Estepona and the things I want to Know

To most people, this looks like fish drying in the sun. To me, this is what it takes to learn a new language and build a new life.

5 min read

Every year, as I watch the herrings glisten in the sun, I’m equally thrilled and disappointed.

I first saw these herrings ten years ago, strung up in huge custom-made frames in the port of Estepona. It was my first visit and I was fascinated. All I wanted was to speak to the fisherman.

The following year he was there, sitting in the sun fixing a net. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as his knotted fingers did battle with tangled strings. I had a few words of Spanish by that point but lacked courage.

So many herrings drying in the sun. Puerto de Estepona, August 2024.

To most people, this looks like a bunch of tiny fish drying in the sun. To me, this is a reminder of what it takes to learn a new language and build a new life.

I have so many questions. I want to ask him how long it takes. How long do they need to sit in the sun? Does he salt them regularly? What are the dried herrings used for? I want to know, has he always been a fisherman? Has he always lived an Estepona? How has the town changed over the years? Does he love the sea or fear it?

I also want to hear him speak. To hear his choice of words, note his manner. Will he be enthusiastic when he talks about the fish or the sea? Or will he just want the conversation to be over so he can get back to his beer and the little TV in the boatshed?

I want to know all this. But I’m scared to ask because my Spanish is still not very good.

And often I panic when I’m talking about things out of my comfort zone. It brings so much shame. I wish I could be better.

Ice on the beach. Puerto de Estepona, August 2024.

Ironically, one of the things I’m actually OK speaking about is fish. Or more accurately, buying fish.

My favourite pescadería near our old flat in Madrid was manned by an older gentleman – who I used to call ‘fishman’. And while that sounds like an insult, I actually loved Fishman.

He was kind and patient with my Spanish.

He taught me how to order my salmon fillets cut the way I like. He used to joke about how many prawns I was buying (doce usually meant I was having a good day). He gave me confidence in doing the little everyday things in Spanish. He made me feel like I was part of my new city – like it was home.

Early morning on Playa de la Rada, Estepona. August 2024

I wanted to know more about Fishman, too. I knew he worked pretty much every day of the week, except for when he went on vacation in August to his pueblo in the north. After a while, I learned his name – Andrés. But shortly afterwards the local supermarket was taken over by a big chain and rebranded, and soon after Andrés disappeared.

I have a lot of goals this year, but there are two that are really important to me. And they both involve words.

The first is to start writing my blog again. This blog. Putting words out into the world on a regular basis.

Playa de la Rada, Estepona, August 2024.

The second is to improve my Spanish. A lot of that is about confidence, and the rest is practice.

I’m returning to Estepona in July, and I’ll ask about the fish.

This summer I will speak to the fisherman.

I wonder if his name will be Andrés.