How to buy your own furniture and lose it in one hour.
Only two weeks and two days to go now before we drive back to Álora so we've started winding down the operation here and thinking about the journey back.
I have decided to buy an international driving permit at the post office. It costs 5 pounds and is only valid for a year.
I am still not sure if I am able to drive legally in Spain with my British driving licence. Nobody seems able to give me a straight answer. I enquired at the British Consulate in Málaga a few years ago and they assured me that my British licence was enough and gave me a photocopy of a National Ruling although they pointed out it was unlikely that the Guardia Civil, who patrol the Spanish roads, had read it. 'Don't worry', they said. 'If they arrest you, you'll get off.'
I have since scoured the ex pat websites for a definitive answer but it appears to depend on:
- If your car has Spanish or English plates
- If you are registered as a Spanish Resident or not
- If the Guardia Civil can read your licence or not
- If they take a dislike to you or not
- etc.
La Benemérita
'You and the Law in Spain' by David Searle appears to favour the British licence as long as I have a Spanish translation of my licence or an International Driving Permit and a medical certificate!
I reckon that the medical certificate can wait until I get back. I don't know anyone who's ever had one but you never know with the Guardia. They have seemingly infinite powers and can make arbitrary decisions, demand on the spot fines, confiscate your car on a whim and make you walk home. At least that is the general perception of this fine national police force held by Brits and Spaniards alike, especially in Andalucía.
So I paid my five pounds and pocketed my new IDP. As I went to put it with all my other Spanish driving documents (there are lots) it occurred to me that I hadn't come across them recently. Panic. I rushed to where they should be. They weren't there or anywhere in the house. They are in Álora (Harry searched the house and found them in the wardrobe) . More panic. I have photocopies but the Guardia can demand to see the originals and I have to drive 1000km. through Spain in a couple of weeks without them. Wish me luck.
Waiting for me?
My experience of the Guardia (pronounced gwardia) Civil began in 2000, the day we signed the papers and moved into number 21. We had told the estate agent that we were interested in buying some of the furniture in the house and when we walked in every movable (and some fixed) object had a 'post it' stuck to it with a price written on . We picked out a few usable items and made what we thought was a reasonable offer when the youngish vendors arrived . No. We had to buy the lot or none. Then the argument started. Our Spanish was limited. They got very angry and stormed out, returning a few minutes later saying that they agreed and would be back at 9.00pm. for the money and to start removing the rest of the house contents.
Just before 9.00pm. a pounding on the steel front doors interrupted our celebratory bottle of wine. Bang Bang Bang. At the door were the aforementioned pair and two Guardia Civil. The four of them barged in with the sellers shouting goodness knows what. We had no idea what was going on. What law had we broken? It must be serious and the two guardia looked very serious. They demanded our papers. We rang the estate agent who spoke Spanish. One of the guards spoke to her. 'They have denounced you for stealing their furniture'. she said.
My knees went weak. The guard examined our passports and the house sale documents. A couple of hours later he looked up , smiled and said 'Es su casa'. (It's your house). 'Suerte!' (Good luck).
He shook our hands and headed for the door, followed by our new Spanish friends.
The relief we felt was short lived. We should have shut the door. I think we were too stunned to take rational actions. The guardia had gone but la pareja came back with a man carrying a tool box. They proceeded to strip the place of any object of any value including light fittings, mirrors etc. Then a procession of men women and children arrived (neighbours presumably) who picked through what was left and carried off what they fancied while we stood and watched.
Before they arrived
The man with the toolbox arrives
Eventually Moira had the idea of taking a photo of 'the sack of Álora'. The camera flashes disturbed the frenzied scavengers and they left. We locked up and headed up into town for a drink and something to eat. We booked in for the night at Hostal Durán on the way there and flew home two days later. It was two months before we came back.
Some years later we found out that all the furniture belonged to us once the papers had been signed. Hey ho.
February 15th. 2013
