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Last night Big Jim and I had a fabulous meal at Chez Spice. Big Jim had the chicken madras (which of course Big Jim didn't think was worthy of its "three chili pepper" heat rating because it didn't make him break out in a sweat---Big Jim's measure of a "proper" curry) and I had a mixed tandoori grill, which attracted the owners' scruff pup Sully to my side, in full beg mode. Felt like I was at home. After our stomachs were stretched to near maximum, we decided to also give our legs a stretch and have a little walk around Canillas. Even though Canillas is but three miles from our village, we haven't really explored it properly. We found a farmer sitting by one of the watering fountains as his horse had a drink and a tiny long-haired chihuahua chased a cat twice his size. Canillas also still has a public lavanderia or laundromat. I'm not talking about the kind with the rows of washing machines and dryers. No, this is an open-air building with rows of deep stone sinks with built-in washing boards. We have the exact sink in our washroom, but Big Jim just uses it to water the plants on our roof terrace. Many older women in Canillas still wash their clothes this way. Unfortunately, many of these old-world features of the village are being overshadowed by the blocks of flats being built around it. The same is true in our village. At the edge of town, where the goat track begins, there are plans to build a 68-unit apartment building. But we have no one to blame but ourselves. The presence of so many expats, and their money, has driven the real estate prices through the roof. The average townhouse is going for 120,000 to 180,000 euros (for Americans, to convert to dollars add 20%). Villas and fincas in the campo start at 250,000 euros. There is a large townhouse on the main square for sale in our village, with an asking price of 650,000 euros. These figures have tripled since Big Jim and I came looking for property less than four years ago. Obviously, many investors have benefitted greatly from this boom, but with average salaries of less than 20,000 euros a year, young singles and families have no way of affording such pricy housing. Hence, the need for blocks of flats. One of the cold hard facts Big Jim and I have had to face is that we may no longer be able to afford buying our dream place in the campo around the village. The once open farmland is now being carved into platforms for an endless sea of white luxury villas. We are now looking at areas a bit more upcountry, where old cortijos (farmhouses) and land (to stave off developers from our doorstep) are more in our target range. We are not averse to rehabing an old place slowly or adding rooms as we need them. If anything we have learned in the past few years is patience. One of our friends was housesitting for a woman a little while ago, and he invited us to see her house. She lived in a two-room original farmhouse in the campo. It was rustic and not exactly posh. The kitchen, except for the stove, was outside in the aire libre, as was her "bathroom". The toilet consisted of a bucket with a garbage bag inside for easy disposal, and her shower was a garden hose fitted with a small showerhead. Her dining area also was outside, with a vine-covered trellis providing shade from the summer sun. The house itself, despite its simplicity, was one of the most comfortable and inviting homes I have ever seen. Inside the entrance was her stove and shelves holding her assorted plates and cookbooks. To the left was the sitting area: a couple of overstuffed upholstered chairs, small television, and more stacks of books. On the walls hung antique farm tools and paintings she had collected from the local markets. Her bedroom was on the right. Most of the space was taken up by a high bed with a feather mattress and a mosquito net above. In one corner was an old washbasin, and in the other she had a small wardrobe for her clothes. It was an austere but totally pleasant room. As Big Jim and I headed back to the village that evening, I said to him, "That's the kind of place I'd like to have. Although perhaps with a bathroom." When I now look out at the cookie-cutter villas and the massive apartment blocks, an al fresco bathroom no longer seems like such an inconvenience. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain