ON those rare occasions when I meet some of the other golden oldies like myself often the conversation comes up that the new arrivals are just not as interesting as in the past.
‘Boring folk are coming to live here’ is the warning bantered about politely.
Really, nothing could be further from the truth. You see, it is us, those rare folk that consider themselves a tad more clever than the new arrivals – simply for having survived here longer.
Worse yet, our circles of influence and recognition has diminished so substantially that we are in fact, not meeting or getting to know and learn about the newcomers.
There has just been so many of them, spread out over a staccato attendance.
Maybe we should have them wear green arm bands or silly pledge hats so we can spot them easier.
You know, to separate them from the itinerant tourist that is just passing through and we won’t see again for three to five years, whereas those new members of our tribe need to be noted or somehow distinguished so we may get to know them better and offer direct assistance to get them settled in and enjoying our local life style magic.
My personal biggest quibble with new ones is they don’t read enough. There is a boat load of information concerning every topic pertinent to living here right in this paper.
Cover to cover it’s a damn good read with advice on doggies, gardening, psychological dilemmas and what’s going on and where.
Within two to three editions they could improve their mental aptitudes some 800 per cent more than what they knew before about residency in this corner of Spain.
That, and talking with others that reside here and they see consistently.
Somehow, that traditional English reluctance to not intrude must be overcome.
It might be considered an English urban myth, but once there was a report of a United Nations plane going down somewhere in the Pacific.
It was an unusual flight in that its passengers were from 180 different countries. They glided to a safe landing on a remote but fruitful island that had all the complements for sustaining life if not thriving.
The American started to parcel off the island and sell plots of land. Whereas the Irishman opened a pub providing fermented coconut juice.
The Belgians adjudicated the entire set up while the Indonesians became personal helpers and cooks.
Two years later when rescued the ship’s captain was most amazed to see how enterprising they all had become in helping the community prosper.
All except the Englishman who lived by himself and refused to talk with the others.
Asked why he simply replied, “because he hadn’t been properly introduced to anyone.”
The good weather is again upon us and beckons for outside living and barbecues.
Invite some new folk to share your time and situation. You might be quite shocked how much authentic news and information you can gather.