Álora Here We Come!...But Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed? It's Not Ricitos de Oro, That's for Sure.
Well, here we are, in Birmingham, waiting for the lights to change.
We're due to ship out to Santander next Wednesday. . I've printed off our vaccination certificates from the very friendly NHS App., Monty has an appointment for 11.05am at the vet's for his Animal Health Certificate and we've got a booking at a pet-friendly (10 euros) hotel in Aranjuez for Thursday night. What could go possibly go wrong? - a question which I return to every morning between 5.00am and 6.00am as I like awake in bed fretting and trying to plan for every possible eventuality.
I was led to believe that we need an 'International Driving Permit' to travel in Europe. The UK government website says we don't need one for Spain. I also read in a usually unreliable newspaper that my GB sticker on the car will not do any more...it has to be a UK sticker because ´Great Britain´ doesn´t include Northern Ireland and it may upset the Ulster people. This is also not the case, although you can buy them on Amazon. Halfords don't stock them.
At the moment the only snag appears to be the 'traffic light' classification of every country in the world that anybody might want to go to and then return to Great Britain from . At the moment Spain is an 'amber' country.
If we want to come back from there, we shall have to be fully vaccinated, have taken an official Covid test before we leave Spain (£40), and show proof of a booking for another, more expensive 'PCR' Test' two days after we get back.
Later today the British Government will announce the 'revised' classifications. If Spain goes 'red' today it will make things more difficult for us, although a nice ten-day mini-break in a posh hotel on our return sounds quite attractive.
Even as I write, some of the finest minds in Britain and Northern Ireland are huddled are together in a dimly lit room, deep in the entrails of Number 10 Downing Street.
Doctors, epidemiologists, virologists, public health scholars, statisticians, mappers, game theorists, epistemiologists, sofologists and lots of other 'ologists' are sitting round a big table, weighing up all the evidence from all round the world.
In another room, also somewhere in Number 10 Downing Street, Boris Johnson (Prime Minister), Sajid Javid (Secretary of State for Health) and Gavin Williamson (Secretary of State for Education and Fireplaces and 'caller') sit round an eleborate machine which, to the untrained eye, may resemble a bingo machine.
On a pre-determined signal from Boris, Sajid Javid will spin the balls, each representing a country, in their little round cage, take one out at random and place it in the 'classification tray'. Then Gavin Williamson will call out, for example,
' Australia ....RED!'
or 'Guatamala ....AMBER!
and so on.
Sometimes Gavin, who is known for his quick wit, will shout, 'AMBER PLUS!' or 'RED ENHANCED!' or 'FLASHING AMBER!' and a new category is created. What larks!
The whole process takes about 45 minutes, but everybody has to wait for the scientific and medical 'experts' to finish their discussion, coffee and biscuits. Then their recommendations will be officially accepted by Boris and his wife, duly noted and ignored.
Obviously we are hoping that Spain will be 'green' but 'amber' will be all right, too.
Spain's infection rate is dropping very quickly and its vaccination programme has been phenomenal, overtaking Brexit Britain, so...
Some time later...............
Phew! Spain is staying on amber for the moment, which is good news for us but bad news for anyone flying out to or hoping to return from Montenegro and Thailand which have both gone 'red'. Bad luck, you lot.
Or is it? Mrs. Sanchez has just come back from swimming and a woman there at Fox Hollies Leisure Centre is cockahoop. She has a holiday booked in Montenegro which has been cancelled and Easyjet were not going to refund her for the missed flight unless it was on the red list. Result!
'No hay mal que por bien no venga' (Every cloud has a silver lining).
Our passports are up to date, with more than 6 months of validity.
We've calculated that our return date does not take us outside the permitted 90 days we are allowed stay in Spain.
GB plates..OK
Driving Licences...OK
Car Insurance Green Card...OK
No meat or dairy products in our sandwiches...
I mustn't forget to fill in the Spanish FCS 'locator form' (no more that 48 hours before we dock in Santander), obtain a 'QR' code on line, download it to my phone and hope for the best when we meet the friendly Guardia Civil Border guards at Santander. I´d better do one for Mrs. Sánchez, too.
and then we have to sort out Monty's paperwork.
Since December 2020 Monty's British (EU) Pet Passport is invalid, so he has to have an 'Animal Health Certificate' instead, which has to be obtained no more than 10 days before we leave, will be valid for 4 months, and has to renewed and paid for, before every new trip. These certificates are available from 'your local vet'.
Most of the vets at our local practice are either Portuguese or Spanish. All but one of them has now left the UK. Mariana, from Porto, is the last remaining one, and the only vet left in the practice who is authorised to provide the AHC...and she is going back to Portugal for good in November.
She spent 1 hour 15 minutes filling out the form, which runs to 12 sheets of A4 and has to be signed and stamped 34 times. She´s had to do eleven in the last month and is fed up.
Monty's Animal Health Certificate.
and it cost £250.00.
I got the local vet in Spain to give Monty a Spanish (EU) passport last year but I've not tried to use it yet. He's bound to have made a mistake on it somewhere but I'll give it a whirl on Wednesday.
I have to admit that my knees went weak in the vet's when they gave me the bill. I almost , instinctively, gave 'The 'Barnsley War Cry', 'Ow much?!'
A couple of days before, our neighbours Julie and Alan, in Álora, who keep an eye on our luxury town house there, rang to say that they think somebody is living in there.
The electricity has been turned on, there's beer and tomatoes in the fridge, a half eaten plate of albondigas (meatballs) in the kitchen, greasy plates in the sink, smelly socks and a dirty shirt in our bedroom and our bed. 'has been slept on' and our key won't open the door.
Another (British) neighbour had been round a few days before and rang the doorbell. A small Spanish chap had opened the door and told her we weren't in but would be back on September 8th. Our friends, Celia and Stewart, went round the next day to do some gardening for us. No sign of Goldilocks, but the photos they WhatsApped to us confirmed the 'occupation'.
PANIC!
I rang our neighbour, Isabel, to see if she knew anything about it. Isabel is a delightful, friendly person who speaks a language which, even after 20 years, is incomprehensible to us, and quite possibly to anyone north of Álora. This is what I think she said,
'Oooh Juan! (that's me) how are you? How is the señora? (that's Mrs. S). and the family. When are you coming back? It's very hot.'
'All well thanks. Is there someone in my house?'
'Ah ha ha ha ha! Yes it's Juan.' (not me this time, but the chap who we pay to water the garden. He's a bit simple and doesn't have a phone.). 'Oooh ha ha ha ha' (then a lot of stuff I couldn't make out).
''Is Juan in the house?'
(same as above')
I'm very worried. Has he got the key?'
'Ha ha ha ha ha. Don't worry ha ha ha'.
Isabel. I want to talk to Juan.
'Ha..etc.'
' I want to talk to Juan. Please go and ring the bell.'
I rang Julie and asked her to try a get hold of Juan (physically if neccessary) and get him to talk to me on her phone. By the time she got there Isabel was already ringing our doorbell.
'Juan. Why are you in my house?'
'Hola Juan, tocayo (namesake) How are you? And the señora? And the family?'
'Juan. Why are you in my house?
'....brother....guard.....drugs....gipsies...money....Isabelita....water plantpots.... middle brother....mad.............'
'I want you to leave. I want you to leave now.'
Some minutes later he agreed to leave.
'I'll go at seven o'clock, when I've had my dinner'
'OK'.
'Do you want me to water the macetas (plants) tomorrow?'
'Yes please.'
After he had left and given the key to Julie, she went round to make sure the lock worked and found that Juan had left the place 'spotless.'
Isabel now won't accept our key. I may have evicted a homeless person. My name will be mud now. I must be missing something.
I felt awful.
He's back in there now on the understanding he leaves on Saturday (today).
Watch this space.
Juanito Sanchez August 28th 2021
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