Episode 30: The serious one

So, after the news of the last blog, I thought I would take a little time to explain the situation we're in so that you can all see what's been happening in our little world. I know I don't have to explain myself to you lot, but it's sort of cathartic, so I'm going to unburden myself and if you don't want to read something a little more serious than usual, bugger off!!

Since we arrived on these shores in July last year, all we've heard from people here in Spain at every available moment is "estamos en crisis" (we are in crisis). It's like a mantra chanted by anyone and everyone and when I say that, I do mean it. I'm not exaggerating........am I lovely Belinda?

"estamos en crisis", apparently. Just some of the many signs around

The interesting juxtaposition with the UK is that each time we've come back, apart from David Cameron being more of a moron and Nick Clegg dancing to any tune just to stay in Government, nothing has really changed that much to the casual observer. Of course things have changed; people are cutting back and there is a sense of how awful it all is, but like true Brits, we just get on with it and butter some more scones. Here in Spain they like a drama, although sadly not on the TV where the daily diet of people shouting at one another on TV shows just gets exponentially worse as the recession deepens.

The British way of coping

Anyway, we set up the school last year. We managed to negotiate a discount on the rent, because with this country being in the grip of a tightening recession, people were desperate to rent and we had the market on our side. We populated the place with desks and other goo-gaws and then went into full advertising mode. Eventually this paid off with more and more people coming to us every month. It got exciting and we met some really wonderful students, some of whom may be reading this as I like them so much, I befriended them on Facebook (hi guys!). Don't worry, we all know how much they will regret it when I start stalking them, but say nothing for the time being. They still like me!

We used an online company called "Let's Bonus", that I've mentioned before. Basically, we offer a month at a heavily discounted rate in the hope that it would attract people to the school. They would see how wonderful we are and would stay, which many people did. The one downside of this is that more left than stayed, so we ended up working all hours for no massive reward. Still, the more of these promo's we ran, the more people DID stay and we gradually increased our numbers.

Due to the tax laws in this country, we had to move out of my in-laws and into our own place, otherwise the country would reduce José's parents' pension as they would see that there were people living with them who were paying tax and who could look after them. The truth of the matter is that the very first month we made a profit, we had to find a flat and pay the deposit, which soaked up everything we made and more. So we were back to only just covering our bills.

At this juncture, so many people were asking us about helping them with things like CV's and interviews. Added to this, so many young people in Spain were planning on moving to English speaking countries to try and get a job, as there's nothing here. Spain has the highest level of youth unemployment in the whole of Europe at over 50%.  We consequently created a one day seminar for such a thing, priced it very cheaply and advertised it across the whole of Galicia in the most popular Sunday newspaper, expecting that we would get at least 20 or 30 expressions of interest. We received not one single email or phone call about it after we spent a small fortune advertising it. The advert had been placed in a terrible spot in the newspaper, so José called our contact guy there and expressed our unhappiness in the hope that they would re-run it for free. No-one was more surprised than us when they did and this time, they put it in a far more prominent position, so we sat back and waited for the emails to flood in. None came. I can't tell you how miserable we both felt that week. We were sure that we had a winner with this one and that the money we made from these seminars would cover us through the summer months, when students tail off.

Two or three months of this passed and of course, we started to lose students as the summer months approached. This is natural here in Spain as people tend to shut down during the summer (not that you would notice much difference to the customer service in the winter, but there you have it). Interestingly though, we found other students who wanted to come for a short time and so we continued to make just enough money until the end of July when we closed for a month. 

Wonder what they got up to
in summer?!

This month's closure bothered both of us, as we still had to find rent on the school and the flat but we weren't bringing in any money. No-one studies in August and those who do only do so because they really have to, which means that many schools close down for the month as there isn't the business. Those who do stay open often only do so for part of the day, just to give you a flavour of the hours that are kept here and why we made the decision to close. And yes, it was also because as there was only the two of us running the school and we were working 12 hours a day, 5 days a week, we were more exhausted than a prostitute in the whorehouse January sale. Still, many of the people who left us for the summer holidays told us that they would definitely be back in September or October without a doubt, so while we knew we would never be millionaires in this place, we went on holiday knowing that we were planning new things for the next year and that we should have enough people coming back to keep us going whilst we attracted new students.

Well, we worked hard during the first couple of weeks of the holiday, planning and arranging the new courses. We had our hearts set on an Immersion Weekend, which is where students go and speak their second language from Friday evening until Sunday lunchtime when we would all go our separate ways. 

We stayed home and ate scones instead

We had expressions of interest from 4 or 5 people and were quietly confident that we could attract around 8 or 10 in total. We priced ourselves much lower than all the other courses around ("estamos en crisis", remember!) although there was no other competition here in Galicia that we found. Our website was updated, posters printed, flyers were sent out and another advert in the Sunday newspaper was placed but the silence was deafening. Even the previous expressions of interest all dropped out, making one excuse after another.

Then the new academic year started and we were back to work with about a quarter of the students we had when we finished in July. Quiet optimism eventually led to loud screaming despair as most of our previous students never (re)darkened our door, until one day, out of the blue, José put his serious face on and asked me if we should go back to the UK. It was an odd question when it came. Well, not really an odd question, but odd in the way it made me feel. I wanted to shout a resounding "YES!" as loud as I could but I really wasn't sure when push came to shove that was what I wanted. We both missed England a lot but those feelings had settled a great deal and we were getting on with living a different life out here. 
We both liked working for ourselves, as challenging as it could be at times but we both missed having a life. We've managed for the past year and were planning on at least another two with no discernible social life to speak of, but this time, the numbers just didn't add up. September was going to leave us with a shortfall and at the end of October, we would be losing our nurses group as they were coming to the end of their course. Unless we could recruit about 40 more people in a week, we would continue losing money. And so, we made the decision to come home.

I feel sad typing that, yet I also feel happy; so this is how a bipolar disorder feels!! We'd moved into a lovely flat and I do love living here. I've made some new friends and I'm no longer working for the NHS, all positives in my life. José naturally loves being five minutes down the road from his parents and he too likes the freedom we have working for ourselves.......although two years ago I wouldn't have called a 60 hour week 'freedom'. Yet it is. It's our business and we can do what we damn well like without anyone else coming up with crap reasoning to take on more work with less staff etc etc etc. You've all been there!

Other creams are available

Yet, I miss speaking English and being able to arrange things. My mantra to José is "can you just ring this person and say blah blah blah about blah blah blah", because my speaking skills are not what I need them to be. I miss English TV, English chemists where you have a choice of what verruca cream you buy, English bread shops with proper malted bread and English roads where, compared to here, the drivers all drive like the Amish. 

Of course, there was no reason for me to open up my soul and tell you all of that, but I wanted to. We don't want pitying looks when we come back and we don't want people wondering why we never gave it more than just a year. We would have if we could have, but the strength of the recession here is biting more than we ever realised it would. Some people don't have money and those who do are keeping it by them in case they need it in the near future and the way things are going here, there's every possibility they might.

This blog is dedicated to all the lovely people we have met over the past year, particularly those who came back this term and those who would have come back if they hadn't already left the country. Thank you from the lovely José and myself.

Episode 29: I am not Spinach

I can't begin to tell you how much José and I miss the UK. It's not just the fact that everyone speaks a language we both understand (although the jury is still out on Brummie!), but we miss the simpler things in life that you can't get here, like BOGOF offers in the supermarket or old people smelling of urine. And no, for a country rich in vineyards they don't smell of urine here, but wine. It's just as unpleasant but somehow, not the same.

Bloody ham and sodding cheese.
Kill me now!!!

When we were over in August, we marvelled at the things we used to take for granted when we lived there before: 

• sandwiches that weren't just ham and cheese
• sandwiches that had spread or butter in them and weren't just dried bread & filling
• sandwiches that you could buy in supermarkets and specialist sandwich shops, many of which looked edible, rather than those sitting dried up in some long forgotten bar covered in flies.

In fact, sandwiches in general got the thumbs up from me and the lovely José. It's amazing what you miss when you no longer have it, as I believe a famous Pope once said.

Stop it. Immediately!

I'm going to put on my serious voice now, so please stop clipping your nails at the same time you're reading this and listen, as you'll need to read this next bit very carefully. José and I have missed sandwiches so very much, that we have decided to come back to the UK to live and are closing the school here in Spain at the end of October. There, I've said it.

When we came to Spain, we didn't realise how important sandwiches were in our lives. Just being able to walk into Marks and Spencer and 5 minutes later be able to walk out with a coronation chicken triple decker, crisps and a bottle of coke meant the world to us. And it wasn't just sandwiches included in this emotional turmoil, but tortilla wraps and big baps too. 

Just looking at this picture makes me want to cry real man tears

Where M&S led, Sainsburys and Tesco followed suit, followed by Asda and then Lidl's 'Come-and-get-it-before-it-goes-off' lunchtime menu, consisting of a Spam butty, with goat & herb flavoured crisps, washed down with a bottle of Ukrainian fizzy pop.

Well, Lidl need to use up their stocks somehow.

I think I'm in love

José and I can no longer live like this. We've spent hundreds of pounds importing Mothers Pride and corned beef to Spain, only to find out at 11 o'clock at night that we'd run out of Branston Pickle and couldn't buy any from anywhere in this place that shopping forgot. That's not to mention the total lack of pickled onions. Yes, they do those little silverskin ones, but they are so fey and weak compared to their big butch cousins that make you fart like a racehorse. And so, gentle readers, the dream became a nightmare and we came to the conclusion that we were left with no option but to return to that Green and Pleasant Land we call England. England, home of the baguette and brie so beloved by us both and where we can swap the healthy green grapes option with a Kit-Kat in Tesco's Meal Deal and no-one cares.

Oh yes, and Spain is in a massive, humungous recession/depression at the moment and we weren't able to attract enough customers to sustain the school.

See you in Waitrose for the Christmas shopping!!

xx