Our finca was originally supposed to be finished by the end of February.
Knowing the Spanish mañana culture, we didn’t really expect that to happen. But we didn’t expect six months to turn into twelve either.
At some point, we politely stopped asking when everything would be ready and simply announced: we’re coming at the end of July for three days – and we’re moving in. We didn’t want to keep renting our temporary home any longer.
The plan was simple.
Day one – pack everything up at the rental house and assemble the bed and wardrobes at the finca.
Day two – move everything to the finca.
Day three – clean the rental house and assemble the kitchen units.
What could possibly go wrong?
Three days, 37°C and a very clear plan.
Simon had knee surgery at the end of June, so I had prepared myself to do most of the moving. I even made him promise not to lift anything heavy.
How naive of me.
Anyone who knows Simon knows that standing by and watching is not exactly one of his strengths.
Outside it was 37°C. Luckily, most of our work was indoors, but spending the whole day moving between boxes, furniture and tools was still quite a challenge. Thermos bottles filled with ice-cold water became our best friends.
While packing, I kept wondering how it was possible to accumulate so much stuff again in just two years. And the worst part was that almost everything seemed absolutely necessary.
By then, the finca had everything we needed to live there: hot running water, working kitchen appliances and finished surfaces. A few lights were still missing, along with the metal railings around the stairs and balcony, the fireplace, and the kitchen drawer units. The outdoor area and pool should be finished by the end of September.
Hopefully 🙂
So – the house is almost finished.
The house is almost finished. The home is only just beginning.
Then it was time for the kitchen units.
It turned out that the units we had ordered didn’t fit between our Spanish-style kitchen walls. Our local carpenter, Juan Antonio, looked at the situation and shook his head – removing the excess layer of mortar would be quite a job.
Simon looked at it a little differently.
Luckily, he had the right tools, and two hours later the problem was solved. The dust from grinding down the walls managed to find its way into pretty much every corner of the house.
And yes – we later discovered that Simon’s knee had been put under rather more strain than a recently operated knee should have been. But by then, at least the kitchen units had somewhere to go.
By the end of the second day, all our belongings had made it to the finca. We opened a bottle of sparkling wine.
This moment was worth the wait.
And we even danced on the balcony. The very same balcony that still didn’t have any railings.
That was the moment when it really sank in: we did it.
Something that had once been just an idea was now actually there. For me, one of life’s greatest pleasures is seeing how a dream becomes an idea, and then, step by step, turns into something real.
Tired, dusty and very happy.
Los Cantos de la Era is now in that strange and lovely in-between stage: the house is almost finished, but the home is only just beginning to take shape.
In September, the next chapter begins. No more building – now it’s about making it a home. And at the same time, the olives for the new season are growing in the grove.
By mid-October, the new harvest will already be under way.
It feels as though several new chapters are beginning at Los Cantos all at once.