock of a large pharmacy, they left again as quickly as they had appeared telling us to eat cooked carrots, rice and fish. Apart from the fact that we felt sick merely thinking about food, not a very practical suggestion for somebody who was stuck in a simple little hostal. Ah well, I suppose they had meant well. The valient birthday boy eventually managed to pluck up the courage to totter to the nearest pharmacy to get our medication which enabled us to set off back home the following day after a day spent in the room with only the sweet music of a pneumatic drill rising from the street below for entertainment. We were quite shaky for several days and it took us about a week to get over it fully. I can honestly say that I have never felt worse in my entire life. Was it the meatballs (the likeliest culprit in my opinion), the pâté or the fish? – we´ll never know for sure.
Luckily, nothing went wrong as far as the car was concerned: it was not only ready in time on Friday afternoon, as promised but also sparkling clean and looking as good as new. Well, I suppose we did deserve some luck after all we had endured.
¡Adiós!
Siesta time for the giant in Antequera