About UsAbout Us: I am Anne Kristina and British born, but have lived and worked in Spain, since 1973. My parents, in 1963, bought a typical Costa del Sol, Torremolinos beach flat. Back then, a simple telephone call was a complicated and lengthy proceedure. Calls were pre-booked through special telephone exchanges, (one per town!). My parents would register the call details, early in the day to be told to return... in 12 hrs! We would then go to the beach, have a Siesta and much, much later, dine near the telephone exchange. My mother was Estonian and an ex-prima ballerina. My childhood was hugely influenced by some wonderful stories: (my paternal grandfather's career was being the Czar's vodka distiller), tales of jingling troikas gliding through the snow, of Bolshoi ballet excellence and of court intrigues. My most influential school, was a dance and drama school; (Arts Educational Trust, A.E.T. in Tring). I was not destined to be a ballerina, but I did develop a love for all forms of expressionism. My mother and I ran a successful residential spa (in this area), for many years. Health problems forced me to retire. About Us: Chrissy is my Exploring Friend and editor. She is a fabulous photographer and she had to join me on this exciting website adventure. The Environment, Nature, all manner of Healing Therapies, Cooking, Nutrition and Writing are subjects that interest me. Both Chrissy and I, had difficulties with the subjects below. We included them as a guide for someone who may need practical help while living in Andalucia: What is essential to residing here: is to learn the language, this really breaks down the barrriers. Readers have commented, there is a noted accent, on the importance of the Regional and National history. Please, allow me to tell you a small story. Years ago, recently moved-over, my mother was informed that Malagüenian Comares (sun-dried raisin) wine, was excellent. It was nearly Christmas, I didn't yet drive, (my mother was an atrocious driver), I persuaded that our gardener should take us there. We arrived on a local holiday. There was not a soul in sight. Every door was closed and windows were tightly-shuttered. Parking at the bottom of this tiny, windswept village - which perched on a soaring peak - we wandered up some sharply inclining streets (seemingly created for goat and donkey traffic only), seeking some sort of a commerical sign. Everything meandered on a sharp 90º incline. Noticing my mother's increasing impatience, Francisco paused and knocked gently at one of those ubiquitously closed doors. Soft treadfalls came to the door...but no-one opened it. Francisco informed her of our quest. Unexpectedly she stepped into the street and hollered at the above flat. As if on cue - nearly every persiana rolled-up. People peeked at the commotion. A hosepipe was flung out the above window. It unfurled the exact distance of the parked car. Francisco raced down, (he had had the foresight to warn us, to purchase and bring two 5 litre caskets), "¿Que vino quiere?" ("Which wine would you like?") We yelled up our choice. Without warning, fluid gurgled and swelled the hosepipe. The caskets overflowed. Juan grumpily descended. We paid him less than a 1,000pts, having never even tasted the purchases. Driving homewards, I asked, "why" such a specific introduction. "Stra Ana, we could have been contrabandistas or the Guardia Civil coming to arrest a family member," he paused hesitantly, "Without that particular introduction - they wouldn't have opened the door." It was November 1975, Franco was critically ill, days earlier, he had appointed King Juan Carlos as his heir designate. (Within a month, Franco's assigned Prime Minister, Carrero Blanco, would be blown sky-high in a terroist attack.) Were the Guardia Civil so terrifying - or oppressive? The 'contrabandistas' habitually walked on goat-tracks from Gibraltar to every part of the mainland, (far from the eyes of the Guardia). Poverty and hardship were rife. Until one comprehends what happened - to and on this land - one cannot recognize the national character nor perceive The Soul of Spain. Spaniards live and work very hard. Their tragic past is deeply ingrained in each and every one. One national slogan was: "Spain is Different!"
By the way, that Comares wine was the best we had ever tasted! About Us and stories of living in Andalucia. The vibrant colour of this sensational area with its fascinating history - shouldn't be missed. |