When I stopped working in the Netherlands years ago, I was tired. Exhausted and tired. I had studied and ended up in all kinds of positions that were financially rewarding but always had a counterbalance. Heavier responsibilities, deadlines, making and adjusting policy and I had work weeks where 70 hours was more the rule than the exception. I was ultimately responsible, so I was accountable for all kinds of things that did not go well or needed adjustment. That is how it is in Northern Europe, you are made responsible for results, you are rewarded accordingly and that includes another house, another car and all kinds of expressions of acquired status. Everyone finds that normal, it is even a great good, always more and better.
What you do not realize because such 'improvements' are gradual is that you surrender well-being for prosperity and ultimately you erode yourself. That your values and standards fade and that you become convinced that you are right, always, because that is also the case in your daily life, your working life. I have been lucky enough to find myself again, not by acquiring more prestige, but simply by becoming one of the farmers in the south of Spain. I had ended up in an Andalusian village where traditions, values and norms had not faded. Where friendships and family ties are the most important and where you work when necessary.
The village and well-being are the most important here, if you are a farmer you count, if you have no land then people shake their heads in pity and feel sorry for you. Because automatically you end up in the class of people who have studied and are 'hombres de oficina'. 'How can you be happy if you can't even grow your own vegetables, or harvest your fruit or take care of your animals and where you walk across the land at first light and see how the dew drops still stick to the leaves?' How can you be happy if you think that your happiness lies in the fact that you earn more than your colleague, or have a better desk? Let the village find its way, we know who the real people are and we know who sticks around with all kinds of services to also get a piece of the pie.
It was refreshing, it was back to the egg, to the origin! It took me a while to disconnect from all kinds of imposed and learned values. I have become Andalusian. I see my friends with joy, I enjoy my family. I have not buried myself in the village, I have simply become one of them. Walking along my vineyards with my heel over my shoulder. Feeling the pleasure when newly planted vines take root, those kinds of important things. First coffee in the village at first light where everyone greets each other. Those kinds of important things.
Andalusia, beautifully beautiful Andalusia, where time has stood still. Where respect for each other is paramount. Where people say what they think and do not mislead each other with all kinds of complicated detours. Andalusia with its white villages, its men and women of honor, that Andalusia. I became part of it. They let me in and closed me in their hearts and my life has never been the same, about that Andalusia I want to write and the result is before you. Andalusia in my mind, Andalusia in my heart and remember that when the river flows, fish will appear!
San Daniel 2025
