Country Living

We are oddballs in Spain. And not just because I'm a "furriner"... I've gotten used to that and wear the "americana" label with pride (hint: it's a free pass to get away with wearing flip-flops in autumn and hoodies whenever you feel like it). No, the really odd thing about us is where we live. Coming from a small town in rural Maine where most people can't even see their nearest neighbor's house from their yard, I don't consider where we live particularly remote or "rural", but for Spain, where people actually like living piled on top of one another, we are waaaaaay out in the country. Our house is located in one of the "urbanizaciones" (housing developments) that grew up haphazardly on what were once privately-owned agricultural plots: people were supposed to use them to grow produce or cultivate fruit trees, but then some starting building little shacks for weekending, and the shacks gave way to houses, and some started putting in pools, and finally a few brave souls decided to live here year-round. By the time the authorities took an interest it had already become a full-fledged neighborhood with almost 300 houses. So they decided to legalize it and they're still in the process of equipping our development with all the amenities of civilization (i.e. paved streets, drinking water, sewer system, telephone service, etc.). For now we continue to "rough it": our taps have running water from a community reservoir which is clean but not drinkable by today's standards; our phones and internet connections are all provided by mobile companies as there isn't any copper wiring to speak of yet; every plot has its own sump tank for waste disposal; and at night we enjoy fabulous views of the starry sky as there are no street lights and little "luminous pollution" from neighbors, most of whom are still weekenders. Spaniards think these are sub-par living conditions and most would never choose to live in such a place, but for us it works fine.

My favorite olive tree in our back yard

Of course there are drawbacks. We can't get anywhere walking (except to the fields behind our development). We don't have mail delivery service. We have to buy bottled water in bulk. The power outages are more frequent. And we have to deal with something that rarely bothers the vast majority of Spain's population: yard work. Spanish housewives are famous for their immaculately clean homes, but I wonder what level of cleanliness they would be able to maintain if they also had to mow the lawn, whack the weeds, prune the bushes, organize the shed, clean the pool... At least I console myself with this thought when the dust bunnies start cartwheeling across the living room floor like tumbleweeds in a John Wayne flick. They'd probably take it all in stride: I've encountered few things more formidable than an "ama de casa" armed with the tools of her trade. Thank goodness I'm not Spanish and everyone accepts the fact that as an American I don't know how to keep house "properly".

But there are plenty of perks to country living in Spain. One of my favorite things is not having a live audience tuning in to every marital spat or worrying that the upstairs/downstairs neighbors are getting fed up with my wailing infant or loud-mouthed child (I have to write another entry on the volume of speech here vs. the US, a fascinating subject). We can holler at each other to our heart's content and no one will mind (if they even hear us). Another bonus is the fresh air, the greenery, the space, and the fact that I can let my boisterous boy run wild in the yard to expend his pent-up energy while I type away at my laptop on the back porch.

I can't envision myself trekking to the city park every day as most Spanish moms do; I find it hard enough to fit everything that needs doing into the available hours of each day, and a 2-hour jaunt to the park every afternoon would totally throw a wrench (a spanner for my UK pals) in the works. And in the summer it's great: we have pool parties every weekend with all the cousins, BBQs with family and friends, and warm, quiet evenings with my husband in the garden sipping tinto de verano (homemade wine spritzer).

The downside is that we are too far away for easy childcare arrangements, so we rarely get to go out, and when we do it's like packing for a week-long trip with the travel crib, diapers and changing paraphernalia, extra clothes in case of accidents or mud puddles, stroller... ugh. But everything in life is a trade-off, and on the whole we are pretty happy with our bargain.