Living in Mas Torrencito is a privilege, no one doubts that. Waking up every morning surrounded by nature, with the birds singing (or chirping, depending on the mood of the day) and the faithful company of the dogs, is a marvel. I live without living in me by MasTorrencito
Here, the air is purer, life is calmer and modern stress seems like something from another planet. But, ah, my friend, don’t let this idyllic picture fool you, because behind every bucolic sunrise there is an economic slab that weighs more than a cement truck.
Because yes, I am lucky enough to have a job I like, to invest my time in something I am passionate about, but taxes are sucking our blood as if we were the protagonists of a fiscal vampire movie. Every month, when it’s time to do the accounts, the drama is the same: there is hardly any liquidity left to reinvest, to improve, to change that fossilized dinosaur-shaped mattress. Everything is spent on paying, paying and paying. And of course, one goes along, hoping not to become an expert in contortionism to make ends meet.
Here the year is not measured in months, but in seasons. For nine months, we live in a constant state of “oh my God, I can’t make it”, and then, as if by magic (and the arrival of tourists wanting to disconnect), those three months of Easter, Sant Joan and summer give us a respite. They are like that oasis in the desert, a small respite before returning to war. But be careful, it is not that we become rich, but simply that we stop feeling that the Treasury is chasing us with a scythe.
It is a constant tug of war. On the one hand, the fortune of living in a picture-postcard location, of sharing life with dogs who are always in a good mood (unlike my bank account), of enjoying the calm of the countryside. But on the other hand, the damn system, which does not understand low seasons and squeezes us mercilessly. Because here there is no economic stability, just a roller coaster with more ups than downs.
Every day, the head is in numbers, in forecasts, in strategies to survive until the next high season without having to sell a kidney on Wallapop. Every expense is measured more precisely than a Swiss watch, every investment is postponed in the hope that “next year will go better” (spoiler: it never goes better). And in the meantime, all we can think about is that beacon in the darkness: Easter. Because if we get there without our eyelashes falling out from stress, then we can go on autopilot until summer.
It is a way of life that borders on the absurd. Not because we don’t want to pay our fair share, but because effort and sacrifice never seem to be enough. It’s not about laziness or lack of desire; it’s about a system that seems designed by someone who has never had to juggle to pay bills. And so, year after year, we repeat the cycle: nine months of fright, three months of respite. And back to square one.
But in spite of everything, we are still here. Because there are things that money can’t buy: the pleasure of watching the sun hide behind the trees, the happiness of a dog running as if it had been wound up, the sound of the river on summer nights. It’s those little things that remind us why we’re still on this boat, even if it has more holes than a Swiss cheese. As long as there is hope (and tourists willing to spend), we will keep holding on, looking for ways to make this financial chaos a little more bearable.
Because if one thing is clear to us is that, despite everything, Mas Torrencito is still our little paradise. And even if taxes suffocate us, even if uncertainty makes us sweat more than a politician in a lie detector, we still choose this place. Because Mas Torrencito is not just a business, it is our home, our refuge, and the stage of our economic tragicomedy.
And above all, if we are still afloat, it is thanks to our dear customers. Those who also make efforts, who save, who prioritize coming here and choose us among so many options. We owe them everything. Because without their support, without their love and without their decision to make that extra effort to come here, we would not even have three months of respite. They are the soul of this place, the true protagonists of this story, so thank you, thank you and a thousand times thank you for making all this possible!
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
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