Touring the Delta, icy fog on the finca

The weather continues to be chilly, with an amazing blanket of icy fog on the olive trees as we drove to the finca with Pep to show him around. It was as if a veil of lacy net had been cast over the country side. The region is so diverse, with so many micro climates, that you can drive from ice to oranges within fifteen minutes.
We wound our way over the mountainside towards the Ebro, via Miravet, to the delta. Our goal was lunch in San Carles de la Rapita, a fishing port where a fresh daily catch is guaranteed. Had a great lunch of various shell fish and grilled whole fish. As we wound our way back over the delta, amazed at the rice fields dotted with a variety of exotic birds, we found a ferry shuttling vehicles across a narrow waterway, a short cut back to autopista (main highway). In to Reus for a cable Cyrus needed for his laptop, a few vegetables and fresh bread for dinner, and back to the hotel for chicken soup and more knitting.

In the Priorat

We've arrived, to great fanfare. There was indeed snow on the ground, the villages and grapevines blanketed in a lovely white. We were greeted at (Cal-Llop) with hugs and kisses, shouts of "los americanos"! and spent the weekend drinking and laughing, culmunating in a family feast to clean out the kitchen stores before the official vacation closing. Peter Fischer, from (Chateau Revelette) arrived with his wine making partner Eric, who only spoke French, driving from Marseilles with bottles of his amazing white wine. The delightful Fredi, a Swiss wine god trapped in a Spanish man's body, from (Sao del Coster) arrived with red. And we novices from the Oregon wine country arrived with two Pinot's and a Cab from Walla Walla. The first Pinot hit the mark, the second was pummeled, and the Cab was packed by Cristina for their trip to Menorca. The feast was a glorious cacophony of French, Spanish, English, and Catalan. Music!
Our first sojourn to the finca was an adventure of snow and mud. We managed to get two thirds of the way down the dirt track off the main road, and were greeted by fallen rock. David swung the car up an incline, in the hopes of turning around in sinking mud. No such luck. He proceeded to back the car up the road, full tilt, to avoid getting stuck, until he hit a wide spot to turn around in. Cyrus and I walked behind with the shovel, our thoughts being less pressure with no passengers in the car. The air was fresh, the scent or rosemary mixed with the crispness of the snow absolutely intoxicating. We headed back to Cal Llop mud spattered but dizzy with the joy of not getting stuck.
Today we meet with our man Jeff about what's next, and then off to the finca with Pep Figueres, another builder, to get a second opinion and estimate on the casita. Stay tuned, as everyday brings "algo nuevo".

On the road

Well, we are taking the plunge, a month in the Priorato. Our friends Cristina and Waldo from (Cal-Llop) have invited us to house sit the hotel while they are on vacation, from mid-January to mid-February. We jumped at the opportunity. The permit for the casita renovation is in hand, and we want to hammer out the details with Alex of Julex, the contractor. Cyrus is going with us, our resident architect, to offer perspective.Very exciting.We will have a month to truly get a sense of what it might be like to be there year round. The weather will be cold in the evening, fresh during the day (average 60 degrees with sun). An adventure. The wonderful Cristina said it reminded her of the Berlanga film Bienvenidos Mr. Marshall, and in particular the scene
(Americanos os Recibimos). Too funny.
Let the adventures begin!

Permits coming in!

Word from Jeff, the permits are in the hopper. We can legally renovate our casita, the 50 square meter wonder. The well permit awaits a final rubber stamp. But we are on the way to becoming farmers in the Spanish countryside.
Our friends Cristina and Waldo in Gratallops have offered us the use of their delightful hotel C'al Llop (cal-llop) from mid-January for one month, while the hotel is closed and they take vacation. A month in the Priorat! We are excited and nervous simultaneously. The litmus test. I adore Cristina. She's funny, smart, and full of life. She sent a greeting referencing the marvelous Spanish black and white film Bienvenido Mr. Marshall, "Americanos os Recibimos". Check it out!(Americanos os Recibimos)
Jeff sent images of a similar casita the contractor has been working on in nearby Vinebre. Overall looks good. Our month will be spent hammering out the details, and hopefully overseeing "groundbreaking". We are committed to this project, come hell or high water. The economic crisis only adds to the resolve to not become immobilized with fear. Slog on, that's the adventure of life.
We hope to also be poking around looking at townhouses. The "casita de campo" on Finca C'an Do will be just that, not a palatial Spanish country house. The system is casita in the country, townhouse in the village. Been that way for centuries. We have no interest in being "expatriates" but rather members of a community as it exists. Vamos a ver. Faith and patience.

In order to keep my mind off the horrifying political developments in this country, my mind wanders to the dream that keeps me going, Finca C'an Do.
We are often asked how complicated is it to buy property and move to Spain. Not so complicated, more taxing on the nerves. In order to purchase our finca in La Figuera, I applied for an NIE, a number assigned foreigners by the government. This I did through the embassy in San Francisco, showing proof of intent to purchase property. It can also be done at the local police station in Spain. A residency is another matter entirely. For now, all I need is the NIE, which has allowed us to purchase the property, have a bank account, and transact any business regarding the finca. Next step, a residency. In order to do that I need to have the following:

-Proof of income (a job, pension etc. A healthy savings account will probably also work, but the actual amount you need is likely to vary from place to place.)
-Proof of social security registration or private medical insurance
-Passport
-Finally if you are married and one of you will be dependent on the other, you will need your marriage certificate.

I have been working on multiple angles in order to show proof of income, namely my clothing business (sarasutton) and my artist site (saradochow). Both are coming along, and it is my fervent hope that these will, in a years time, suffice. Because, as far as pension and healthy savings go, when you are self-employed your entire life, and have raised three kids in the manner deemed necessary, such nuts do not exist.
The medical insurance issue, well, we have it, in a manner of speaking. We pay, out of our pocket, an astronomical sum for nothing. Such is the American way. Good luck, presidential candidates, fixing this monstrosity. The search is on for private health
insurance in Spain. And as far as social security is concerned, our meager amounts combined should pay for the basics, if we don't have a mortgage and mounting insurance costs to deal with.
A passport we both have. Unlike that pit bull with lipstick, Sarah Palin, I have had a passport since I was born. David recently was issued a new passport, to replace the expired one. It is an offensive document graphically, full of flag waving and patriotic jingoism, an embarrassment, a hideous display of red, white, and bullshit.
And finally, we are indeed married, and most certainly are dependent on each other, and have the certificate to prove it.
Nerves of steel are a must, or, as David puts it, be prepared to not blink. Our well permit seems to be hung up in semantics. We expressed a need for domestic water, but since the farm is deemed rustic property, Jeff had to scramble to rewrite as farm use water. We wait for that approval, fingers crossed, eyes straight ahead. And the local council is reviewing our plans for renovation of the casita as I write. Nerves of steel, something I never thought I possessed. But, hell, it's a game of chicken right now in the US of A. What a scary time. And Palin, what a scary woman. John McCain is sinister and cynical, Sarah Palin is just plain frightening, a real setback to the hard work of Lydia Chapin Taft and Susan B. Anthony. Guns don't make the woman.

C'an Do Slide Show

A slide show of C'an Do and surroundings. Enjoy!

My lord, we just went to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Woody's neurosis gets on my nerves sometimes, amusing as he can be. What saved the movie, with delightful counterpoints of waspish coolness brought to the film by Rebecca Hall and Patricia Clarkson, were, without question, Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz. I hear Spanish spoken and I'm there, but articulated by these two and I am transported to a world of hope and possibility. My god, to be reincarnated as Penelope Cruz! She is fire without the brimstone, passion without the fear, unadulterated abandon. Of course, the Catalans are probably peeved that Woody cast Bardem, from the Canarias, as a Barcelona denizen, with all dialogue in Castellano. Así es la vida.
I truly dislike going to movie theaters, with the incessant yakking, concession crunching, dumbfounded lack of humor that permeates the room. And I thought the film lacked a little no se que, trying too hard at Truffaut or something. But Bardem and Cruz, standing in the street, wailing at each other full bore, was worth the pain. Que viva España!

(vickycristinabarcelona)