English

When I hand him our business cards, he looks at them critically. “This font is much too small,” he says sternly. I nod meekly. I know. Pascual, the local pub owner, is just as direct as the average Dutchman. “Our address is not on it either,” I answer. “I forgot.” He shakes his head. Although he is not completely satisfied with the business cards that I may have made…

“Liars! All of them. Every single one. How can they sit there?! Smiling on that bench at the end of every episode…” I can’t help but nod in affirmation when our friends (who own a hotel a few meters from ours) start ranting about the average “Ik Vertrek”-episode*. He is right. We just watched them trying to fix half their roof with a budget of €12 half an hour ago.

When I want to grab the car keys, my middle sister is holding up the shopping list right in front of me. “Where do you think we can get this…”, she asks me with a smile on her lips. “At the Aldi or the Mercadona?” I run my eyes over the list. “Lettuce, tomatoes, avocados…” I don’t see anything that stands out. It’s only when I reach the bottom of the list that I start laughing.

To say that our plan is anything but original is an understatement. We are not the first foreigners who want to start a successful Bed & Breakfast in Spain. But it is not originality we are after. In being our own boss, we hope to organize our lives more according to our own insights. With more freedom, time for each other and time to enjoy life. And all this in…

“If you would like to interview me in my position as the Head of Field Service, please let me know…” She looks at me with a straight face. Without flinching I turn my eyes back on the screen of my laptop. I’m trying not to burst out in laughter. She, too, can not suppress a smile. Because while our father can’t wait to decorate the balconies with beautiful plants…

Whoever hears us talking about Rocky, Rambo, Gerry, Scary Karel, Oscar, Leo Limoncello, Mr. Purple, Klimberley, Leopold, Stijn, Bennie, Fat Bennie, Harrie, Stoffel and Calvin, might think that we are already running a successful Bed & Breakfast. Unfortunately that’s not the case yet. On the contrary.
Giving (almost everything) a name is a habit that has gotten a little out of hand.

While the driver is handing us packages of tiles one by one, one of the pool builders just walks by with the wheelbarrow, ready to empty the debris into the container. He glances at the tile supplier and the packages that we just carefully stacked together in the hallway. “Ah so you all went shopping? Fun!”, he exclaims jokingly while swiping the sweat…

While the guys stayed behind to work on the house, the three of us got into the car and drove one hundred and seventy-five kilometers to Francisco Segarra’s showroom in Castellón. Not wanting to be late for our appointment with Hind, we left half an hour early. Unnecessary. Because when we reach our destination two hours later, we still have exactly thirty minutes…

“When are you leaving Zermatt?” “Friday evening”, I hear my sister answer two counters to my left. I repeat her words, when I am asked the exact same question a few seconds later. “Where are you traveling to?” “Spain!” My sister quickly corrects herself when she almost automatically wants to answer with ‘The Netherlands’. While the lady from the town hall and I can hear…

“There is our culprit!” My father sighs as I step into our future breakfast room. The oldest and most experienced handyman of the three shakes his head in dismay. Finishing the bar they put together in less than two days took more work than they had anticipated. “Why the hell did you want the blade to be cut at an angle?”, the second continues. I shrug.