I grew up a few hundred meters from here. The Mediterranean was my view every morning when I woke up and as my mum drove my brother and I to the school bus stop. One of the things I remember vividly about those mornings (apart from always being the last one in the car!) was the morning scent. Standing by the bus stop seeing the sun rise and smelling the season. 

September was the month school started again after a three month summer holiday of going to the beach, chilling (although we didn’t call it that back then!) having friends over from Holland, late dinners, very few early mornings, the yearly visit to the amusement park Tivoli, and swimming, a lot of swimming.

The first day of school was always very exciting. Who were the newcomers and who had left without notice? There were no Instagram stories back then where we could follow each other's daily activities. Three months of holidays meant you knew nothing about most people for those three months. An international school tends to be in a a continuous flow of pupils and teachers coming and going. But we were there. With our new diary, shiny shoes and a fresh hairdo my brother and I would be waiting for the school bus. Antonio, the bus driver, was a man of few words but on the first school day he was still very enthusiastic to see us hop on.

I am thinking back to those years as I’m looking towards that very same spot which I can almost see from where I am on the beach. So much has changed since the late seventies. For a start, you could park anywhere! All women older than 40 wore black, somebody would have died in the family by then and a long period of mourning started which for some never ended. Girls of my age were all in dresses with frills and flowers, boys wore bermudas and a small version of their father’s moccasins. No trainers, no sports clothes unless you were a national athlete or aspired to being one. 

There were no large supermarkets but many smaller, family owned ones in all the different barrios. No English marmelade, German sausages or Dutch chocolate sprinkles. Nobody spoke English, we were known as the guiris, the foreigners, and although we were treated with kindness there was a very clear feeling of not really belonging.

The phone lines didn’t reach our house so we spent the first  years being incommunicado from our family apart from the post which was delivered when there was enough to make it worth the trip. I still feel a surge of excitement when I hear a scooter driving up to our house now as it immediately reminds me of the postman bringing letters from friends back then. It’s almost impossible to imagine now, how the only news we got in those days came out of a little radio my father had by his bed to listen to the BBC world service and once in a while an international newspaper he bought at the news stand from the day before.

We grew up eating all the fish, salad and olives that children in the Netherlands wouldn’t want to have anything to do with. Having a family lunch was our highlight, preferably on the beach, preferably a few tapas followed by a large paella.

It often overwhelms me how much I love this country. How much I love this way of life, the people, their customs, their ways. Their passion and family values.

I remember on one occasion there was an argument with someone in the cue of the supermarket and when my mother intervened to try to settle it, as she would, we were told by one rather unpleasant personality to ‘Go back to your country!' It completely knocked me out. But THIS is my country! this is where my house is, my friends and my life! 

More than 40 years later and with a lot of coming and going between countries, we are now back, Back to La Tierra. And yes, this area of Spain has been greatly impacted by tourism. Some feel it has lost its authenticity, its quaint little streets and traditional culture. Wanting to keep things how they were to optimise our foreign experience is not only rather selfish, it’s impossible. Times change, people change, new generations have new dreams. The internet has made access to information available to the furthest corners of the world. And that is a good thing. You can now enjoy the Mediterranean pleasures and still feel part of the world at large. The guiris like us, have had children who are now creating a third generation of international citizens who shift between cultures and languages quicker than changing their shoes.

The Costa del Sol has truly become a capital of the world with all its diversity and richness in cultures. And like any capital, there will be parts you may choose not to visit.

But the most important things will never change. The smell of a September morning, a new generation of excited children waiting for the bus on their first school day. Passionate conversations, warm welcomes, magical moments as the bright sun rises out of the blue Mediterranean and romantic sunsets with a backdrop of the African coastline.

The family paella on our beach has never tasted better. 

Viva Espana.

Hasta la vista! 

Paul & Marina