There's no place like home...
- Johnny Storm
- Nov 28, 2016
- 4 min read
After our epic twenty hour journey to the Island the first order of business was to find a place to stay. No, the first order of business was to drink beer, get a tan and then find a place to stay. We settled in to our temporary abode and relished the fact that we were taking the month of July as a holiday. A whole month! What fun. However, with the knowledge that our entire worldly possessions were slowly making their way across the Atlantic and we only had this bungalow until the end of September, finding a permanent home was top of the agenda. After the beer and the tan.
We spent the weekend as most holiday makers do. Lying all day in the sun, getting slowly pickled on beer and mojitos. Going out for dinner in the evening, a bar crawl, more beer, cocktails, tequila shots etc. Then bright and early on Monday morning we set off to view our first possible home. And it was a belter. The inside space was much as we expected having stayed in countless bungalows over the years. It was small, with a tiny kitchen, a very narrow living room which was totally unacceptable for the 65 inch TV we were shipping over. It had two small bedrooms and the usual bathroom with shower. Much as we expected. The outside space however, was spectacular.
One of the main reasons for the move to Gran Canaria was the weather and the outdoor lifestyle, so the most important factor in choosing a bungalow as opposed to an apartment was the outside space and this one had it in abundance. The garden was on three sides with a terrace at the front, a large lawn at the side and another terrace at the back complete with outdoor dining area, kitchen, worktops, a sink and a built in barbecue. There was also masses of storage. It really couldn't be any better. It was the first and only bungalow we had seen, however, and we had nothing to compare it to. The price was reasonable but I was wary of just jumping in and taking the first place on offer. We decided to wait and have a look around at what else was available.
It all went downhill from there...
One thing I noticed immediately about Playa del Ingles is that there are real estate offices everywhere. They are on every street corner, sometimes two or three in a row, and we registered with pretty much all of them. And heard nothing. Ten days went by with worry increasing each day. We had a shipment arriving anytime and the last thing we wanted was to have to take delivery and then move to a new place. Finally we got a call to view a bungalow in Los Porches. This was a complex we knew well and had stayed in before.
I'm not going to waste time describing it when I can do it with one word. Shitehole!
Next we were invited to view an apartment. We already knew we didn't want an apartment but we thought we'd go see it anyway. From the outside it looked like Prisoner: cell block H. It was dark and dingy with tiles falling off the walls and that 70's wood chip wallpaper. The balcony, we were told was a great feature. It was about two foot square and the view was the opposite apartments front door. You could literally use a brush handle to knock their front door. Poor show all around. Things were not looking good, but then we struck gold. Or so it seemed.
Another bungalow in Los Porches had come up and we went round immediately to see it. This was a beauty, newly renovated in a small quiet complex and ready to move in the next day. Perfect. We excitedly reached the gate where the owner was waiting. There's a problem he told us. The previous tenant had sublet the bungalow to his friends, without the owners permission. They had been there for months, paying their rent. Now the owner didn't like this at all and was quite prepared to throw them out and give the bungalow to us. He had to talk it over with his mother first. Mother was elderly and only spoke Spanish. The illegal tenants were Spanish. You see where this is going. She let them stay and once again we were on the hunt.
Finally we were put in touch with someone who knew of a bungalow that had just become available. Fortuna Bungalows No.1, which was to become our new home. We arrived early in the morning to view it and it was perfect. So perfect in fact, that there were three other hopefuls waiting to view it after us. It had a large living room, perfect for the TV. A small kitchen and two decent sized bedrooms. There was a front terrace, a back terrace and a side garden. But better still was the spiral staircase leading up to the roof terrace. A massive space with sun loungers and a barbecue. It was beautiful. Only eight bungalows in the complex surrounding a communal pool and communal barbecue. All the other bungalows were residential so no pesky tourists to deal with. It couldn't have been better. Conscious of the other hopefuls waiting outside we signed on the dotted line and the place was ours. First order of business, claim it as a new territory of Scotland. Up went the Saltire and then we were home.
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