On the property front, I felt cheated. The reality was that there were no bargains left. There are no pockets of the Spanish coastline that remain undiscovered. Anything old, anything with character or history or soul - and in my price range - had been snapped up long ago. I was simply too late and too poor.
If I was in the market for something new or within a purpose-built (or more likely half-built) resort, then I had a galaxy of choice. But I didn’t want that, and the more time I spent travelling around, my spirits and determination lifted by another golden coastline unfolding before me, my hopes were dashed at the next corner as the ubiquitous rows of cranes and developer hoardings appeared on the horizon, foretelling the destruction of my dream.
And, overall, I started to resent Spain. I couldn’t see or feel its charm. I couldn’t appreciate the language, the languages. I didn’t want to embrace its culture, its history, its beauty. I felt displaced, insecure and awkward here. This wasn’t my Eden – this was a Spanish Somme. No Man’s Land. And certainly not This Man’s Land.
But with a stiff upper lip worthy of any war-torn general, I stuck two fingers up to adversity, regrouped, refocused and resolved to carry on regardless. This time I was heading for France. La Belle France! Vive le cliché!
Why not see how far your money might go if you buy abroad? Search for your dream overseas property on aplaceinthesun.com
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Amanda Lamb is on her travels finding you the ideal location for your new house
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