State of Alarm - day Forty Nine

Now that it's possible within reasonable limits to get out and about every day, I decided it was time for me to make the effort of driving to San Antoni and getting some money from the Santander cash machine. Regardless of language the user interface on modern ATMs is generally user friendly, and in this case, once a UK card was registered, the dialogue priority was English. I think the last time I drove down to San Antoni was seven weeks ago. There was no question of not knowing where to go, where to park or how to work the machine, but inwardly I was nervous, and it was quite an effort to get myself out of the house and into the car equipped with mascarilla y guantes, plus hand-gel. 

I was nervous at being in a public place with others, nervous about appropriate behaviour, since I've had no practice since lock-down began, only going out when the streets were empty. Nervous having to think about correct, safe hygienic behaviour for my sake and the sake of others. Mindfulness and nervousness don't sit well together. It's the sort of thing prisoners released at the end of sentence worry about while they adjust to mundane life again. It's the sort of thing people with agoraphobia or obsessive compulsive disorders have to endure, with or without support. Such a jittery experience is not wasted, if it enables you to put yourself in the shoes of another. 

I parked the car down the far end of the marina, a ten minute walk from Banco Santander. A few of the wayside bars and restaurants were open and serving to clients sitting at socially distanced tables. Some masked municipality workers were out, the odd masked cyclist and unmasked elder making their morning paseo. The car park was almost full, but I found a place, and noticed that cars were coming and going fairly often, people visiting briefly for specific purposes maybe, but not staying around for long. People need time to get used to new routines by practicing them and then relaxing with them. Me too.

The neatly groomed beach along the road into town was deserted. I think I saw one Proteccion Civil vehicle, but no police at all. I guess the area is covered by CCTV, and Tuesday morning isn't like Saturday or Sunday, when people like to get out for a paseo and become a crowd that causes anxiety to the enforcers.

Anyway, mission accomplished. My card still works, and I was able to withdraw €200. It's cash I'll now need as I'm now going to resume shopping for myself. Ibiza covid-19 infection rates have stayed in check for several weeks, and lifting some restrictions, provided accepted precautions are still strictly observed, encourages me to think the risk level is acceptable. Whatever I do when I get back home it will be higher anyway!

While I was driving back my phone kept pinging. Back in the house I fielded a text message from British Airways telling me that my home flight to Gatwick, booked on 26th had been cancelled, and that I could book another to London at no extra cost. I was upset but not altogether surprised. Last night, the BA head of Gatwick operations was on the news saying that the airline was contemplating withdrawing all its services from the airport. Twelve hours later notification o flight cancellation arrived.

It directed me to a re-booking page I suspect had been hastily constructed overnight. It was crude and user-unfriendly. I had to hunt, date by date after the flight cancelled to find the next available flight to anywhere in London from Ibiza. No diary  with flight dates highlighted was available, like going back to booking fifteen years ago. A rush job, reflecting what BA would describe as a fast moving business situation, never mind the customers struggling to get their planning heads around changing circumstances.

So, I am now booked on a flight to Heathrow on the first of June instead. Rosi said BA never fly from Ibiza to Heathrow - a change of policy, or a flight which will turn out to be like some of the emergency flights, stopping over to collect and drop off passengers like an old style country bus. If we get to Heathrow, it will suit Kath and I much better, as it's half the Gatwick travel time back home to Wales.

I now have two additional Sundays of work here, more on-line services and bible studies to prepare. I'm happy about that. It may mean I can complete my guided tour of Acts, without having to compress the last third, and neglect stories worth examining. A detailed study of Acts with proper discussion is a year's job at least. My desire has been to enable bible study group members to look at the whole with fresh eyes, and see the unique transforming nature of what was going on in the stories Acts tells us. Get excited about the detail in the light shed by the big picture, is the message, but it's hard work when it's such a long and varied story.

Only recently I came across a testimony to the influence of Paul's teaching by a leading UK atheist intellectual - sorry don't remember his name - he identified Paul's advocacy of freedom, equality and human dignity as gifts unleashed on the world through the story of Jesus, as being the paradigm shift in changed self understanding which overthrew empires, led to the reformation, enlightenment and rise of modern science and technology. A very secular meaning to the grace revealed in Christ's Gospel, but I think he's right. It takes an outsider to recognise the true value and impact of all the church has struggled and often failed to teach, as it became socially acceptable to believe. 

After lunch, I walked down to the rocky lava covered seashore at Cala de Bou, and took photos of the Cormorant couple on the foreshore now rather than on the island. No sign of chicks however. On my return, before supper, I walked up to Es Cuco and did some shopping, having regained enough confidence to do so. On my last shopping visit here I was intercepted and questioned by police, still at the early stage of working out how to carry out enforcement, and how to identify idiots and dodgy geezers. Hoy, nadie. The shop wasn't busy, staff were kitted out properly and screened, and it was relaxed as friendly as ever, the changes taken in their stride. Long may they prosper!

After supper, another evening spent relaxing, listening to a Beethoven concert on BBC Radio Three. Slowly I am unwinding ...

State of Alarm - day Forty Two

I didn't sleep too well last night. I'm not exactly excited at the prospect of going home in three and a half weeks time and straight into quarantine. The weeks of self isolation to protect self and others have been necessary, staying safe has become habitual. Travelling home means having to think a lot more about how to stay safe and be on the alert in an open social context, a responsibility which I haven't had to think much about for the past two months. Resetting one's mind to take conscious precautions en route isn't a worry, but does inevitable has to be thought through so that I don't get caught out and come to grief.

Cooler and cloudy again today, but no rain. Much of the day I spent preparing and recording the Bible Study to upload for tomorrow, plus a couple of hours on the phone, plus two hours walking. And then it was bed-time. Time slips by so quickly.

This afternoon I had a call from a lady speaking Spanish but with the odd trace of Italian accent and vocabulary, enquiring about an interview to book a wedding. I explained to her that nothing was for the moment possible because of the Estadio de Alarma, but that en email at the end of May would be the best way to ensure a meeting could be arranged. I was delighted that she understood me and that I didn't need to repeat myself or say 'no entiendo'. It's the first time I've used Spanish since I was overnight in Palma at the start of this Spanish sojourn. How ironic!

St Catherine's Churchwarden Hilary sent me some photos of the churchyard garden. She, husband Clive and Gareth have been spending many lock down hours social distancing while clearing new patches of ground, pruning and sprouting plants this past few weeks. A wonderful prophetic sign of hope and renewal, giving God a hand instead of feeling helpless. It makes me feel guilt about the jungle outside I walk around daily. The weather hasn't been great, I wait for it to dry up a bit, then it rains, but I really must get the strimmer out and do some tidying. Soon.

    

Sunday morning arrival

I was unable to benefit from an extra hour's sleep, and woke before dawn, as I have been doing lately. By the time I'd prayed and breakfasted, I was ready to leave for church but still an hour early. I heard a ship's siren sounding, something I've not so far noticed here, so I walked to the Rio Aguas bridge and then beyond to investigate. One of the large bulk carriers was on its final approach to Puerto Garrucha, in the company of two tugs. I watched the nearly 30,000 tonne ship being helped to dock stern first at the quay where gypsum is loaded, and got some pleasing photos. Later, the maritime traffic website told me the ship is called 'Kure Harbour', that it docked three hours ahead of schedule after a voyage from Morocco. The tugs, Nueve Chaparro and Guapo C are Garrucha based, and the website records their comings and goings regularly.

As I walked back over the bridge, I spotted a Great Heron standing in a prominent location up river, and took some photographs. It's the first I've seen here.

Then, off to the Ermita San Pascual for the Eucharist. As this is an autumnal holiday weekend for local people, the roads were a little busier than usual. It's quite noticeable because the speed limit along the coast road is 40kph, with plenty of speed bumps. Drivers don't negotiate these bumps in a uniform way - some are businesslike about it at 40kph, whilst others slow down considerably, and that inhibits the traffic flow even further. I remember people saying how the 20 minute journey time to the Ermita can double, if not more, on summer holiday Sundays, and now I've seen the contrast between Sundays, I understand why.

There were fifty people in church, and my Bible Sunday repeat sermon was only the same in parts, as there are options in the lectionary, and this week's readings were different from last. After the service, I was invited to lunch by Peter and Angela along with a friend of theirs at an Indian restaurant in Vera Playa. It was an enjoyable surprise. The food was good, and so was the company. I could have done with a siesta went I returned but somehow it didn't happen. 

I spent a long time talking with Clare on WhatsApp, as she was watching Rhiannon bake and decorate Hallowe'en cup cakes. For a short while it was impossible to sustain the call connection, no matter which internet app I tried. No idea why, but every now and then it seems to happen, regardless of the device I use, or the country I'm in. Amazing it works as well as it does, and how much better now that it was just 5-10 years ago. It's just inconvenient if it doesn't always work for no reason. But, it does reveal just how dependent it's possible to become on the perpetual availability and reliability of this means of communication.

Street view navigation

Today's Bible Sunday service took me again to Llanos where there were over thirty people for the Eucharist. Many regulars are away at this time, I understand. The weather was comfortably mild, even with a wind, much to the relief of many present, as it was unnecessary to use fans to keep cool. We began the service, in consequence, with a few minutes of delicious silence. I told a little of the story of the Bible Society's world wide work, and afterwards found there were some who are familiar with it. I felt a little like I did back in to eighties when I was often out and about preaching 'world mission' sermons and telling stories about the work of church agencies at home and abroad.

While I was just about to eat lunch on returning, I had the exchange of calls about the funeral on Wednesday which I'd been expecting last night, and then made arrangements to visit the widow, who lives just up the valley from Arboleas. She gave me clear instructions, which I tried to follow on Google maps with little success. Putting the address into the search bar produced nothing. So I tried using Microsoft's Bing map search engine. That produced no result and the area map was far inferior. Using Google Street View again, as I did yesterday, I followed the main road towards the house to the point at which there was meant to be a right turn. Indeed there was, but there was no view of a street, only a view of tarmac'd stretch of road without houses. This convinced me that neither map nor Street View have been recently updated.

It's not uncommon here for streets in new housing developments to remain un-named for several years after houses are built and occupied - they are simply known by the original developer's plot numbers. Keeping street maps up to date is by no means an easy task when there are so many new developments to cover all over the world. 

When Street View was first came to Cardiff city centre, it showed pictures of the redevelopment work well in progress, from late 2008. Earlier still, Google Earth had shown aerial photos of the city centre dated October 2006, the week when demolition began. You could even see a huge yellow machine that eats old buildings parked on a flattened site. It would be another five years before this aerial view was updated. I lost track of when Street View caught up with the place transformed, but do know it was a year or so after the work was completed in summer 2009. I pitied foreign visitors using these services, having heard about the wonders of the new shopping centre and finding images of a building site instead. Not good for tourism! My protests yielded nothing, but that was in the days before I could complain publicly on Twitter.

A couple of weeks ago, I broke my HSBC code generating device, used for CBS business internet banking. I didn't feel I could throw it away intact, so I reduced it to pieces to throw away, and extracted the tiny lithium battery for safe disposal. It's always a challenge to find a battery disposal unit at home and abroad. Here in Mojacar however, there's a collection point facility I've not seen elsewhere. There are tall advertising panels at certain points along the street, and built in to the base of some is a safe disposal unit. Ingenious. I must have walked past one nearest to the apartment a dozen times without remembering to drop off the battery. Tonight, on my evening paseo, I finally remembered, musing to myself that sometimes you can overlook doing the right thing, even when it's possible and right in front of you.