Author Archives: DeGroovy

We’re installing a new kitchen

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in So Much Better All the Time

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We’ve long felt that we wanted to get a new kitchen, since the one we inherited is too dark and old fashioned, not to mention the fact that it is feeling its age. Until now, however, we’ve had other priorities, like building the terraces and pool.  The sad thing about the existing kitchen is that it had a really nice granite countertop.  The cabinets are, nevertheless, a bit sad, as you can see from this photo. kitchen

A few months ago, I started musing on what we might do and briefly toyed with the idea of doing it myself.  That idea quickly got discarded when I realised how complicated the job actually is, not to mention that I’m nearly on the wrong side of 60. So, I found a very nice kitchen designer named Tomeu at Cuines Tramuntana in Palafrugell  (http://cuinestramuntana.com).  Tomeu speaks English nearly as well as I do, which makes discussing the nitty-gritty of kitchen design very easy.  He came up with this design, which makes much better use of space and is so much cleaner: Perspectiva%20definitiva Here’s a photo of the new granite, which is much lighter than the old: M2061M-1014

The kitchen will be installed at the end of February.  I’ll post some photos when it’s done.

Where Banks are as Warm as the Beaches

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in Quirkiness

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I wrote this article back when I was a columnist for Scotland on Sunday, shortly after we bought Casa Buenavista.  Given what we now know about the dodgy loans made to people who wanted a holiday home in the sun, I suppose we can say that Spanish banks were perhaps too warm back then.  But the article still does provide an interesting glimpse of Begur’s quirkiness and my own experience as a buyer.

Where banks are as warm as the beaches

LAST year, an astonishing 60% of the homes sold on the Spanish coast were bought by the British. More than one million British people now own property in Spain. This week I joined their swelling (and sweating) ranks.

Many would argue that the presence of a million British homeowners in Spain is reason enough to avoid the place. Granted, vast stretches of the coast have been ruined by the British. But I’ve managed to find a piece of paradise where hardly anyone speaks English and no, I’m not going to tell you where.

Friends have reacted with a mixture of envy and concern. They inevitably ask: “Have the Spanish proved difficult?” This reveals a common cultural prejudice, namely that hot weather supposedly breeds corruption. The British assume that while the UK might not be blessed with a good climate, it at least has honest bankers.

Honest they may be, but competent they ain’t. If I’d been able to leave everything to the Spanish, the entire deal could have been completed in a fortnight. Unfortunately I was dependent on British banks to realise my dream, and they threw huge boulders in my path. A Scottish bank – that really big one – took six weeks to process a simple application, nearly scuppering the deal.

British banks seem to have forgotten that the borrower is a customer. Tellers and loan officers might be friendly, but behind them lurk an army of cyborgs, trained to render the customer submissive with mind-numbing bureaucracy.

In contrast, my Spanish bank believes the customer is king. Setting up an account takes minutes. All the literature is in English. Everything can be done online. My bank manager, Josep, approved my mortgage on the basis of a few payslips in a matter of days.

When I told him about my trouble with British banks, Josep remarked: “This I do not understand. It is not a difficult decision. You look at the house. Is it good? Si. You look at the borrower. Is he able to make the payments? Si. That should not take more than two days.”

Josep and his colleagues were also incredibly friendly. My first contact came with his assistant, Carmen, who combined professionalism with real warmth. When I signed the mortgage papers last Monday, I was delighted to find the interest rate was 1% lower than we had expected. Carmen explained: “I told Josep that we had to get a good rate for nice Mr DeGroot.”

After the deal was concluded, I found myself in Josep’s bank carrying a large bag.  “What have you been buying?”, he asked.  I told him that I’d been to the hardware store to buy some tools, including an electric drill.  “You did not have to do that”, he said.  Confused, I asked “What do you mean.”  “Well”, he replied, “I am very fond of DIY and have every tool.  You can borrow anything you want from me.”  Every once in awhile, I try to imagine a similar conversation with a British banker.  The image never quite materialises.

Granted, some aspects of the legal process were a bit frightening. There’s great ceremony to the final act of purchase, with sellers, buyers, bankers, lawyers and agents all meeting in a notary’s office to sign the deed. Since most of the process was conducted in Spanish at machine-gun speed, it felt a bit like being led blindfolded through unfamiliar countryside. Fortunately, my guides were good.

The Spanish love cash. The buyer demanded that the majority of his proceeds be paid in banknotes – apparently a reasonable request. He wanted separate amounts for each of his creditors, who were lurking in the hallways of the notario. Poor Carmen had to walk across the village with seven envelopes stuffed with cash, in total about 200,000.

One envelope contained the dinero negro, or black money. Buyer and seller agree that a portion of the price, usually about 10%, be paid in cash, so that both can avoid tax. Okay, it’s completely corrupt, but entirely above board. Even when they’re being dishonest, the Spanish do it with charm and professionalism.

The Guardian on the Costa Brava

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in What the Papers Say

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Costa Brava

The Guardian, 18 May 2002

None but the Brava

It was the first big package destination, but the Costa Brava is not all high rise and chips, says Paul Gogarty.

It was 9pm and Tamariu beach was still buzzing with children playing volleyball or running after each other into the sea. A huddle of middle-aged male Catalans flexed their mahogany bodies attempting to stiffen flagging pecs. Old friends, they prodded each other and laughed.

On the adjacent boules court, six elderly compadres were hotly contesting the final stages of their world championship. The sun was in retreat, creeping across the beach, up through the stylish huddle of three-storey white buildings that fringed the tight bay, and trailing a blaze through the precipitous pine forest.

We were sitting on a bar terrace in the prettiest of the densely pine-clad plunging coves which moved a 20th-century Catalan poet to dub this coastline “Costa Brava” – the “Rugged Coast”. Fifty yards away an 8ft-high diving board projected from the rocks above the barely breathing sea; two hours earlier we had been leaping from it with all the other kids sharing in the general Esperanto of screams and whoops.

The day had been what many go on holiday for: shuffling from café to sandy beach to boules court to beach to rocks to al fresco restaurant and back once more to the pretty beach. Now it was time to head back to our villa in the hills, five minutes’ drive away.

All day, the moon had hung in the sky. Finally, Mars arrived with a couple of early stars, a few constellations put in an appearance and soon it was a street party up there. Millions of miles beneath them, we were now enjoying a party of our own in the villa’s floodlit pool. Two families who seem to have known each other forever with no nasty personal habits left to discover: seven of us sharing the pool, the snorkelling gear, the inflatable boat, the supermarket grilled chickens and those stars.

With two weeks of summer holiday, we were able to be a little more generous with the days, squeezing in several sorties from our Tamariu base. Having two families in tow meant there was always an option: those who didn’t fancy a particular outing stuck to the beach and the villa pool.

The first excursion, for the youngest family members, was to the waterpark Aquadiver at Platja d’Aro with its licorice-twist water slides and aquatic mayhem. My wife skipped that one. The children were next abandoned as Susanna and I headed for a long lunch on the terrace of the elegant inland Mas de Torrent restaurant.

Our daughter Larne then joined us on a visit to a castle museum devoted to Salvador Dalí in the medieval village of Pubol (not to be confused with the far busier, internationally feted Teatre-Museu Dalí in more northerly Figueres). While Larne spent endless hours trying to imitate the bizarre world of the Catalan master for her GCSE art coursework, we adults enjoyed a three-course local banquet with wine for a total of £12 at the restaurant next door.

The Baix (Lower) Emporda area of Catalonia is knee-deep in medieval villages like Pubol – Fonteta, Ullastret, Palau-sator, Peratallada and Monells among them – perching on its outcrop staring over fields of wheat and sunflowers, olive groves and scattered masies (farmhouses). A local saying claims that God made the world in a week and, having perfected his art, spent the next year creating Emporda. It’s perfectly believable.

This coast, like the Catalans who inhabit it, possesses style and independence. Like the Catalans, however, you need to be discerning to discover the best of it for the Costa Brava was Britain’s first mass package-holiday destination back in the 60s and the legacy is still clearly visible from Platja d’Aro south. The area to head for is the necklace of bays strung round Begur – Calella de Palafrugell, Llafranc, Tamariu, Aiguablava and Aiguafreda. Along this stretch are villas to die for, the occasional small family-run hotel, a corniche to put all others in the shade, the wonderful Sunday market at Palafrugell, delicious Ampordan cuisine (a bizarre but heavenly mix of sea and mountains, fish and fowl, and sweet and sour which reaches its zenith in the lobster with chicken served in a chocolate sauce), and of course those incomparable bays.

A drink on the terrace of the Parador at Aiguablava followed by dinner at the lighthouse restaurant on the cliffs at Llafranc provides two of the most indelible memories and views of any holiday you’re likely to take.

The real Costa Brava starts at Calella de Palafrugell, which boasts the Cap Roig Botanic Garden and two beach fronts. The most southerly of the two is graced by traditional arcaded fishermen’s homes and elegant terraced bars. The northern beach is flanked by handsome Americanos villas (homes bought by Catalans returning from making their fortunes in South America). A sublime kilometre-long, partly shaded cliff walk leads over to the next bay, Llafranc, which has a deeper and longer sandy beach flanked by cafés, restaurants and bars.

Next up come the pine-clad bays of Tamariu, Aiguablava, Sa Tuna, Aiguafreda and Sa Riera which radiate round Begur and are the quintessential Costa Brava resorts with their small sandy beaches, whitewashed low-slung bars, and surrounding villas watching them from the hills.

At Platja de Pals, the cliffs suddenly pancake to a white sandy beach flanked by campsites. The beach is long and exposed to winds that quickly whip up the sands. It runs to L’Estartit, the most popular package resort along the northerly coast with a large marina, excellent beaches and nightlife.

L’Escala is a working town with a charming 60s seafront. The best beaches are to the north, alongside the Greco-Roman ruins of Empuries (reputedly the most important Greek ruins west of Italy).

Roses, a medium-sized resort with a fishing port and four-mile beach, is where the hills rise up again and the coast rediscovers its drama as the Pyrenees take their final plunge into the Mediterranean millpond.

Cadaques, home to Dali, is the St Tropez of the Costa Brava – an artists’ colony with a small stony beach, pretty cobbled alleys and whitewashed fishermen’s cottages.

Waking one morning and staring out from the villa balcony towards the pine-blanketed hills, my eyes finally settled on the villa pool beneath me. Scattered round it was the detritus of another successful day – the inflatable boat bobbing untended along the water like the Mary Celeste, oars, a ball, snorkels, masks, flip flops, and towels abandoned wherever they were last used by exhausted family members. It looked like a typhoon had blown through overnight and deposited the flotsam on our shore. It’s hard to imagine a better shore to be washed up on.

Our Favourite Restaurants

17 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in The Delights of Begur

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Our Favourite Restaurants in Begur

The following are our favourite restaurants in Begur. Generally speaking, it is very difficult to get a bad meal in the area — the restaurants range from very good to superb. But the following are the ones that we return to again and again:

Pizzetta: Easily our favourite. The setting, with lovely outdoor dining in a quaint courtyard, is wonderful and the atmosphere very upbeat. People come here to be happy, so don’t expect quiet dining.   Don’t be fooled by the name – this isn’t a pizza restaurant. There are pizzas on the menu, but they’re not pizzas like you’ve ever seen before. The menu runs from sushi to soup, pasta to roast pork. Be adventurous.   An added bonus about this place is it’s one of the cheapest places to eat in Begur. Try the Japanese pizza with smoked tuna flakes and get ready for a surprise. For desert, the chocolate cake for fanatics is incredible. Booking essential.

Sa Caleta: A family run restaurant located in a long vaulted room in the oldest part of the town. There’s no windows, so be prepared for something cozy. The fish is brought in from the fishmonger around the corner, which in turn comes directly from the boats in Palamos harbour, so it is as fresh as you can get. Try the incredibly imaginative salads, like the one with scallops or the one with quail stuffed with foie gras.   Be prepared: the owner tends to get a bit generous with the after dinner drinks late in the evening.

Rostei: Again, a delightful family run restaurant with the friendliest waiters in Begur. This place specialises in fish, fish and more fish, usually very simply cooked but superbly fresh. The chef does his experimentation with the specials, so pay close attention when the waiter tells you about them. We’ve had a strawberry soup and also a grilled watermelon with balsamic dressing salad. But the main attraction here is the fresh fish. Oh, that and the fact that you enter through a tiny room and then eat in the internal courtyard under a centuries-old olive tree (Well, I think it’s an olive tree – but I know it’s older than the building itself.)

Can Nasi: Be prepared for a bit of weird. The owner is a sculptor and his works are everywhere, even on the sign outside. The food can be equally avant garde, with ingredients combined in a way that you never quite imagined they could be combined. This is the place to get a genuine gourmet meal from a truly imaginative chef. The courtyard is very cozy, but it’s also worth it to eat inside and just stare at the decoration.

Sa Rascassa: This is down at the beach at Aiguafreda in the garden of an ancient hostelry. It doesn’t have a view of the beach, but that doesn’t really matter, since the setting is still so lovely. The food is imaginative and quite gourmet – try the black pasta made with squid ink. The owner is a very nice man who speaks perfect English and likes to talk about the food, so feel free to ask him about how things are cooked. Also very nice for lunch, but difficult to find a parking place during the day.

imagesCan Climent: The chef is the best in Begur, but not a very good businessman. He used to run the restaurant that is now called Turandot, on the entry into town, but went out of business, despite the fact that nearly everyone agreed it was the best and most imaginative food in town. He now runs a very small tapas restaurant up the street from the Solbank. These are tapas like you’ve never encountered before. Be adventurous.

El Bistro: This is a delightful restaurant located in Placa Forgas and run by a very nice woman named Carina, who has tried very hard to create a chic and trendy bistro. The menu is very imaginative, the atmosphere warm and the prices very reasonable.   Do please give Carina a visit because she deserves to succeed but has to compete with the restaurants closer to the central square, which is not easy.

Merci: This is easily the coolest restaurant and bar in town. Very nice for cocktails and tapas. Go and have a drink, sit in the incredible courtyard and just gaze at the amazing décor. The food is excellent and not expensive.

La Escalopa: I only include this place because some guests will have children who are fussy eaters. This is pizza, pasta, schnitzel and steaks cooked very simply. Don’t expect a great meal, but kids will love it.   The restaurant is located in the ‘mini-mall’ and not a great setting, but the average ambience and plain food is easily compensated by the proprietor, Katya, a young German women who is just about the sweetest person ever born. The children will fall in love with her.

And then, if you are willing to drive:

Tragamar: On the beach at Calella de Palafrugell. Beautiful setting, very trendy and wonderfully imaginative food. Try the Tuna Tataki – an incredible tower of seared tuna, avocado, and tomato topped with a sesame infused dressing. Best for lunch, but you must book. And be prepared: food and a setting like this does not come cheap.

Sala Gran: We discovered this on a recent trip when we were so hungry we couldn’t even make it to the house. It’s in Llofriu, just after Mont Ras, about seven or eight miles from Begur. It’s located in a huge traditional manor house which probably predates the village itself. There’s a very extensive menu, but do try the chef’s special creations – variations on traditional Catalan cuisine. My daughter had a partridge cannelloni which we all quickly judged one of the best dishes we have ever had – anywhere. I hadn’t finished my starter when I announced that Sala Gran was the best restaurant we’d been to in the Begur area. Sharon said: “Jerry, you’ve said that before!” So, I guess that’s a nice little comment on just how good the food in the area actually is.

Vicus: A superb gourmet restaurant in Pals. Don’t be fooled by the fact that it is on the rather plain main road into the town, rather than in the old centre. The meals here are among the best we have had in the Costa Brava.

Vicus: A superb gourmet restaurant in Pals. Don’t be fooled by the fact that it is on the rather plain main road into the town, rather than in the old centre. The meals here are among the best we have had in the Costa Brava.