“What is it with all the fancy gates?” I ask from the back seat of the moving Ford.
It’s the summer of 2006, and Sue and I are visiting Extremadura for just the second time. On this occasion we’re using the services of a property agent, perhaps promoting the status of our moving to Spain from crazy dream to just crazy.
“Gates?” He looks questioningly at me via the rear view mirror.
I point out that nearly every rural property we pass has an impressive entrance – stone or stucco pillars, intricate wrought iron gates and so on – but the buildings inside are usually modest, often unfinished or even non-existent.