Life in Spain

Spanish landlords always show their true colours in the end

Written by Louise

I was going to write a post about hunting today. And food and industrial farming, and how much my views have changed over the last year or so. But I’ll save that for tomorrow because I want to rant about Spanish landlords instead.

When I moved to this house, in October 2014, my swimming pool had been badly neglected. The owners had obviously ‘cleaned’ it by chucking in half a tub of shock chlorine, switching the pump on and running the vacuum over the bottom, but the bottom was still partly covered with some kind of white goo (best description I can think of), and the pre-filter that stops leaves and other large items getting into the pump was completely clogged with olive leaves. It was October, temperatures were dropping, and I was dealing with the stress of getting settled in a new house, so I ignored the pool until spring.

Actually, I ignored it until summer, and when it went green, I got someone in to sort it. He had an awful job clearing out the filters, and the return jets at the shallow end of the pool spewed out dirt and gunk for several days before the sand in the main filter cleared. He told me the sand looked like it needed replacing, but I’ve been caught out by paying to replace sand in pool filters before, and then being forced to move a few months later, so I left it, and nursed it through the rest of the season.

Fast forward to this summer, and the sand is completely worn out. It isn’t cleaning any dirt out of the water, and any time I vacuum the bottom, it just recirculates the dirt along with the water!

Sand should last at least 3 years, and it obviously should have been done before I moved in. So, I called my landlord and asked him to get it replaced.

His answer?

“No. The pool is your responsibility.” (Although he said it in Spanish, of course.)

I’ve been here nearly 2 years, and he and his wife had always seemed like nice people. After a few years of bad Spanish landlords, who were interested in nothing more than squeezing every last bit of money out of me, I thought I’d finally found a good one. I was clearly wrong.

So, I have to make a choice between paying someone to replace the sand, which I’d rather not do because I have other expensive things I want to spend my money on, or doing it myself. The sand itself is cheap, but it’s an unpleasant job, and made even more unpleasant when you’re doing it in July heat and full sun. Or I could just leave the pool and let it go green, I suppose. (I only use it to cool off, and I have my outdoor shower for that.) Let it go green, and leave them to deal with it when the time comes for me to move on.

I’m starting to think the universe is speaking to me, and it really is time to get back on the road again.

(Photo: The pool right at the beginning of the season, before I realised anything was wrong.)

About the author


Animal lover, asexual, blogger, cyclist, daughter, dreamer, entrepreneur, expat, optimist, procrastinator, reader, realist, rescuer, runner, sister, writer ... Hate labels? Me too. Just read my blog.

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