Bien dia

Back at the hotel, the dream we had set out to fulfil looked to be fading. We informed Mark that we were expecting at least two other agents the next day and he agreed to come back in two days leaving his mobile number.

There had been nothing remotely close to what we had been looking for and it was with a weary step that we hit the bar for a nightcap before a take away and bed.

Next morning and the same story started to unfold in the foyer as bright and early though we were, the first of the reps had not turned up on time.

One that did turn up however was a fresh faced young man called Andre. He appeared red and flustered as he begged our forgiveness with copious apologies stating he had just been involved in a road accident and that had delayed him.

We introduced ourselves and without any further enquiry, he proceeded to lead us out to our transport. However, he had not been joking about the accident.

The white Ford Escort standing out the front of the hotel only loosely resembled its actual model type. The rear was all stoved in and the boot cover was missing completely. Don't worry about that, its ok! I've got us another car sorted just down the road, jump in'.

Rose looked at me, though I could only shrug while I attempted to pull the door open. We got in as Andre continued to apologise and ramble on about the accident.

I thought about leaving this one but he insisted he was alright and that he had a full day planned for us.

There was no getting a word in edgeways as we drove along the Autovia de Mediterranea', the main coastal highway, aware that a number of other road users were staring at the three people travelling in half a car.

Shortly we stopped at a service station where we changed vehicles for another more robust 4x4. However, we where now joined by a second man whom Andre introduced as Juan', our driver for the day!

Juan' looked like something out of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, possibly a bit of all three and just off the set of a spaghetti western.

He was dark with a stubbled chin and a big bushy moustache, in fact I was expecting him to say something like I hate gringos!' at any moment.

Andre again tried his best to reassure us saying everything was alright but I had my doubts, as did Rose, noticing her worried stare.

But for some reason we got into the vehicle anyway, though opting to ride in the rear, (I thought it more prudent as we may have a better chance of escape should things turn nasty, especially as Juan looked hungry enough to eat two tourists).

But as the day wore on, things actually panned out well with Andre settling into an informative patter of local history and building description with Juan smiling at every opportunity, possibly in an attempt to allay the fear of Rose's unending stare of concern.

Once again we viewed a number of places, this time though we were visiting the interior of the countryside some way in from the coast known as the Campo'.

Here life was certainly different. No real tourist contingent, no noisy boozy clubs or holiday bars, definitely a lot quieter. As the day wore on both Rose and I took a distinct liking to this particular piece of rural Spain in which we now live.

Most of the small towns and villages we visited were more like what people may perceive as the real Spain with small shops and bars being the epicentre of the community. There were very few immigrants of any nationality living in these areas and the roads connecting towns were unlined and uneven.

By the end of the day we were again exhausted having trudged and surveyed more than a dozen properties, some deep in the mountains with others in the centre of the town.

Juan, to our relief, dropped us right back to our hotel. He smiled warmly and shook our hands. He had not spoken a word all day but had driven us all over the countryside without comment even paying for a drink at a roadside Venta'.

Andre asked if we had had a good day and yes, I had to agree, we had and we hadn't been robbed or murdered. There had been a couple of viewings which had looked very appealing though we needed to think about it.

Andre said he understood and left us his phone number and contact e' mail address. We promised we would be in touch and after a brief adios' he and Juan left.

That evening in the bar, after going through our notes we had made during our exploration, I decided to contact Andrew to ask if there was any chance of a second viewing of two of the properties we had interested us that day.

I used the hotel phone and computer to try and speak to Andre or leave a message. To my surprise, neither the phone number or contact e' mail were valid or recognisable!

We did however manage to get hold of the company Andre was supposed to represent, but strangely they had never heard of an Andre and had not sent us the rep?

Over the next few weeks I tried again to contact him from England to no avail. How odd was that? Strange, who had he been and why should he have done all that work for nothing?

Had we been lucky as an unsuspecting target or had he just taken it we had not been interested or serious? Or had Juan disposed of him? Who knows? Who cares?

Mark arrived back the next day as promised, we briefly explained to him what had happened the previous day and he just laughed, welcome to Spain Al' was all he said.

One thing for sure, we now had a fair idea of what interested us and asked Mark to show us what he could in the new criteria.

We wanted somewhere no more than twenty minutes from the coast, thirty minutes from the airport, somewhere in the town close to amenities, must have a pool and have three bedrooms. It was precise and as Mark pointed out, possibly too tall an order.

We looked all day until finally we came across a property in a small lesser known town called Cóin, some twenty Kms north of Marbella.

It was old fashioned, unpainted, untidy, dirty and basic with its own wildlife growing in the pool. It looked as if it had been deserted for a while though Mark insisted that the Dutch couple that owned it were still in residence.

It was however well situated in an affluent but tranquil part of town and filled most of our requirements. After briefly looking round, be it a gut instinct or feeling, call it what you like, I knew that this place was ideal and although it looked rough now and we hadn't a clue where we were.

I also knew it could be made to look better and become respectable if not ideal. Rose was a little less sure but after a sales pitch from her beloved painting a picture of endless holidays in the sun, we agreed to put in a bid, subject of course to satisfactory legal checks and certifications.

We finished our search then and there. We had one full day left and I certainly didn't believe we could find anything else to match our choice, especially not for the price if our bid was successful.

Mark took us back to the office and explained the finer points of the dealing process in Spain which was more complicated than we had first thought.

He detailed the cost and commitment of entering into a deal and after checking we understood, asked us for our offer price. Mark had told us what the last four offers had been, each being somewhat higher than the other.

The asking price was, even in our opinion, well over the odds even though the prices in the area were rising by the day during the 2002-3 boom on the Spanish holiday home market.

After discussing it with Rose, I cheekily offered a mere 1000 on the last offer as a serious bid. Mark however was less than enthusiastic. Frowning, he stated that he doubted whether the vendor, (seller) would accept such a low offer and that it may be best to put an offer in nearer his sale price.

However, I persisted and also asked that Mark inform the owner of my intention in making it a family home for a very long time and not just for a quick profit. We shook hands and Mark advised us to return to the hotel where he would make contact later that evening after having put in our offer.

Back at the hotel we tried to relax with a bottle of wine and some nervous chat though every ten minutes I would be up and round at the desk asking if a call had come in much to the annoyance of the receptionist.

We were up in our room around eleven o'clock. I was sitting on the bed biting my nails watching Spanish soaps like you do when a call came from the reception. I answered it and after replacing the receiver walked into the bathroom where Rose was soaking away her aches and pains. She looked up and put her hands over her face, Well, what's the verdict?'

With a grin from ear to ear I said, The man at reception just phoned to congratulate us on being the owners of a house in Spain!'

Top Hint: If you're going to enlist the services of a casual independent agent or rep from a lesser known company, then always leave yours and their details with the hotel or friends especially if you believe that there is a chance of a less than bona fide encounter.

Please don't spend a day in fear like Rose and I did. Also take a number with you of someone who speaks English should you have any problems or an emergency. Protocols and guidelines are a little tighter now but remember if you're in a foreign and unfamiliar country then a cry for assistance may fall on deaf ears.

ID is no proof of whom or what they are. Independent agents can be very unscrupulous and say anything for a sale though in the same breath you may hit a good one and scoop a bargain.

I chose to be a little more adventurous in my search but there are as I have already stated companies that organise trips to buy.

Top Tip: Many buyers have fallen foul in the past of doing it on the cheap!' The media of late, especially in England, has had a field day reporting problems about Brits and others losing everything or unable to sell due to something missing in the form of paperwork or description from their initial deal.

I know some who even after years of living here still do not have an Escatora' (deeds) for their property. This can lead to a charge of an unregistered building, wrong description or even worse an illegal build summons dropping at your door.

Now more than ever you have to be careful as the Spanish authorities have increased enforceable legislation on legal home ownership and confiscation. Remember, you wouldn't skip the law requirements or legal recommendations in your own country when purchasing a property with a mortgage or your life savings, so why do it anywhere else?

There is a risk that things can go wrong especially with things like compulsory purchase orders and the such, but hey, doesn't that happen in Britain?

My advice is do it the Spanish way, I used a Spanish solicitor, Spanish registered estate agent and a Spanish bank for everything when buying my property.

I enlisted the help of a Notary in both countries who communicated with each other and yes, it cost a little more in the short term. However, my Escatora is in my safe at home, signed and sealed.

Spanish Facts: Tapas! Mmmmmm, lovely! What is it? Well, modern day, it can be just about anything from a lite bite to a full blown ten course snack, though more often than not it's a small dish with an assortment of delicious local meats, cheese and fish served up with or on some bread.

But the origins go back to the Moors occupation when people used to cover their drinks with a small piece of bread or suchlike to keep out the insects.

Afterwards some would eat the bread, thus the association of having a small snack with drink. (The Spanish are somewhat amazed here that the British go out and drink without having food.

Something to be learned there eh?) Looking at me you can see which method I prefer. When ordering a drink, just ask for Tapas with your tipple and see what you get, you may be pleasantly surprised.

Remember, every Spanish bar does food!

Useful phrase:
Queria una seleccion de tapas para dos personas por favour
Pronounced- kayria oona selekthion day tapas para doss persohnas poor faboor.
Meaning-I would like a selection of tapas for two people please

Next Week: The start of five years of working holidays before a single one way flight.