Some stories start with a single decision. Ours? It started with a feeling—a pull, a whisper in the back of my mind that had been growing for years.
I’m Marta, a dental nurse who’s spent the past two decades in England, balancing life between the rolling hills of Devon and the coastline of eastern Spain, the place where I was born. My husband, Bryan, is 50 years old, a conveyancer through and through, and the kind of man who finds comfort in routine. He’s lived his whole life in Ashburton, a small town at the foot of Dartmoor where the rain is as constant as the familiar faces in the local pub.
It’s home.
But Spain? Spain has always been home, too.
The Dream That Wouldn’t Fade
For years, we spent our summers on the Costa Blanca, soaking in the heat, the food, the way the air smells different by the sea. Every visit, I’d feel that familiar ache—the longing to stay longer, to be closer to my parents, my siblings, my roots. Bryan never quite felt it the same way I did, but he understood.
Then life threw us an unexpected twist.
Bryan’s uncle passed away, leaving him an inheritance, enough for us to start thinking—really thinking—about what came next.
At first, we danced around the idea. Was this practical? Was this crazy? Were we ready to take on a second home in another country, with all the complications that come with it?
But the truth? The truth was that we already knew the answer.
We weren’t just buying a holiday home. We were building a bridge.
A place where Anna and Luke, our children, could grow up knowing both sides of their heritage. A home that could bring us closer to my family without uprooting the life we’d built in England. A future retreat for us, a softer landing for our later years.
The Hunt for a Spanish Home
We’ve set our sights on Denia, a coastal town that sits between Valencia and Alicante. Far enough from the big tourist spots but full of life, history, and, most importantly, space.
We’re looking for a four-bedroom villa by the sea—a place that will serve as a family hub, a winter escape, and eventually, a full-time home.
Sounds simple, right?
Not quite.
The Reality of Buying in Spain
Buying a house in another country is not the same as house-hunting in Devon.
There’s the legal side, which Bryan is navigating like the seasoned professional he is (albeit with more swearing than usual). There’s the logistics of managing a home abroad, the currency exchanges, the paperwork, the mind-numbing bureaucracy. And then there’s the biggest challenge of all—finding the right home that fits all of this.
We’ve already seen places that look perfect on paper but fall flat in reality. We’ve had our first “what the hell are we doing?” moment. We’ve had disagreements, compromises, and the realization that maybe, just maybe, this process is going to take longer than we expected.
But we’re doing it. Slowly, messily, stubbornly—just like any dream worth chasing.
Why This Blog Exists
“Moving East” is where we’re documenting the highs, the lows, the “we’re definitely making a mistake” moments, and the small victories.
If you’ve ever dreamed about owning a home abroad, reconnecting with your roots, or just figuring out how the hell people manage an international move, this is for you.
We don’t have all the answers. But we have the questions. And we’re figuring them out as we go.
So here we are.
A family between two places, building something new.
Spain is calling.
Let’s see where this road takes us.