The British on The Costa Del Sol
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The British on The Costa Del Sol

Karen O'Reilly

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eBook - ePub

The British on The Costa Del Sol

Karen O'Reilly

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About This Book

'Brits in Spain' first achieved notoriety during the 1980s - popularly imagined as a group made up of exiled criminals, drunken hooligans and leathery looking pensioners - welcome to 'Little England'! The British on the Costa Del Sol is the very first book to study this British expatriate community in any great depth and, through use of interviews with members of this community, paints a far more complex picture of its members. In doing so the author explodes the popularly held stereotype of 'Brits in Spain'. What emerges is a rich account of who migrates, their reasons for migration and the day to day realities of expatriate life.

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Information

Publisher
Routledge
Year
2013
ISBN
9781135433802
Subtopic
Sociology
Edition
1
alt
Map 1   The Spanish mainland
Source:  Reay-Smith 1980: 19
alt
Map 2   Malaga province
Source:  Sur in English
1 Introduction
The ‘Brits in Spain’
When I first met my partner, Trevor, in 1988, he had a dream to move to Spain. He had been to the Costa del Sol on several occasions for holidays, once working there for a month, and had fallen in love with it. He took me to the area in which he hoped to settle, the Fuengirola area, and part of me could understand his desire. I too fell in love with the mountain views, Spanish fiestas and food, the warm winter sun, the holiday atmosphere, and the friendly Britons who had already settled there. After a few visits I wanted to move there too, but I had many fears and apprehensions. What would we live on? What would I find to replace my love of education and research? Would I miss my extended family and friends in England? I worried about my daughters’ education: if they went to Spanish school would they cope well enough to be able to compete in the Spanish employment market? Would they be able to transfer their skills to England at a later date? Would they be happy? However, it was not an option we could take seriously for several years since we had neither the capital nor employment in Spain to fund such a move. I began to wonder how the many Britons who lived there had overcome such obstacles.
My interest in Britons in Spain thus activated, my intellect was also challenged by reports of the way in which Britons were apparently living in Spain; reports that suggested that many were not happy there, that they had made mistakes in the planning of their settlement abroad and now wished to return to Britain; reports of elderly people feeling lost and alone; reports that Britons showed no interest in the Spanish way of life nor in learning the language. I had been to Fuengirola enough times to have met several expatriate Britons and to know them to be extremely happy with their lives in Spain, and to be in love with Spain and the Spanish people. I was aware of no loneliness, ill health or unhappiness, and of no problems related to lack of integration or to isolation. I began to wonder what was going on, that reports could vary so much from what appeared to be the truth.
During the 1980s ‘the Brits in Spain’ became a phenomenon. Newspaper journalists wrote about them, television dramas and comedies were based on them, people talked about them. The tabloid newspaper, the Sun, wrote about their antics in the sun; the Guardian reported on their successes and failures. Radio programmes were devoted to the topic. Television documentaries reported on ‘The British in Spain’. By 1992 there was a soap opera based on their experiences, which failed after only one year, but which had been expected to be a success to the extent that ten million pounds had been spent on the set. In the late 1990s the British in Spain continue to hit the headlines with the Consul in Ibiza denigrating the behaviour of his compatriots abroad, and football club managers embarrassing themselves during holidays on the Costa del Sol. But it was not only the Britons themselves who appeared to be a fascinating topic – not integrating, living lazy lives in the sun, having problems because they did not learn the language and drank too much alcohol, living like old colonials, wishing they could come home, having a wonderful time, all being old and poor, criminals or coppers – so many contradictory reports and messages were interesting in their own right. The phenomenon with which this book is concerned is therefore as much the popular representations of Britons who are living in Spain as the Britons themselves;1 and the final part of this chapter (predicting the conclusions in Chapter 7) begins to unpack these stereotypes which tell us more about those who construct them than about those they pretend to describe.
Collective representations: ‘the Brits in Spain’
In this section I examine in detail the collective representations of Britons living in Spain since they are the main relevance of this study. The phrase ‘collective representations’ is borrowed from Malcolm Crick, who borrowed it from Émile Durkheim, in order to include general, popular, non-scientific, non-analytical ideas, notions, images, assumptions and stereotypes about this group of individuals so often treated as one homogeneous group. Crick (1989: 308), writing during the early stages of the development of an anthropology of tourism, said
It may seem derogatory to speak of collective social science representations rather than analyses. I do so to raise the issue of whether we yet have a respectable, scholarly analysis of tourism, or whether the social science literature on the subject substantially blends with the emotionally charged cultural images relating to travel and tourists.
I now raise the same issue in relation to British migration to Spain, which, as a pursuit, is so bound up with the hedonism of tourism that it lacks serious attention. When I initially told colleagues of my intention to research this topic, it almost invariably provoked laughter or derisory comments such as ‘Oh, that’s a good excuse for a year in the sun.’
As was once the case with the study of tourism, ambivalence, stereotypes and sweeping generalisations surround discussion about ‘the Brits in Spain’. But, as Martin Hammersley and Paul Atkinson (1995) argue, there is no reason completely to discard common-sense knowledge about the world, just as there is little justification for treating it as unquestioningly valid ‘in its own terms’. This common-sense knowledge should be worked with and examined in the light of new information. It is not possible to examine a phenomenon objectively until we face our preconceptions head on. Similarly, such common-sense knowledge is part of the world in which those studied construct their meanings and their reactions to the researcher. They shaped the assumed ‘questions’ which people were ‘answering’ when telling me about their lives, because they are what ‘everybody knows’ without thinking (see Spradley 1980). For this piece of research, these representations were all I ‘knew’ about the phenomenon under study before I studied it and, as such, are part of the research setting.
The British in Spain were, at the outset of my research in 1993, a phenomenon which had for some time been attracting the attention of the mass media and the general public, but not yet the academic community. Everyone I knew had something to say – an opinion to express, a question to ask, an assumption to challenge – about the British on the Costa del Sol and, of course, other coastal areas of Spain. Much of it was denigratory, but at times the comments seemed tinged with envy. Most thought the phenomenon would make a fascinating research topic. Many saw the behaviour and attitudes of the expatriates in terms of a problem; it is assumed they do not integrate, do not learn the language, spend too much time doing nothing and drink too much. It was implied that they don’t take any interest in Spain or the Spanish way of life, that they spend most of their time in British bars, and that they buy British goods wherever possible. ‘They have practically colonised the place, haven’t they?’ one woman asked. ‘You should do some undercover work for the police while you are there’, suggested a man who assumed that many of the British in the area are ex-criminals. ‘It’s one long round of beach parties and cocktail parties; I couldn’t stand it for long’, reported a woman whose friend lives in the Costa del Sol. One source of these images is experience; many British people have either taken a holiday in a Spanish resort themselves or know someone who has. Several know someone, a friend or relative, who has retired to Spain. Many of their opinions and assumptions have been formed partially from their own experiences and partially from talking to other people. However, this is a rather minor source; more important influences of popular representations are the media and literature.
The Britons who ‘retired’ to Spain had, by the early 1990s, appeared on our television screens in documentaries, holiday programmes, dramas, comedies, and soap operas, and in a range of newspaper reports and articles. A soap opera was launched on British television at this time: a soap opera which has now become famous for its huge costs and its failure more than for its content. Eldorado (a name which once conjured images of a golden, fantasy world) ran from June 1992 to July 1993. It was set in the Costa del Sol and depicted a British community of people who spent most of their time in each other’s company, speaking little or no Spanish, drinking, socialising, and eating British food. The programme featured an ex (but still active) criminal, a suffering alcoholic, British bar owners, and a rather untalented entertainer amongst its migrant Britons. It was set in a complex of houses, shops, bars and a beach, apparently isolated from the rest of Spain.
In July 1992 Channel Four presented a two-part documentary titled Coast of Dreams, which was shown again in August 1994 (Touch Productions 1992). The programme reported on the experiences of British expatriates living in southern Spain. Both young and older couples were seen to be moving to Spain in search of their dreams. Newcomers to Spain appeared hopeful, excited, happy; they believed they had found the answer to life. More settled Britons appeared quite satisfied with the move and were aware of the envy of friends and relatives back home; but the younger ones, running bars in Spain, were having to work very hard and were not making their fortunes. They saw little of the sun and the beach and had little time for each other in their new lifestyles. Women, especially, seemed dissatisfied and disappointed. Older expatriates were depicted in the documentary as living alongside other migrants, knowing little of the Spanish way of life, language or culture, and not wanting to know more, and spending their days drinking and socialising. An interpreter from a local hospital talked of the way the British residents in Spain live in their little communities, dependent on each other for company and support, not speaking any Spanish and experiencing huge difficulties when faced with hospitalisation or illness. ‘They forget when they come here that they will get older, that a partner may die and they will be left alone, that they may want to go home but they can’t because they have sold everything there’, she explained. A Spanish doctor spoke of the terrible problems these people have with alcoholism and liver disease: ‘They live in ghettos, they have no idea of Spanish life, they just visit each other, and drink.’ The programme also focused a little on the British tourists, who merely wanted a ‘Blackpool in the sun’; everything that Britain can offer plus the sunshine. Little distinction was made between this attitude and that of the expatriates: ‘They come here, they want to make their own little England in Spain’, reported a Spanish woman. Retired Britons were shown socialising together, some speaking in crisp English accents, drinking gin and tonic, while Britons who had bought bars in Spain were shown spending time with tourists, enjoying the holiday atmosphere, the wine and the beer, and good English food. The two programmes together shared a general theme, depicting the difference between dreams and reality. They were individually titled: ‘Paradise in the Sun’ and ‘Paradise Lost’, and featured, simultaneously, the growth and decline of tourism, the development and subsequent disfigurement of the Costa del Sol, and the settling and unsettling of British expatriates. For the producers of these programmes these were clearly meant to be interpreted as associated concepts.
The British expatriates in Spain, and especially in the Fuengirola area of the Costa del Sol, have often featured in newspaper reports in Britain. The area has variously been labelled Costa del Bonk, Costa del Crime and Costa del Cop, by the Sun newspaper. Reports once focused on the number of criminals and, later, ex-policemen who live in the area. One report told how the bar owned by the famous bank robber Ronnie Knight, the criminal, is frequented by an ex-policeman, the cop, who once worked on his case. Some newspaper reports portrayed the British expatriates in southern Spain as better-off rebels who had chosen an escapist life in the sun. They were said to be living colonial lifestyles: ‘First came the hardened expats, the colonials 
 They liked the look of Spain’s sunshine coast: hot, relaxed, cheap, giveaway booze, close to the banks and shops and other home comforts of Gibraltar’, reported the Guardian (Crampton 1993). Later ‘news’ depicts the British in the coastal areas living in ghettos, speaking very little or no Spanish, watching satellite television, shopping in Gibraltar for British goods, and drinking too much alcohol. In the Independent on Sunday, Ian MacKinnon (1993) described Britons living in ghettos, speaking no Spanish, buying fish and chips and British beer, and having little to do with the Spanish. John Hooper, in the Guardian (1993), said that ‘the real-life inhabitants of Eldorado are forced to depend on satellite television for their home entertainment’ since the guy who used to sell pirate video tapes has been caught; and Sarah Boseley reported in the Guardian on the same day that the expats ‘have colonised the coast so much that the shops now sell Oxo cubes and British meat’.
Two reports which were published at around the same time, from Help The Aged (Mullan 1992) and Age Concern (1993), focused on the health and financial problems experienced by some elderly expatriates living in the coastal areas of Spain. At the time of the reports the peseta was strong against the pound, effectively devaluing British pensions and savings held in sterling accounts: ‘Times are particularly hard for those people surviving on basic pensions’, the Age Concern report argued (1993: 6). These reports were concerned that those who had moved to Spain several years ago were now older and possibly in worse health. They had discovered that the Spanish health service was lacking in home care and nursing provision, the system traditionally depending to a great extent on the family in times of need. With the British government refusing to pay supplementary or hardship benefits to expatriates, some were struggling to cope. The reports suggested these problems are exacerbated by factors such as the language barrier, isolation, loneliness and boredom. Newspaper journalism reflected and exaggerated these reports. Headlines appeared such as, in the Daily Mail, ‘Life in the sun is not so hot for elderly’ (Fletcher 1994) and, in the Times Magazine, ‘Costa del Sunset’ (Crampton 1993). The accompanying reports portrayed an elderly population for whom the dream of retirement in Spain had become a nightmare. ‘If it weren’t for the sun we’d go home tomorrow’, agreed one elderly couple of whom the journalist said:
They do not speak Spanish and have had endless trials with local bureaucracy. They miss their seven grandchildren. They have been shocked by the cost of living. The interest on their savings from the sale of their house has fallen. The fall in the value of the pound 
 [has] hit their pensions hard. And, worst of all, their flat is not worth what they paid for it.
(Crampton 1993)
Furthermore, the expatriates themselves are implicitly to blame for their problems (see Skypala 1988); it is suggested that they did not ‘go in with their eyes open’ (Beard 1994) or that they ‘fail to realise that a life in the sun cannot make up for illness, disability, bereavement and isolation’ (Fletcher 1994). While newspaper reports focused on hard-up and unhealthy older expatriates, books written for people intending to visit or move to Spain’s Costa del Sol warned readers to ‘beware criminal Britons lying in wait for unsuspecting newcomers’ (Hampshire 1995); and to avoid the pitfalls experienced by older, isolated and lonely Britons who thought life could be an extended holiday (Baird 1995; Fodor’s Spain 1994; Voase 1995).
Reports about ‘the Brits in Spain’ continue to appear in our national newspapers and on our television screens, though perhaps with less frequency now than in the early 1990s. Nevertheless, the image remains of either upper-class, colonial style, or lower-class, mass-tourist style expatriates searching for paradise, living an extended holiday in ghetto-like complexes, participating minimally in local life or culture, refusing to learn the language of their hosts, and generally re-creating an England in the sun. The images may not be unitary but combine to construct a phenomenon with the above images and stereotype. Channel Five, for example, has been running a docusoap called Viva España, which features British expatriates living and working in Fuengirola. Radio One held its 1999 road show in Ibiza, where the Consul has expressed shame at the behaviour of his fellow nationals and where the entire European party scene now seems to be located. Occasional stories are told of wealthy celebrities living in the Marbella area, the California of Europe, while Costa del Sol criminals are still caught from time to time, and reported in the press.
Academic researchers, on the other hand, had shown little interest in this new migration trend, certainly by the early 1990s. Some academics had written on the topic as it impinges on or articulates with other issues such as ageing (Victor 1987), British home-owning in France (Buller and Hoggart 1994) and European migration (King and Rybaczuk 1993; Misiti et al. 1995). Others had begun to identify British migration to Spain as part of a larger and interesting phenomenon worthy of serious research; a phenomenon they labelled European International Retirement Migration (IRM) (Warnes 1991; Champion and King 1993). But the hypotheses, assumptions and conclusions made by academics prior to systematic research both mirrored and consolidated the collective representations addressed above to become part of the body of ‘knowledge’ about Britons resident in Spain. Prior to his team’s research on IRM, Anthony Warnes (1991) drew on ‘casual observation, impressionistic newspaper, radio and television accounts, and personal contacts’ and on inferences made from studies of retirement migrati...

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