Columnists

AN ENGLISH GIRL IN MARBELLA: PART II

Hola Everyone!

Greetings from the ever sunnier Spain. I have to begin by apologising for not writing this sooner but if you continue to read on, you will soon realise why. Having set upon my mission in pursuit of success, a place to live and a better tan, I have to admit I have come across some obstacles, that one by one I’m slowly shovelling out of my path.

The most important thing on the agenda was to find somewhere to live; a nice little place with a gorgeous view, a place to put my writer’s desk, and preferably a pool… Too much to ask? Yes. My goodness, I traipsed all over Marbella in search of the perfect habitat only to met with demands for a “Nomina” (work contract), five months rent upfront and eleven month rent contracts. I calmly explained that I needed somewhere to live before starting the job hunt, five months rent upfront was ludicrous and in the wild and certainly untamed anticipation of success and lots of money, I did not want to sign a contract for a tiny apartment when perhaps within a year I would be living in a mansion that would make the Russians look cheap (I will explain later). And so the search continued.

You have to be wary of looking in newspapers for places to live. One advert read:

“3 bed, 3 bath, pool, jacuzzi, sauna, furnished. 300 euros p/m” Wow! I thought, then I read on… “For 3 girls to occupy, no inhibitions, good times.” What the hell am I getting myself into?

If that wasn’t enough, there were plenty of ads for “Centro Marbella”. Now, centre does not always mean centre. In fact it never does. Centre was “turn right in the centre of Marbella and continue three miles up a mountain”, or it was in the roughest areas where a small blonde English girl should never go.

I eventually found somewhere on the outskirts of Puerto Banus, though it does not have a jacuzzi, nor a sauna… not even a community pool. It is a cute little studio with a kitchen that has no cooker, a bathroom/ laundry and nowhere near enough wardrobe space to house my poor Manolos. I never was much of a chef and I am quite content to live off cheese sandwiches. And how lovely it was to discover that the washing machine empties into my bath. Needless to say I was taking a shower at the time… wonderful! It has not been a complete failure though, the apartment has the most beautiful views of San Pedro and I can sit on my little balcony with my cheese sandwich, look out over the sea and feel rather content.

The success part is what is coming more slowly than previously anticipated. I sent my CV everywhere only to be told that there wasn’t really anything for me at the moment. Hmmm. What to do now? I am one tick off finishing the checklist: school, yes, university, wonderful…job? A degree does not promise you a job (”trabajo”, remember?) and though I knew this already, deep down I wanted to continue in my naive little bubble. A writer who has worked here in Marbella for years pointed this out to me in a barbed comment he left at the bottom of my last column. Someone had seen my post and sent it to him, not “Hey look at this it´s amazing!” but in more of a “Who the hell is this?” manner. Nevertheless, he got in touch with me and has since taken me under his wing and introduced me to some industry movers. I am indebted to him for all his help and advice.

So, what now for me and my Manolos? There is rent to be paid and I’m not sure if I have as yet acquired the complexity, depth and stupidity to live my life as a poor writer. Though it does still lie within my hidden ambitions. I managed to land a job working in a boutique in Puerto Banus as an assistant (Does that sounds better than “I work in a shop”? - yes I think it does). There are a few advantages here, one of the principal ones being languages. My Spanish is coming along nicely and I´m learning a little Russian. Russian? Yes, Russian. Would you believe me if I told you that everyday I see more Russians in the shop than anyone else? I tell you, the Russian girls I work with are making a fortune in commission. And the Russians mostly pay in cash…

They totter in with their skyscraper heels and ask in very serious tones, “Do you zell ze Cavalli?”
“Yes, madam we do. It is upstairs.” I say, while trying to fend off the aggressive chihuahua with the Gucci collar snapping at my ankles.

I love the different cultures that exist here in Marbella. It is a huge melting pot of all nationalities from all walks of life. The few things in common between them all are the exquisite tastes in handbags. The Spanish women are always accompanied by Hermes, while the Japanese carry Gucci. The Russians love their Chanel and just when I start to miss home, “Ey La! They sell the Juicy handbags here!” can always be heard.

Will keep you posted!
Ciao for now XoXo

Privacy Policy  •   Terms of Service  •  Student Newspaper Advertising   •  Contact Us