This is a funny story from my friend Mike, about some strange clients he had a few years ago.
I hesitated to write this as it's a negative story, and I have always tried to keep things positive. However it's an interesting story about how not to relocate abroad and is really quite funny in places, so here goes. The first thing I have to say is that the names have been changed to protect the guilty, and that there is absolutely no exaggeration in this - everything you are about to read is accurate!
I was first contacted by Donna and Tim in mid March. "We're here on holiday and we've decided we want to move here, can you help?" I arranged to visit them at the villa they were staying in and duly turned up the following day. I arrived at the villa and was introduced to the couple and two girls, one around 15 and the other about 4 years old. Donna explained to me that she had recently divorced and had received a large settlement, she and Tim were a new couple, they had enjoyed their holiday here and wanted to start a new life on the island. They were looking for a 3 or 4 bedroom villa in Puerto Del Carmen, but as she had used some of her settlement to buy furniture, they wanted an unfurnished property. I explained that there really wasn't any unfurnished property on the island, but that I did have a 4 bed villa in Carmen, with minimal furniture. I talked to them about schools for the girls, and asked what they planned to do for a living. They told me that Tim was unable to work due to a bad back, but that he received benefit in the UK, and Donna planned to do some cleaning. Neither can drive, and I pointed out that it might be difficult to secure cleaning jobs without the ability to get around.
Alarm bells did ring at this first meeting, mainly because of some of the daft questions I was being asked. For example "Do I just go to the post office to collect my benefit here?" I explained that Tim would have to find out if he could continue to claim while living abroad, and ask for the procedure from UK if he could, but that no, he couldn't simply take his book into a local post office. In summary, I found them not very bright and had some concerns about their ability to set up here.
Anyway, I arranged to take them to the property, which they immediately loved, and we returned to their villa to discuss the options. They were adamant that they wanted to take the villa on a one year contract, but I suggested six months initially to give them a chance to ensure they had made the right decision. The owner agreed to remove the fridge and quite a bit of furniture, so that Debra's newly bought goods could be shipped over. We agreed on a moving date some five weeks later, and I gave them details of a shipping company we recommend. At that point Tim decided he'd like to negotiate on the rental price, which had been set at €1400 per month. "I'm prepared to pay no more than 1000 pounds per month for this property." I explained that he was in fact paying less than 1000 pounds per month at the current exchange rate. There then followed a bizarre conversation during which I explained how exchange rates worked. It seems he had spent two weeks on the island thinking one Euro was worth One Pound. I have to confess I wondered for a moment if the whole thing had been a set up for a TV programme!
I won't bore you with the details of the money transfer and the numerous calls from them asking advice about shipping their goods. Let's now fast forward to their arrival 5 weeks later. I'd had a call from Tim to tell me that he and one daughter would arrive at 11.30PM the following Thursday and that the rest of the family would follow later. I asked him to send me a text if there was any delay. Inevitably when I arrived at the airport, the flight was delayed and I hung around with the late night duty reps for an hour or so. Imagine my surprise when the whole family walked through the gate accompanied by two young men, introduced to me as Donna's son and Tim's brother! Six people and 400 pounds worth of excess luggage! I explained that some would need to get taxis, but nobody wanted to "as they only speak Spanish". There followed a scene of total chaos, three trollies, everyone tired and talking at once, and nobody listening to me. As they flatly refused to use a taxi, I offered to do a couple of trips. Tim organised everything saying he and I would load the car with all the luggage and go to the villa where the owner was waiting. I would then return for the other five people. So we filled my (large) car to the brim and were about to set off when Donna shouted "Don't forget the chinchilla! She then explained to me that they had bought a chinchilla two days before and it had arrived on their aircraft. Feeling a little fractious by this time, I quite enjoyed telling here that she could have saved 300 pounds in airfreight charges and simply bought a chinchilla locally from Deiland. I also explained that customs was closed (it was now 1 O'clock in the morning) and that they would have to return the following day. Fortunately my diary was full so they would have to travel by taxi. So off I went with Tim. Now the villa is accessed by either 35 steps downhill or around 20 uphill as there are two entrances. I decided it would be easier for us to move the luggage down hill so parked appropriately. As we got out Tim hit me with the immortal words "Oh, sorry Mike, I should have got one of the lads to go with you, I can't lift anything." I gritted my teeth and tried a descent, but the weight of even the lightest case made going down steps impossible. I reparked the car, and then carried all 11 cases up the stairs while Tim chatted amiably with his new landlady. Despite driving back to the airport with full airconditioning all the way, I still arrived drenched in sweat for the others to be greeted with a cheery "Had a swim then Mike?" The teeth gritting was beginning to hurt my jaw.
Piling the other members of the family aboard, Donna's older son's first words to me were "I'm a gay porn star!" As I spluttered to find a suitable reply, Donna proudly told me he had posed naked for some gay magazines. Regaining my composure, I told them that there was a thriving gay scene on the island. I guess it takes all sorts, but if I tell you that said porn star is about 5 feet seven, skinny and more than a little spotty, you too may wonder at the quality of the publications. Think Jimmy Sommerville circa 1988 with terminal acne!
By 2 am, they had all been dropped off and I was on my way home. The phone rang and Tim shouted "We've left a suitcase behind it's the one with the bedding in it." I looked across to the airport as I sped along the road and told a huge lie "I'm sorry Tim, but I'm nowhere near the airport, you'll have to pick it up tomorrow when you get the chinchilla." After promising that I would personally pay for bedding should the Guardia blow up the suitcase, I switched my phone off and headed home. I turned on the radio, and ominously the local station was playing The Road to Hell!
I woke up the next morning aching all over, but happy that I had more than earned my fee and that another family had been successfully brought over by our company. I rewarded myself with a morning scuba dive and returned to the car to find 7 messages from Donna:
1/ Where do we get a taxi?
2/ What is customs in Spanish?
3/ Where can I buy Chinchilla food?
4/ Can we keep cats at the villa?
5/ We need to talk to you, there's no fridge in the villa.
6/ Tim's brother has a provisional licence, where can we hire a car from?
7/ Please call.
I called them and arranged to go and see them. They had collected the chinchilla and suitcase, and had also acquired two kittens whilst buying the chinchilla food! I explained that the fridge had been removed on their instructions, but they explained that their own posessions wouldn't arrive for another two weeks. The owner arranged for the old fridge to be installed and reluctantly agreed that the cats were OK. They were astounded to learn that it was not possible to hire a car with a provisional licence, and I wasn't surprised to hear that they subsequently visited a number of car hire companies over the next few days, all of whom turned them down.
Over the next two weeks I began to hate my telephone. Calls came in from the family at all hours asking the most inane questions. The president of their community called me and asked me to talk to them about the noise they were making, and various other problems involving broken glass around the pool and late night shopping trolley races. And then I had a call from an irate neighbour one evening. "Are you responsible for putting these people here?" I reluctantly admitted I was. Now I have to tell you that this lady is, in my opinion, the worst kind of ex-pat. The type who has moved here to be among middle class British people and to live quietly whilst enjoying all the (British) comforts of home. Her biggest gripe was that Tim's brother had told her that he was a gay porn star and that this somehow endangered her family and friends, and, most importantly, affected the value of her property! I found myself in the unlikely position of both defending the family, and at the same time berating her for her intolerant attitude to gay people. She assured me that she would be talking to other owners and a lawyer. I asked her if she thought she could bring an action against someone for being gay, or for posing for gay magazines. Her retort was a classic, and preceded her slamming the phone down "I've got nothing against gay people, or noisy people, as long as they don't live anywhere near me, I suggest you find them a house in the country, away from normal folk!"
I arranged to meet the family again, and explained the community system here, and councelled them that they should avoid falling out with people as they were so new to the island. We had a good heart to heart, during which I voiced my opinion that they may have made a mistake coming here. They were adamant that they were going ahead, and would arrange schools and jobs for all. They showed me the new bikes they had bought at great cost for all the family. They were also looking forward to their belongings arriving and showed me their invoice from the freight company. The invoice was in the sum of 3000 pounds and they asked me how to pay it. I told them to go to the bank with it and ask them to make a transfer. Tim said he wanted to pay in Euros, so I suggested that he should check the exchange rates. He called later from the bank to say that he needed help - he wanted to pay 3000 euros, but the bank were asking him for more than 4000. He told me he wanted to pay in Euros as 3000 Euros was less than 3000 pounds, so he was going to save a load of money! I spent a further 20 minutes on exchange rate, but I still don't think he understood what was going on.
The following week continued in the same vein, with numerous calls asking how to do the simplest things. I answered each as patiently as I could, but I have to admit I was relieved to take a call from Tim to tell me that they had to return home as a relative was ill. I knew he was lying, and I suspect he knew that I knew. I arranged for the owner to release them from their contract, with the shipping company to return the goods (which by then were in Arrecife!) and they departed three days later. I did have one final call the night before they left, asking if I could find homes for one chinchilla, two kittens and several brand new bikes! I declined on all counts, but I did meet them at the airport the next morning to collect the house keys. They had found homes for the animals, and a lad in a local bar had taken the bikes and assured them he would sell them and send the money over to UK - I asked if they had his contact details and they weren't even sure of his name!
I was very happy to say goodbye, but driving back to the office I reviewed the lessons. For my part, this has been our only failure in a few years of helping people move here, and I have to shoulder some responsibility. I sensed that they would struggle in the beginning, but ignored those feelings with the prospect of our fee as personal justification. In future if I have similar feelings, I won't hesitate to voice them and to suggest a three month trial period without shipping anything over. For their part, the whole exercise has been hugely expensive - adding the costs of shipping freight here and back, and the flights for so many people both ways, they won't get much change out of €10,000.
In summary, if you plan a move here with some real thought and if you have a reasonable amount of common sense, together with a strong streak of self reliance, it can and will work out for you and we have hundreds of examples of people who have achieved it and are happy and successful here. But moving halfway across the world shouldn't be done on a whim and a prayer.
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