Nuestros vecinos

Our neighbours are going to be very important to us. One of the things we liked about the building when we viewed the apartment, was that most are owner-occupiers. To us, this implied that they would care about the building and their neighbours.

We were also encouraged by the fact that we would be among regular Valencians when we were there.

OK, we’ll be bucking the owner-occupier trend by renting the place out some of the time, but we are very keen to do this responsibly, and to be a presence as much as possible. Getting to know the community is important to us.

To this end, I wrote a letter (in both English and Spanish) to our new neighbours to introduce ourselves. I put a copy in every mailbox in the lobby, thinking this would be a nice gesture, and might prevent us being perceived only as the “guiris” who had moved in on the 4^th floor.

Nobody replied, and I quickly realised that it wouldn’t be the Spanish way to reply to such a letter. Everything (particularly with friends and neighbours) is about conversation and getting together. It's about talking as much (and as quickly) as possible, as if they're going to run out of time to say all the things they have to say. If there’s a more gregarious race on earth, I’d be interested to hear about it.

So in our 2 week-long stays so far, we’ve begun to encounter the neighbours:

A very pleasant elderly-ish couple live next door. He dons a rather stylish white trilby hat when he goes out. He also sleeps on a chair in his open doorway on hot afternoons, when the breeze from the open staircase windows cools the air. Haven’t seen too much of his wife yet, but is it her that smokes in the lift? They have a sweet little dog that comes to see us when the apartment doors are left open on a hot day, so it’s a slight concern that we might lock it in our place one day when we go out. It has to be said that this is a very quiet canine neighbour, which is a bonus. Our relationship with these particular neighbours is the most developed. I’ve paid appropriate attention the dog, addressed it as “perrito” (as I don’t know its name yet) and greeted the male half of the couple a number of times, both inside the building and out. He parks himself on a seat in the street when it's cooler in the mornings. Complete with cigar, white trilby and little dog.

A good start I reckon.

In the apartment next to pleasant/little dog/possibly lift-smoking neighbours is a very old man. We’ve exchanged “buenos dias” but no more than that. He seems nice. Most elderly Spanish men seem nice, in a grumpy kind of a way. Unless they’re holding out for the asking price on an apartment.

The enigmatic Valencian "anciano".

On the other side of us, in the 4^th and last apartment on our floor, is a family with a young child. This kid has a very healthy set of lungs, but there's no noise at night-time, so this isn’t a problem, and it's just part of the apartment-living thing. We’ve managed to ring their doorbell a number of times while trying to switch on the hallway light, so we’ve had the opportunity to say “hola”. And "lo siento", obviously.

Other than these folk, we have:

• Slightly scary lady, who had serious objections to some of my delivery guys leaving the lift door open. When I apologised, she slipped effortlessly into friendly conversation about the blazing hot weather, and suggested that it probably won’t be like this in England. Damn right vecina, that’s why we’re in Valencia. She seems to be the building superintendent and cleaner rolled into one, and therefore a very important person, I kid you not.

• 40-something guy who very kindly offered to help me up 4 floors with a very large sofa the very first time we met. Fortunately, there were 2 big hombres from Corte Inglés already limbering up to do the job, but it was a very kind, typically Valencian gesture.

The Barrio. Full of regular Valencians,
and the occasional "guiri".

• 30-something lady who seemed slightly stressed and in a hurry at our first and only time of meeting. Possibly not Spanish.

• Well-dressed young teenage chap, who is clearly tasked with walking the (small) dog* at all hours of the day and night. Very polite.

• Somebody that smokes in the lift. May or may not be white trilby/little dog owner’s wife.

We seem to be blessed with a reasonably quiet building and barrio. This is unusual (and lucky) in a city that loves being noisy.

So many new relationships to build and nurture. The first community meeting I/we attend should be interesting, with my entry-level Spanish. All part of the experience.

*I think they've probably all got a small dog. I think everybody has.