Mallorca Arrival April 1986_(2)
To our surprise, John and Daphne Hadland were waiting for us when we exited the arrivals gate. We collected our hire car and went to ‘Continente’ supermarket (now the FAN shopping centre) for provisions. In 1986 the motorway ended just after the airport, then you took the S’Aranjassa ‘roller coaster’ road to Llucmajor, slowing to a crawl to pass oncoming vehicles on the narrow way. Many a valiant driver overtaking on that route ended on a trip to the morgue. From Llucmajor, in swirling dust, we took the unsurfaced road to Campos, and then the country road to Felanitx with unprotected drop-offs on either side.
We would stay with John and Daphne at Can Floquet for a few days until we got ourselves organised, but first, we went to Cana Cavea to check on the state of our new home. Floor tiles had been laid in the downstairs dining area and the newly constructed washroom and kitchen extension. The kitchen was an empty shell with clear polythene sheets nailed to the outside of its window frames. The roof had been raised with pine beams overlaid with flat terracotta bovedillas. The roof was now rainproof, and you could stand upright where it met the outside wall. The rest of the house was as it had been when abandoned years before. It was a far cry from the comfortable white house, 17 Dunstable Road, we’d sold in Flitwick to fund this venture. There was so much work to do, but soon we would move in, sleep on mattresses on the floor and cook on a small primus stove.
On the bright side, we had a shower, toilet, running water, and an electric connection under the stairs, if as yet no internal wiring.
That night, at Can Floquet, Rohan drifted off sucking his fingers, but Tayrne cried before sleeping as she missed her Nanna. I was filled with uncertainty, if Sandy was worried she didn’t show it. During the night there was a terrible thunderstorm with torrential rain. We thought the children would wake, but they slept through it all.
At first light, we went on the veranda to meet the dawn. Everywhere was wet from the rain, with wisps of mist rising between the olive trees as the rays of the early sun dried the earth. The clucking of chickens from the nearby farm, accompanied by the metallic clank of sheep’s bells mingled with a full morning chorus of birdsong. A cuckoo, with monotonous regularity, called in the distance. We asked the children to look, listen and smell everything so they would remember this first morning in Mallorca, their new home.
After breakfast, we drove to 222 Cana Cavea to make a priority list of the doors and windows we needed. Then we went to see, Matius, the carpenter in Cas Concos, who said he would meet us at the house the following day at midday. The day was warm, we went to the bakers by the church to buy a large round loaf. The old baker gave Tayrne and Rohan, who were now walking in their bare feet, each a slice of yellow cake.
We had lunch in sunshine on the terrace at Can Floquet with John and Daphne. Micaela, the old lady and wife of the shepherd Antonio, who’s back yard we had to drive through to get to Can Floquet, came to welcome us with a gift of vegetables and oranges.
After lunch, we walked the lanes to Cana Cavea. Two pigeons had entered through the small slit windows upstairs and settled in the room we’d allocated as our bedroom. A pantomime erupted. In dust and feathers, the fluttering birds were pursued around the place by the four of us. Eventually, they were evicted, and peace returned to the house.
After this diversion, we cleared the rubbish that had accumulated in the house over the years. There were a few religious pictures that we weren’t sure what to do with, and a chalk painted wall plaque of Jesus of the sacred heart, who we hung on the outside wall by the old olive front door. This is where he stayed the whole time we lived in Cana Cavea. I’m an atheist, but that Jesus plaque has been with us throughout our life in Mallorca, and currently hangs outside by the side door of our present home ‘The Wild Olive’.
We made our way through the lanes to Can Floquet in dusk’s light, for supper and an early night.
In 1986, Spain was not in the EEC, and we were mired in bureaucracy. The system seemed stacked against us, whatever we did, we were always short of a piece of paper. Our primary objectives were to get Military Permission to live on the island; Custom’s clearance to import our belongings; and the purchase of a car.
With a mountain of bureaucracy to deal with, we set marigold plants in our garden. We then went to the nearby farmhouse. Sandy wanted a school for the children. Maria, our neighbour, assumed we’d send our children to the International School in Palma. She was surprised when Sandy told her we’d put them into the same school as her children in Felanitx. Maria’s husband, Mateo, said he would take us the next day, but we couldn’t go then as we were going to Palma.
On 21 April, we negotiated the traffic chaos of Palma to order beds for ourselves and the children. If that wasn’t stressful enough we then ventured onto, Polígono Industrial de Son Castelló to find the Ford dealer and order a new Fiesta.
The next day was a bit of a disaster. We made the 124 Km round trip to the shipping agent Frank Short in Avenida Antonio Maura 6-a Palma. We were told we couldn’t get Aduana (Customs) clearance for our belonging, and to return the following day. We were given a form from the Aduana to be signed by two Spanish nationals who would vouch for us. When we got back to Cana Cavea, we went to Mateo who signed the Aduana form. He told us the furniture van had been and gone, so we didn’t get our beds. Then, we went to the builder Rafael, who had built our kitchen extension, for the second signature on the form.
23 April started pleasantly, we had breakfast on the street at a café in Palma. At 09:00 we were at Frank Short’s office, but again we couldn’t get clearance for our things. We were told the Aduana needed the deeds for our house. A positive outcome of the day was, we paid the equivalent of 3,380 UK Pounds, for our new Fiesta hatchback, taxed and insured on the road. We just had to wait for delivery!
We returned to Felanitx to get the deeds to Cana Cavea from the Notario’s office. Alas, it was not to be, the deeds were away being used to process our Military Permission to reside on the island. Before I continue, I have to introduce you to two Spanish words. The word box is ‘caja’, and the word shit is ‘caca’; the difference in their pronunciation is quite subtle. With this in mind: Sandy told the Notario that, all her things were in ‘shit’ at the Aduarna’s. Edwardo, the Notario, an accommodating young man, was not phased by this. He came up with a solution and typed a long letter that he passed to Sandy. Eager to practice his English, he said:
“This is a ‘pubic’ document”. Then went on to explain its importance, continually referring to it as a pubic document. I had difficulty containing myself but felt it was beyond me to explain the minor distinctions between the words pubic and public, so I let him continue.
The next morning, I once more returned to Palma to present the ‘pubic’ document to Frank Short. After reading it, he pronounced that all was now in order and our things would be cleared through customs the following Monday or Tuesday. I left not entirely reassured we had made progress. Back at Cana Cavea, I helped Sandy and the children who had been tidying up. Before we returned to Can Floquet, I sat on the rockery with a glass of wine at sunset and thought what a beautiful place this was, and mused that I enjoyed working on Cana Cavea more than I enjoyed making X-Ray systems for people that were always slow to pay. That night would be the last we’d spend at Can Floquet as the following day our friends Mac and Mel were flying in to help with our relocation. Cana Cavea, the stone tent that it was, for better or worse, was now our home.
So ended the first days of our leap into the unknown.