Polopos. Our great eternal love.

Situated in Costa Granadina at 800 meters above sea level, the village offered a fantastic view of the Moroccan Atlas Mountains in good weather and a fantastic view of a wall of water outside the window in bad weather. And in inversion weather, a strange view of the black clouds down on the coast, while we could admire the December blossoming of the almond trees in bright sunshine. 

You will not find Polopos on every map. We asked our Spanish friends what they thought about us living there for several months. "Polopos what? Where is that?". And acquaintances from Andalusia, who were a little more familiar with the place, had no words to spare except, "Polopos? How on earth did you come up with that? There's nothing there!". The locals were wrong, and how! They didn't know how unique this area is!

Surrounded by vines, cacti, many almond, occasionally fig and mango trees, and cork plantations, Polopos offers plenty of peace, sun, rain, and virtually no tourists.

A bit about the situation on-site and the surrounding area:

Of the former 200-plus residents, about 60 people still lived there when we arrived in 2018. The last village in Spain to get an automatic telephone switchboard with its access road just recently paved, had neither a market nor a doctor's office. Needless to say, a telephone operator had also left for good. The school had also closed down for lack of children (in our time, there were three, who were taken daily by bus to the village on the coast, 20 km away). But there was a church and a bar, which served not only drinks but also tapas, actually only ham, a basketball court and a children's playground with a ping-pong table (which we discovered much too late). And there was a large herd of goats whose fleas also had a taste of us when we visited the basketball court. On the main square, some gymnastics equipment was installed. Really popular in Spain and, unfortunately, now also in Germany, we never saw anyone using it.

Food and health care were provided on a mobile basis. Every day (except Sundays) a bread truck came "punctually" at 10 a.m. with a choice of one to three types of bread (as long as supplies lasted, and if ordered, cakes and more). Twice a week, a car stopped with fresh fish. Later, a vegetable car was added weekly. Monthly a car with frozen goods, a small tractor with gas bottles and very rarely a car selling clothes. Unfortunately, we could never find out when exactly this was the case.

We wondered what the supply was like in the villages higher up. Did they have to be content with what was left further down? Did they sometimes have to make do without bread or fish?

Each of these events caused a large gathering of six to ten elderly ladies, some of whom gathered in the small square next to our house an hour beforehand to exchange the latest village news. We didn't want to miss out either, especially since our then eight-month-old daughter was always the emotional highlight of the event.

There was also a festival in which the patron saints were carried through the village. The procession was accompanied by multiple salvos of firecrackers that terrified our daughter despite her ear protectors. At least the procession ended with music, dancing and food, which put her in a good mood again.

The nearest supermarket was 20 minutes away on the coast. Run by a highly amiable Asian couple, the store had more to offer on its perhaps 50 square meters of sales area than most Tescos, and a fresh produce counter also had its place.

In and around the village, we found endless photographic possibilities. In the nearly four months on site, not a day went by that we didn't take at least a dozen pictures. Always new yet undiscovered corners with their own character and surprising perspectives that we absolutely had to capture. This place will remain in our memory as a place of peace, silence, noisy almond peeling machines, sun, torrential rain showers, cold, heat, neighborly help, neighborly quarrels and endless vistas. And last but not least, it was the place where our daughter learned to get from A to B on her own.