“To rent” signs dot apartment building faces and bougainvillea plants fragrantly engulf the front gates of homes. Cats trot alone along sidewalks and squeeze through holes in crumbling rock walls. Seeing a car parked on these empty roads seems inconsistent with the “ghost town” feel. The same goes for the occasional child peddling into sight on his tricycle, coming from around a corner and just as quickly zipping back, out of sight.
The population of the Puerto de Mazarrón, the port town on the Mediterranean coast of Spain which I am happily calling home this year, changes drastically from the summer months to the winter months. With about 10,000 or so year-round residents, the center of the port remains lively enough regardless of the time of year. Walk several blocks away from the hub of town, however, and you'll be greeted with nearly empty streets. “To rent” signs dot apartment building faces and bougainvillea plants fragrantly engulf the front gates of homes. Cats trot alone along sidewalks and squeeze through holes in crumbling rock walls. Seeing a car parked on these empty roads seems inconsistent with the “ghost town” feel. The same goes for the occasional child peddling into sight on his tricycle, coming from around a corner and just as quickly zipping back, out of sight. But make your way back toward the main streets of the port and very soon there are more children playing, scooters zooming, bakeries tempting you with olores de pan, women going to work in the greenhouses, TVs outside of cafés streaming today's soccer game, fishing boats making their way into and out of the port past the lighthouse, waiters serving marinera tapas with cañas, and all the good signs of a living community. I know the Puerto de Mazarrón is far from a ghost town because of the constant buzz of life below my apartment window can attest to that, but the empty summer houses along the coast attest to something more, something quieter. The economy isn't booming in this town, nor is it in this country where just this past Wednesday, November 14th another General Strike (“Huelga General”) took place during which thousands of people sacrificed their daily wages to go to the streets in demand for more equitable government spending and cutting. Maybe these homes are a sign of a falling economy. Or maybe they're a sign of the port town's fading heyday as a place to live. Or maybe they are just waiting for summer. I don't know if the homes are just temporarily empty or forever abandoned, but I like it that way. This unknown is eery and magical and I love it.
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yes blog is currently 'archived'yes blog started when I moved from the States to Spain in 2012 and documented the results of saying 'yes' - to the people and learning opportunities - that came my way. Archives
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