Where Have All the British Gone, Long Time Passing?

23 03 2012
Almerimar

Many reasons are proffered for the collapse of the Spanish real estate market and the departure of the British expat community here in the south of Spain.  The two most popular reasons for the British departure do not ring true.  These reasons are that Brit expats are poor due to the fall in value of the pound against the Euro and the collapse of house prices in UK.


Is it true?


Here are a couple of charts that give you something to wonder about, if you care so to do:

Exchange Rates - Pound v Euro for five years (thanks to yahoo)

First historical exchange rates over 5 years.  No question the pound has suffered since 2008.  In 2008 a pound got you €1.5 and today it buys only €1.20.  Pensioners living in Europe have taken a 20 percent cut in pay over the past years.  However the rate has firmed up and improved since 2009 so over the past two years those same pensioners have received a 10 per cent raise.  All this is over and above any increase in pension benefits that might have been bestowed.


The house price argument raises its own questions.  House prices last year did increase but by far less than inflation.  Real house prices fell again last year.  Except for the stupid years of the early 2000's prices are not substantially changed over ten or fifteen years.  The silly gains of the good years have been matched by equally tragic losses in the bad but overall the Brits aren't really that far back in terms of house prices: unless you believe the artificial pricing of 2002 and 2003 is a fair benchmark.





Almerimar was originally developed to be sold to Japanese.  The marina manager is Japanese and he decided to remain when his Nipponese employer sold out.  When the Japanese influx failed to materialize the project was repackaged for sale to golf mad Dutch.  Then the Brits found themselves marvellously enriched by the housing boom and a high flying pound and they formed the base of purchasing.  


Now no one invests here.


No one except a group of self styled real estate sharks.  These guys think they have found the money making bargain of a lifetime and so they are buying into the falling market of Almerimar.  Formerly mild mannered milquetoasts these newfound land barons picture themselves as predators swimming as equals with the sharks.  


I wonder why the real sharks are selling so cheap.


Regardless the last two years have not impoverished the Brits.  They have vamoosed for other reasons, if in fact they were ever actually here.  

I's the B'y Who Builds the Boat: Advice From Paul Fay on Adding Two Stroke Oil to Diesel Fuel

24 03 2012
Stuck in the Twilight Zone, Sea of Tranquility
Storm is Over, Never Really Happened, Rain Forecast Prohibits Painting Today

Ti Gitu - a Fay 40 Radius Chine
Designed, Built and Sailed by Paul Fay

Paul Fay is an interesting guy, his wife Mo even more so.  Paul is an inventor, shipwright and marine surveyor who knows a lot about a lot of stuff.  He designed his own wind self steering system.  Paul and Mo sail Ti Gitu, a 38 foot, steel hulled, twin masted, junk rigged sailboat of Paul's design and construction and we met them first in Bermuda and then weeks later again in Flores and Horta.


Mo took up sailing at a late stage in life and at the age of 52 undertook a solo crossing of the Atlantic Ocean in a vessel closely resembling Joshua Slocum's Spray.  She accomplished this amazing feat in a boat designed specifically for her and built by Paul.  This was how they met: Mo needing boats and Paul supplying them.  You can read about some critical bits of Mo's life in her book Lone Voyager: One Woman's Journey of Self Discovery.


Anyway Paul is writing a Blog chock a block with good info on how to maintain your sailing yacht.  You find it at faymarine.blogspot.com.   I suspect Mo is writing the thing or at least cleaning it up.  Paul was never that glib when we were drinking his favourite Grant's whiskey.  Mind you taht was usually about 3 in morning when all the pantywaists had drifted away to bed.  


His latest entry is on Adding Two Stroke Oil to the diesel fuel used in older (pre 2006 build) diesel engines to compensate for the lost lubricity in modern low sulphur fuels.  Our friends back home nearly all have such older engines and most of them would benefit greatly from Paul's well written advice. 


It is a far more complicated topic that you might imagine and Paul gives it a good airing.  He tells you what kind of Two Stroke Oil to buy (who knew there were different kinds) and what ratios to mix it at.  


So, if your diesel was built before 2006 add TSO (two stroke oil) to the fuel.  Paul tells you what and how.  


I am a follower of Paul's site and find it very worthwhile.

The Disappeared Bunnies of the Sea of Tranquillity And Anyway What is All This Sea of Tranquillity Business

19 03 2012


Tranquility Base, Espagna


"Es tranquil" erupted our host, Francesco.  "Es muy tranquil".  (or words that sounded a lot like that.  My facility with Spanish is tragic despite four months of erratic hit and miss efforts to learn a noun or conjugate a verb or two.)


Through the kindness of strangers we were dinner guests that night of Conchi and Francesco, a cultured, compassionate and successful Spanish couple whom we met through the Budget Committee's morning exercise exertions.


Over our third or fourth bottle of wine from Francesco's excellent cellar Francesco sought to explain the key difference between our two societies, North American and Spanish.  Spain was tranquil he was proposing.


It happens that the BC and I agree with Francesco's observation, so much so that we now refer to the waters in which we sail (those bordered by Portugal, Spain, Italy, Greece) as the "Sea of Tranquillity".  Meredith has become Tranquility Base.


Here come the bunnies: Spain was given its name, "Espagnol", by invading Carthaginians who named it "the Land of Rabbits".  


Spain is our favourite country outside of Canada and it holds us captivated.  If only it weren't so darn hot.  Seems to us Canada and Spain could do with some serious sharing of business and social practices.  We both have much to offer the other.


In the house of successful families like Conchi and Francesco, cooling pool in the front yard, tasteful local art adorning its three floors and expansive balconies,  it is easy to see Spain as a country without focus on or even awareness of its problems. The tranquillity with which the Spanish deal with their problems can deceive the innocent into believing that Spain is trouble free.  As was observed by one boater friend "The children never cry in Spain.  Eveyone is so happy".


That kind of comment is redolent of the "nseeing bunnies of Richard Adams Watership Down.  Remember the society of bunnies kept by a farmer.  Every day food and shelter were provided and life was good.  It was just that every now and then a bunny would disappear.  Not wishing to upset their cozy little world the domesticated bunnies handled the disappearances by banning the memory of the disappeared bunny.  Eveyone just pretended the bunny never existed and so no one had anything to worry about.  


Not all the children are happy in the Land of Rabbits.


Francesco was a builder and a developer.  Until that is the Spanish market for real estate collapsed.  And no the Americans did not suffer a similar crash.  We have seen communities affected by both nations' market "corrections" and as bad as things got in the US they are far worse here.


Francesco changed careers.  Now he manages the family greenhouses.  In his spare time he manages the construction of a hospital in Africa.  It was beyond my skills in Spanish to determine if this were a business proposition or just charitable concern.  It could have been either and there was no boasting of it by Francesco.  In fact Francesco did not mention the hospital or his work at all.  He just dealt with the troubles.  Tranquilly I suppose but effectively.


Spain's government institutions are failing its people and families like our friends have an incredible job to do to prevent a major collapse of their society.  With only 32.5 million people Spain and 20% unemployment Spain has 1 million undocumented workers, mainly Moroccans, working for under the table wages in terrible conditions.  Such a situation can only exist with government knowledge.  There is estimated to be €500 billion to €700 billion in bad debts that have not been declared as such by the banks which have underwritten them.  When the loans finally are removed from the banks' balance sheets there will be a banking collapse like never seen before.  Again the government has to know and collude in this situation.   Caritas, a Catholic charity, estimates that as much of 50% of the population around Almeria lives below the poverty line.


Hamstrung by a government controlled by wealthy citizens families like Conchi and Francesco have an incredible job ahead of them.  There are thousands of citizens passionate about their country and growing increasingly active in demanding reform.  


Just now they have suffered some setbacks.  A reforming Madrillano judge, Balthazar Garzon, famous in Canada for obtaining the extradition for trial of Agusto Pinochet has just been removed from the bench.  His crime was to order wire taps of members of the Falangists and other right wing political parties and some construction company executives so he could determine whether bribes were being paid.  The government had him disbarred for his audacity.  With overwhelming vocal support from the Spanish people he has fought back and obtained reversals of two of the convictions and is appealing the third. 


Go Garzon.  He has friends in low places (common people not crooks) and they are becoming active in the reform of their country.


My money is on the Spanish.  It would be so nice if my second favourite country dealt more effectively with the challenges of tyranny and political self service than my country of birth.

No Work Today My Calm Has Gone Away

23 03 2012
Tranquility Base, Sea of Tranquility, Espagna

Meredith (on the left fool) without her stanchions and lifelines
ready to be painted

It is official.  We shall never get out of Almerimar alive.


All that we needed to do to lelave was paint the toerail.  Just three or four coats of Cetol and away we would go.  All the sanding was finished, the seams caulked and the forecast for a continuation of the last fortnight's "light and variable".


Today we woke to the sound of the marineros frantically tying lines on unoccupied boats and rousing the crews of those which were to inform the owners.  Bad weather coming they said.  Winds 140 to 160 km per hour.  


For sure the 0700 winds were a sprightly 15 knots.


No one paints in 15 knot winds.  Now we have no idea if anyone paints in 70 knot winds.  That is a mistake we have not yet made.  


Here we sat with the biggest blow of our stay at Almerimar inbound and we with no stanchions up and no lifelines from which to hang fenders.  You have seen how close the boats are moored here (about six inches apart at the beam) so fenders are essential. 

Paula and Hanno at Quiz Night

As we did not appear in response to the light tapping on our decks by the somewhat timid (read polite) marinero we were not properly informed of coming conditions.  Enter our good friends Hanno and Paula.  No one ignores Hanno.  He is the guy smart captains always pick first for their team.  Stupid captains never understand why.


Ex British forces, ex SAS, former marksman, former sniper, one time British Army marksman of the year, ex carpenter, ex fishing boat captain and current shipwright, Hanno is one cool dude.  Offered a big money job as a mercenary in Africa Hanno bowed to one of the two things on this planet that are important to him: his daughter, Carrie.


Equally important to Hanno is Paula, about whom you need know only two things:  One is that she tamed Hanno.  The other is that she sold her house in Britain packed up a suitcase of clothes and another suitcase with the cash from the sale of the house (literally) and drove with an overloaded trailer to Almerimar with Hanno.  Here she will begin a new life as cruising sailor. 


Not too exceptional you think until you learn that Paula has never been to sea on a sailboat.  Not ever.  Yet here she is readying her boat for a lifetime afloat.  


To hell with the wind.  When things have calmed down we're gonna go have tea aboard Calypso, Hanno and Paula's boat.  Beats painting by a damn site.

Happy Birthday Juan Gris. The Perils of Google Translate.

23 03 2012
Tranquility Base, Sea of Tranquility, Spain

Today's Topics:

Boatwork
Hard at Work the  Budget Committee (Her Shoe)
Up the Mast 
Note the Mooring Arrangements -
Meredith is the NoMan's Land Between German Olli and Brit Casa

Google Translate
Google's Misleading Translation of its Own Doodle

Boatwork - Abherrence v Abhorrence


It is official.  We will never get out of Almermar alive.  Now in Day Five of sanding the toerail down to bare wood and prepping for new Cetol we have encountered a host of insurmountable problems.


That we began the process of renewal on poor overcharged Meredith is unusual in the extreme here in the centre of expat society.  Examine the two boats which are moorred beside us:

To starboard (your left if you look at the aerial photo above) is the British Westerly Casa, untouched by her owners in years if not decades.  Pay particular attention to the Dodger (or Sprayhood as they call it here).  Opaque is not an adequate descriptor.  Perhaps "deeply opaque".

And then, on our port (to the right in the photo above and to the left) is German Bavaria Olli which proves that anything the British can do the Germans can do better.  Not only can you not see out of this dodger but the mast has fallen some time in the mists of time and punched a couple of holes.  Which explains the dark spot on the upper left bit of the window on the dodger.


In our efforts to For starters Sikkens Cetol Marine products are not sold in Europe any longer.  A host of excuses have been given, mostly aligned with the theme that Cetol is banned for environmental reasons.


Untrue of course.  From my research I discover that Cetol Marine coating is made in the USA and shipped to Europe in 55 gallon drums.  Once on this side of the Atlantic the barrels are decanted into smaller 750 ml cans for retail sale.  Guess what: Europeans do not like using American stuff.  So the Europeans just stop selling it and I am certain began the nasty rumours.  


It is all just economic xenophobia.


On Meredith we love Cetol especially now that they have the new "light" version.  A couple coats of Cetol Marine Light and a couple more of Marine Gloss and you have a fantastic maintenance free coating to protect your wood.


Sikkens USA suggested we try to find some old stock in Europe to tide us over.  This we did at a bankrupt marine store (there are so many in Spain this year) liquidating old stock.  Euro labelling system describes the product as "wood varnish" and it took a few emails to Sikkens USA to sort out that we could use this product here and continue with Cetol when we get back home.


Sikkens customer service - IN NORTH AMERICA - is fantastic.  In Europe it is nonexistent.


Today was also the day we were to begin coating.  The wind is up however to 15 to 20 knots, the first day it is so in three weeks.  No coating gets done in 20 knot wind.


Fun with Google Translate


Accessing the internet is problematic on many fronts in Spain. Lousy wifi service is only the beginning.  Once you connected most browsers identify the country you are in from your IP address and then route you to local services and web pages - Google.ES for example.  


These local pages are mostly in Spanish which is lovely if you are Spanish speaking.  Not on Meredith where linquistic progress ceased the moment I could order a Cervesa Grande y tapas.  Imagine my joy when I discovered it was not common to say "please" when you order in Spain.  That reduced my memory work by almost 20%.  


Anyway Google has a built in translation service which is nothing short of a marvel of programming.  Change the settings on your Chrome browser and it will automatically transate everything on almost any webpage into English.  

Juan Gris' The Guitar

There are some humourous lapses however.  Today's Google Search doodle, the neat graphic that heads up the search engine every day, is in honour of Juan Gris, the Madrillano artist, a contemporary of Matisse and Modigliani who was a force in the development of the Cubists style of painting.


However, since I have Google set to translate when I put the cursor over the image it tells me the graphic is there in honour of the 125th anniversay of John Gray.  

John Gray's Brown and White Spaniel

Now John Gray paints nice British pictures of pouffy dogs and dreary landscapes and he could never be confused for Juan Gris.


All of which is just good fun.  Google has advanced the abilities of all users of the internet in phenomenal ways and their translate service is just one more example.  Other translators are good but Google's is eminently usable and nearly invisible.

Quiz Night At the OK Corral

08 03 2012 (day 33 of Boatwork)
Almerimar

"Don't you mean 'what is the only mammal that lays eggs?'"  inquired my hapless spouse of the round gray Quizmaster running this week's Quiz night.  She should not have done so.

The moment the question fell from her lips the room at cafe Espigone grew instantly quiet, as quiet as if some hapless poor Moroccan had just walked in the front door.  One does not,  one never ever, quizzes the Quizmaster at the weekly quiznight in Almerimar.

The quizmaster is omnipotent and all knowing.  If a question does not make sense one accepts that the failing is one's own and one seeks meaning in the words of the enlightened master through greater concentration and meditation.  It rarely works.

Welcome to Trivial Pursuit: Blood Sport Edition.

But back to the Budget Committee and her predicament.  "Young lady" intoned the rich baritone of the aging female beachball holding the microphone "The question stated was this: what is the only animal that lays eggs.  A mammal is NOT an animal so clearly that is not what I meant."

The Budget Committee sat down, her mouth clamped so tight I think she bruised her jaw.

Now this is just the beginning of the saga of BC v Quizmaster.  At the end of the night we trade3 our answer sheets with our neighbours and mark each others' answers.  The answer to the egg laying animal question was "duck billed platypus".  Now a platypus does lay eggs and is clearly an animal.  Equally clearly the platypus is a mammal.

Having learned her lesson the BC did not protest.  Neither did anyone else.

Our Belgian friends once protested that the questions were too hard to understand.  That night half the questions were on 1950s' and 1960s' BBC radio shows.  "Madam" explained that night's quizmaster, "these questions are not for your kind. They are for the British".

One very good friend is convinced the players are plotting against him.  He is convinced they deliberately arrive early to force him to take a different table than he normally takes.  The flaw in his neurosis is that he always sits at the very same table every week.  However the competitive juices do flow at quiznight.

Two weeks ago our quizmaster was Scottish which meant he could barely speak English and when he did no one could understand a word of it.  At one point the room had him spell the words in his question but we could not figure out what letters he was saying.

There was one night however when, buoyed by a fit of colonial pique, we did dare to protest.  The question was "what Canadian province has the same name as a breed of dog?".  We allowed without comment the inference in the phrasing that Canadian provinces were somewhat less than the dogs after which they were named however we could not ignore the quizmaster's answer which was  "Labrador".

Labrador?  Labrador?   The Canadian province of Labrador?

I rose ponderously on a point of privilege, quickly establishing my credentials and bona fides (62 years spent studying Canadian geography, steady C student and all of that sort of thing) and then apologized for having to hesitantly point out that sadly Labrador was not a province.  My explanation continued to explain that while not itself a province Labrador did by happy coincidence form part of the province of Newfoundland which did oddly enough share its name with a breed of dog.

A tense silence followed my terse delivery.  The brow of the quizmaster furled and unfurled, reddened, went pale and reddened again as the possibilities were sifted through.  "Ahhhh, I see." began the quizmaster.  "Well in that case your table may have a point for the answer 'Newfoundland'.  The other tables will be bound by the official answer of 'Labrador'"

The matter disposed of, the quizmaster returned to delivering answers to the remaining questions.

Now what intrigued me about this question of Labradorian dogs was that three tables got the question right, by which I mean the wrong answer.  Three tables answered "Labrador".  Makes you wonder.

Revenge however comes next Wednesday.  I am quizmaster.

Living Life the Hemingway

2012 03 07
Almeriimar, Ejido, Andalucia, Spain

This year we did things the Hemingway.

In Farewell to Arms Ernest Hemingway had his protagonist alone with his great true love in a cozy mountain shack in an exotic European mountain setting, isolated from society, even the local population, by mountainous snowfalls and force of will.  The hero was retreating from the brutality and senseless slaughter of civilization at war and from the  ambition of men that initiated such failure in society.

Snowed into his mountain redoubt he found love, peace and the opportunity to reflect.  Mainly I remember that the guy drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed with his great true love.

We know his pain.  The crew of Meredith emerges from the grip of Spanish winter isolated from the world, not by snow and distance, but by lack of language skills, lack of communications, lack of transportation and lack of internet.

Moored in a sleepy little coastal town in the foothills of a European mountain range we escape the mundane world left to us by the passage of time, the maturing of personalities and the aging of frames.  Denied the diversions of great wealth, not satisfied with the exercise of the meager power amassed during our lives or the diversions offered by the consumerism made possible through abuse of desperate Chinese labourers, we sought something more.  We found a quiet winter permitting reading and drinking and spending time in bed (sleeping of course).

It has been a marvellous winter and Spain is an unbelievable place, currently our favourite destination.    Spring is upon us however.  Our hibernation and months of quiet living and reflection come to an end.  Boatwork is upon us.

As I finished Farewell to Arms and was asked by the author to share his character's pain and sense of loss my only thought of the protagonist was this:

"You are an egotistical self pitying ass."