Why I moved from Spain to Australia
Victoria Twead is the New York Times bestselling author of “Chickens, Mules and Two Old Fools”. After living in a remote mountain village in Spain for twelve years, Victoria and her husband Joe have retired to Australia where another joyous life chapter has begun.
I guess it was the arrival of Indy Grace, our granddaughter, that upset the apple cart. We hadn’t been homesick for England and we loved our life in Spain. We’d been there for 12 years, happily retired, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
But when Indy Grace was born in a hospital in Australia, everything changed. As much as Joe and I adored living in the little village of El Hoyo, tucked away in the Spanish mountains, our hearts yearned to be with family. We planned to spend Christmas in Sydney. After all, Indy was growing fast, and we were missing all the tiny milestones.
Then one ordinary autumn day, Joe and I had a conversation that would totally change our lives.
“You know I haven’t been feeling too great lately?”
I nodded, and took another sip from my coffee.
“I’ve been worrying about it, and I think I need to get completely checked out by doctors.”
“Oh, I agree! Let’s make an appointment for you.”
“No, Vicky. I want to get checked out in England.”
“Why? The medical system is really good here in Spain.”
“I know, but I want to be able to explain everything in my own language.”
“But we’re going on holiday to Australia! Can’t it wait until we get back?”
“This is what I think. You go to Australia, and I’ll get my health checked in the UK.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Joe was wearing his There’s-No-Point-Arguing-With-Me expression and I knew I’d be wasting my time.
So I went to Australia, and had a blissful time with Indy while poor old Joe went to get himself checked out. And the news wasn’t good. Amongst other things, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and treatment needed to begin immediately. Ignoring it was not an option; the cancer could break out and spread to other parts of the body and become untreatable.
Of course this was life-changing for us. Our time in Spain was ending.
So we decided to sell our lovely home in the Andalucian mountains. We agreed that I would put the house on the market while Joe concentrated on his recovery. When our home was sold, I’d go on ahead to Australia, near my daughter and family, and set up a new home. As soon as Joe was well enough, he would join me.
We were optimistic, but my heart beat hard in my chest. Would Joe’s treatment stop the cancer spreading? The Spanish economy had never been lower, would we be able to sell the house? Would my application for an Australian visa be successful?
So many worries.
But the wheels were in motion. After all, when you get to our age, you know that health and family are the most important things in life. Our next huge adventure was beginning.
We’d come to terms with the fact that we needed to sell our beloved Spanish mountain home, even though it was the worst possible time to sell. The Spanish economy was in chaos and the property market had crashed. We were selling our home for the same price as we had bought it for, twelve years ago, when it had been a ruin.
But health and family are more important than money, and we were determined to fight Joe’s prostate cancer and settle in Australia to be close to family and new granddaughter.
Once advertised, the house attracted plenty of interest. It was a bit of a strain keeping everything tidy, but also interesting meeting the many viewers.
“It’s a lovely house,” said one family, “but we really need five bedrooms. Yes, you can see the sea from the balcony, but we wanted to be able to walk to the beach.”
It left Joe and I wondering whether they had read the particulars at all.
“No supermarket in the village?” asked a lady viewer, her high heels clacking on the floor tiles. “You buy your produce from vans that deliver?”
“Yes,” I replied. “It’s all locally produced and very fresh.”
“But what if you run out of martini, or nibbles, or something?”
We shrugged. The lady left, never to return.
A delightful German couple walked round the house.
“You haf a beautiful haus,” said the husband. “We would like to live here very much.”
I could sense a ‘but’ coming, and sure enough, it appeared.
“But you haf no space for a horse.”
We stared at them.
“No,” Joe agreed.
“Chickens, yes,” I said at last. “But horses? No.”
Then one day, it happened. A charming couple viewed the house, and made it instantly clear that they loved everything about it. They loved the peace and quiet, they wanted to raise chickens and they didn’t care there was no supermarket or space for a horse. Next day, they made an offer, and we agreed on a price.
Then, when the deposit was paid, we cracked open a bottle of Paco’s homemade wine.
“To Australia!” said Joe, raising his glass.
“To Australia!” I echoed, and butterflies cartwheeled in my stomach.
We had taken our first big step towards our new life.
Did you move to Australia from overseas to start a better life? Share your experiences with us in the comments below.
Find more of Victoria’s work at her website here.
If you have a story to share please get in touch at melody@oversixty.com.au.
Related links:
A letter to my baby granddaughter I’ve yet to meet
How to be happy living off-grid
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