The area itself is called AndalucĂa, and is stunningly beautiful, and diverse. The mountain range itself is the Sierra Nevada, and as the car I drove panted and heaved the higher I drove, the more I fell in love with it. At the bottom of the mountains, are beautiful sand covered beaches, and from there you go up, on winding roads, that take you to a magical place, with snow covered mountains, and clear blue skies. Tiny villages, with white-washed houses everywhere, and lots of old Spanish people, generally standing around having a chat, or going along on Mules. Peppers hanging out to dry, along with tomatoes, and other home grown produce.
I need look no further as this was the place I wanted to be. So I moved all my belongings over, and began my new life here. The month was November, and it was starting to get very cold, as it does tend to do 1000 metres above sea level. Laying in my campervan with my partner, and our cat, absolutely freezing I was beginning to wonder if we had made the right move. I complained to some of the English that lived in the village, and laughing they said “what did I expect living in the Mountains!” Really I did not know, and thought ok, here goes an adventure.
We found a small house in the village, and over the next couple of months realized that it was only going to get colder. Keeping warm became the major priority, and trying to make a living, in the poorest part of Spain………………………….find out in my next blog how we survived, and that life only became tougher.