This isn’t Spain; it’s Andalucia.
The grass is always greener on the other side. Ever since I moved to St. Maarten four years ago I can’t help but long for Andalucia, Spain’s southernmost province, the place where I was born and my family still resides. Don’t get me wrong, I love the island of St. Maarten, but there’s just something about Andalucia that sets the blood boiling.Andalucians believe in living life to its absolute limit. And I don’t mean trying to stay alive as long as possible. People eat all day long and stay up late at the drop of a hat. During the summer months, the streets are packed till three or four in the mornings, with some people even going straight to work and making up for lots of sleep later in the day with a siesta.
From the fervour of bullfights to the frenzy of flamenco music and dancing, everything is approached with extreme passion. Life is celebrated, not strictly controlled, which makes for an intoxicating atmosphere. You may go home exhausted, but you will never forget it.
After four years I was going back ‘home’ for a family reunion and I was looking forward to roam the Spanish Costa del Sol again. This southern coast runs from Nerja to my birth place La Linea, which borders the British territory Gibraltar.
While nearing the airport of Malaga, I could see the untroubled Spanish mountains beckoning. Tiny white villages blistering in the sun were scattered in patches of warm brown and green hues. I couldn’t wait to set foot on my land again and satisfy my nostalgic yearnings.
We drove off in our rental car and headed towards east of Malaga up into the mountains, where my parents own a piece of land. The village is called Sayalonga, located in the much sought after La Rabita area. Although the foreign population has doubled in half a decade, it’s still a place where you can enjoy utter peace and tranquillity.
The hills of Sayalonga’s fertile valley are dotted with vineyards, almond and olive groves as well as neat terraces of avocado trees. The village is one of the typical ‘pueblos blancos’ (white villages), a heritage of the Moorish invasion. White-washed houses are standing like bright little boxes, glued to the mountain slopes. Donkey width passageways lead up to shady plazas where bright bouquets of flowers spill from iron wrought balconies.
In Sayalonga you can squeeze through the narrowest street in Spain which is only 56 centimetres wide. Not only is this village still locked in time, the EURO inflation has hardly left its mark here. Much of southern Spain, particularly near the coasts, is as expensive as St. Maarten, but there are still a few places away from the commercialisation where the prices haven’t changed.
After enjoying 4 sodas, a beer and two mixed drinks at a Sayalonga bar the check came up to only 8 dollars. It was tempting to stay over for dinner, which is served from 1:00 to 3:00pm, but we still needed to adjust to the Spanish way of eating.
We drove back to Malaga and then up the new Mediterranean highway along the coast. Costa del Sol has always been a popular tourist destination and it is the area in Spain with the highest concentration of foreign residents. My father had already warned me about the abundant new developments going on in the Andalucian real estate market, but what I saw went beyond my imagination.
The last time I was here in 2001, the most developed and tourist-crowded areas were cities like Torremolinos, Fuengirola and Marbella, but the villages in between were still mostly surrounded by large patches of campo. Four years later, I was witnessing what looked like an endless strip of resorts and apartments and a line of billboards inviting you to buy them. Has the real estate market gotten out of hand?It almost did, as I found out. Fortunately the Junta de Andalucia intervened just in time. What I was told is that before, any developer was able to buy a piece of land, build on it and then sell it. There was no limit on it and a lot of corruption of Andalucian mayors was involved.
To prevent the nature environment from diminishing the Junta of Andalucia has now put a restriction on further developments. Today, it’s only possible to buy land of minimum 5000m2 and you can’t build on it for the first 10 years, while it’s not that easy any more to obtain a building permit. So it’s not so attractive for developers anymore…fortunately.
We quickly drove on to Caleta de Mar, almost at the end of our journey, where we enjoyed our first tapas and tinto de verano (wine with soda and lemon). Portions of Queso Manchego, Jamon Serrano (cured ham), Albondigas en salsa (meatballs in a tomato sauce), Pollo al Ajillo (garlic chicken) and tortilla (egg-potato omelette) were brought to the table and savoured in minutes. I believe the total cost came up to 40 dollars for five persons, which is not the cheapest, but still reasonable.
After our stomach was filled with Spanish delights, we continued our journey to my hometown La Linea. The entrance is always magical. At the end of the long concrete strip that leads along the sandy beaches of the Mediterranean Sea stands the massive Rock of Gibraltar looming over the town. Its size always makes impression, no matter how often you see it. It’s a true nature’s treasure and my welcome home sign.
Of course abuela (my grandmother) was waiting with a home cooked meal, cause that’s all that matters to her and everyone here in Spain: comer (eating). Her greatest pleasure is if other people enjoy her cooking. It’s almost an insult to say you’re not hungry, which I hardly do, because her cooking is my greatest pleasure. My mother comes close, but nobody cooks like my grandmother.
The days to follow were filled with abundant food (almost non-stop!), tintos de verano, family visits and day trips into the country. The first morning we were already munching on churros (fried strips of dough) for breakfast, which is very yummy, and a good foundation for our trip ahead: the weekly market.
La Linea has a daily market where they sell fresh fish and meats, vegetables, olives and other goods, but every Wednesday the market is bigger and set up in a different spot. You can find anything in here except for the fresh fish and meat. Over 60 stands are filled with clothes, fabrics, shoes, ceramics, accessories, leather goods, olives, candy and so on. It’s the best spot to find your souvenirs and presents for back home. Especially if you come from St. Maarten, a market like that is a feast to your eyes and an assault on your wallet.
After abuela’s midday menu, which included sopa de almejas (shellfish soup), we were fuelled up again for a trip into town. Although La Línea is one of the sunniest towns in Spain its constant cool breezes prevent you from suffering of extreme heat. La Línea is a comparatively modern town and has its origins in the line of fortifications built by Philip V after the loss of Gibraltar to the English. The town has undergone much development
in recent years and is starting to take its place as one of the region’s most popular tourism centres.
My favourite part of the day in La Linea is at night, when everyone dresses up to go for a tapa or drink in town. During summer the streets and plazas are always filled with families. While kids are playing around, fathers are having their glass of vino and mothers are chatting, finding out the latest rumours. As we were savouring our glass of tinto and a few montaitos (tapa size sandwiches with all sorts of fillings) on a sideway terrace, I was thinking ‘life is good’. We chat and drank and eat well into the wee hours, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. No hurry, nowhere to go, cause there’s always manana.

