Quarantine Cymru - day Four

Clouds and sunshine today, but no rain, and warmer again. I wish I could go out for an early morning walk. Clare returned from her walk and cooked delicious vegan pancakes for breakfast. Our Saturday treat. I have now worked out how to capture audio from YouTube with a Chromebook web app called 'Twisted Wave'. It's one which I must have used ages ago, as it recognised we when I logged in with my Google i/d. I can't have used it much at the time. After a lot of messing about, I found a way to channel YouTube sound from my Linux laptop to my little Sony hi-fi system, and then return it to the laptop's microphone input using a pair of stereo cables. This allows Audacity on Linux to capture the audio in an editable digital file. I could have done with knowing this yesterday.

I had a good chat with Hywel about our contrasting Balearic locum experiences. He was in Mallorca in February, leaving just before I arrived there. He too wonders how chaplaincies are going to cope as they derive a key proportion of income from visitors. 

The Costa Azahar Chaplaincy closes this month as it is no longer able to raise enough founds to keep going. Fr Louis, their priest already accepted a part time stipend, and had a part time job. I understand he's keen to stay in Spain and continue ministry like this. He's been appointed to St George's Malaga and starts next month. That chaplaincy is equally susceptible to fluctuations in tourist income, but has its own building and grounds, an enormous asset, unlike Costa Azahar, where church buildings and shop-cum-social centre were rented.

It's a welcome move for Malaga, with good potential for redevelopment long term, and a young priest willing to earn his living in return for a house for duty plus expenses arrangement. The shape of things to come in many chaplaincies and parishes I suspect. No more locums there for me, but when it's safe to do so, we will visit a city that I love and miss. Rosella has kindly offered us the use of her apartment in Rincon de la Victoria.

Public health restrictions are to relax slightly, and will allow churches to re-open for private prayer. it sounds good, and is seen as an acknowledgement of the importance of public sacred spaces for the good of the people. The guidelines of managing the re-opening are strict in nature, and will take a good deal of planning and organising, regardless of how many people take advantage of it as intended. Many people, particularly older people who might value their church being open again, are still nervous about going out, and may be reluctant to make a visit.

Not that many Anglican churches have been opened regularly for personal prayer over the past 30-40 years for security reasons. Once they could no longer afford a virger or caretaker churches saw a rise in numbers of thefts and vandalism. I wonder if the PCC of Canton Benefice will be able to reach a conclusion about the practicalities of church opening like this? Is there a need? How can one know?

Back at the time of the 9/11 terror attacks in 2001, I was Chaplain in Monaco. The next morning, I kept St Paul's church open for prayer during daylight hours, until the following Sunday, and spent time there in case anyone came to pray who needed a priest to talk to. Just a small handful of people came, few of them church members. The doors of the church had been kept closed outside of service times for years. I was told that Casino gamblers used to drop by and make a note of the numbers displayed on the hymn board if they'd been left up, as this was considered lucky. Whether it was a joke or not, I don't know, but it said something significant about irreverence and sacred spaces. 

I heard from my niece Nicky that my sister Pauline's funeral is to be on the afternoon of 3rd July. It'll be good for her son Jules, stuck in Dubai, after work on Friday, the Muslim day for weekly common prayer at the mosque. The service, at Worle crematorium in Weston will be relayed to those of us who cannot attend, like Jules, via a custom video link. Hopefully, Owain can attend and represent us. I've been asked to read on video the eulogy which she and Jules will write between them.

Return to base

Monday morning, with departure tasks completed, ready to go, I had a farewell visit from Pam and Alwyn, and with them a tech' team to connect house cabling to a roof dish antenna. Had I requested, this could have been done when I arrived, but I've been content to live without telly here for the past couple of months as I did last year, and during my spells in Malaga. It started with that December I spent in Sicily four years ago, when I realised how much of a time waster telly can be. Choosing to watch programmes via the internet when possible means I'm much more selective and economical with time than I used to be. There's work to be done refitting the apartment kitchen before the new Chaplain arrives in February, and there's another locum between now and then. I wish the Warden well, in getting this done in good time.

I said my Goodbyes at midday and drove to the Antas industrial estate adjacent to the A7 autovia, to meet with Tony and Janice for the trip to the town of El Altet near Alicante Airport, to stay at the Hostal Pensimar on the outskirts, which accommodated me overnight for my early flight home in November last year. I drove all the way there and enjoyed doing so. It's the longest drive I've done in Spain in recent years, 230km, just under two and half hours. I checked in to find my room was the same one I occupied last year, which was vaguely comforting. I told the desk clerk I'd stayed on November 14th last year, and he confirmed in a second that it was in their computer record.

Before parting company, we had a drink and a tapa at a nearby bar, then with a couple of hours of daylight left, due to an earlier arrival than last year, I went for an exploratory walk around town. I could see no evidence that was anything other than a late twentieth century development, established to serve airport workers and associated industries, built on a rectangular grid plan on the east side of the airport, closest to the sea coast, about 5km distant. The parish church had almost no distinguishing features, resembling a warehouse or a basic municipal community centre. I think it may have been built with  multiple uses in mind. It was closed, and  the exterior didn't look nearly as bright as in the web photos Its title written over an east facing facade is 'Temple de Sta Maria del Mar rather than Iglesia. I wonder why? 

On the way back to the hotel, I bought some food to supplement what I had brought with me, for a picnic lunch and supper in my room. Having no interest in going out again at night, I ready to sleep and was in bed by ten. I was up, and breakfasting an hour before the alarm went off, and took a taxi to the airport at a quarter to eight. The airport was still quiet and there were no queues to check in or to clear security, so I had a full two hours to wait in the departure hall.

The boarding process was chaotic. Another flight for Amsterdam was called, due to leave shortly after ours at the gate opposite. Passengers for both were trying to queues at the same time, with the Cardiff flight queue forming ahead of Amsterdam flight, snaking right across the gate used by the latter. There was nothing to partition the queues, no signs forestall confusion, and the Amsterdam ground staff turned up too late to avert ensuing chaos.

Adding to the chaos was the gate digital display panel, advising of the separation of Priority (rows 1-15) from Other passengers. A dozen mobility impaired passengers were queuing there. Some foot passengers occupying rows 1-15 were unsure whether or not 'Priority' meant them too, and didn't hold back. Mobility impaired passengers board first, wherever seated. Foot passengers occupying rows 1-15 sensibly with Vueling board last, but only if an intelligible announcement is made first.

Leaving it to staff inspecting boarding passes at the gate to separate and retain foot passengers for rows 1-15 is time consuming enough, even more so if an explanation is required. It's confusing and distressing if no explanation is offered, given a majority of passengers on this route are elderly occasional flyers. A clear large sized static boarding information panel at the point where passenger queue separation is required, giving the boarding order is all that would be required to eliminate herding chaos and anxiety. Once we were boarded, however, calm and order reigned and the flight was uneventful. I dozed fitfully, waking up just in time to see the Ebro Delta slipping away below, its huge rice paddies no longer a patchwork of greens and gold, but dark grey, hard to recognise in contrast. Memories of happy sojourns down there with the Costa Azahar Chaplaincy.

I was home by five to two, welcomed by Clare with a hot meal. After unpacking my case later, we found the the mains electricity switch had tripped. Nothing we tried could restore it, even with diagnostic help on the phone from our dear Greek electrician who rewired the house eight years ago. Eventually he came around, and methodically went through every appliance in the place narrowing it down to a multi socket board in my study. The most recent thing plugged in there was my laptop charger which normally lives there. Once removed, all was well. Whether it's a dying charger or one faulty socket, I don't know, but we were most relieved he saved the day for us. Funny, the charger was working fine in Spain until Sunday. If it's a problematic socket, has it killed the charger? That's for another day. Another long night's sleep now needed to recover from travel, and the traumas of homecoming, on this occasion.

One last service, one last Delta visit

At midday in the Vinaròs Fishermen's chapel I celebrated my final Eucharist with people from all three of the Costa Azahar chaplaincy congregations, as this was a fifth Sunday service, when they combine in one place. When I was here in July 2012 the same service was held out at the Ermita de San Sebastian that I visited on Friday. There were twenty present on this occasion, about half the number of four years ago. Sadly that signifies the difference between having a permanent chaplain and a succession of locum chaplains. People need continuity, they need a pastor they can bond with, and work with in a long term relationship. No matter how much energy a locum priest invests in the role, the fact of being transient works against anyone relating to them in depth. People are welcoming and appreciative for the ministry they receive, but for survival as a community, maintaining their bonds with each other must come first.

I've remarked on previous occasions about how often when officiating at funerals, and even weddings, hardly anyone wants to speak with the minister once the ceremony is over, once they have said their formal thank-you. So often families and friends are gathering for a one-off event and playing catch up, maintaining relationships with people they know which have been on hold for years, as they have scattered far and wide to work and live.

It's a far cry from the days of my youthful ministry, working with people who lived and worked in the same local community, many of whom I knew, and they knew who I was. In those days people would chat with the priest and include them in conversations, but nowadays the officiating minister is as much of a stranger to the gathering as is the funeral director or chauffeur. The mission of the church is to help people build community and make right relationships. In order to do so, its ministry doesn't have to be the centre of attention for any longer than is needed. Being there, doing the right thing to help build and working oneself out of a job is the type of service any kind of locum duty involves, engaging as fully as possible, but also being able to detach and not generate dependency.

So you need to have a life of your own, and interests other than the task. I remember someone saying when I worked as a mission educator "Every missionary needs a hobby.", which is why a camera and computer go with me wherever I travel, to help me reflect on experiences and discoveries in different places I visit.

Anyway, with this in mind, after lunch today I drove to the south side of the Ebro Delta, something which so far I'd not got around to doing. It's nearer and more accessible than the north side, so during previous stays I went there several times. It was hot, and I didn't want to be out for long as there was still bag packing to complete. So I drove from Sant Carles de la Rapita to the sea, past the Tancada Lake visitor centre, then along the beach road where I knew there was an excellent viewing point. On the journey there, I listened to Act One of Wagner's 'Götterdämmerung' on RNE Clasico from Bayreuth, with introductions made in Spanish, French, English and German, a truly European broadcast. I seem to recall listening to a similar broadcast of the Ring cycle when driving through the Delta, on a previous occasion. An epic soundtrack to accompany this special farewell journey.

The Deltebre is an area which conveys a wonderful sense of space, with its long straight roads, vast paddy fields of rice flourishing, but not yet ripening. With different varieties growing in adjacent areas, there are different shades of green, creating a subtle patchwork, and at the edges of fields where the irrigation channels run, red or yellow bog irises grow in numbers, their presence providing a vivid ribbon of colour in contrast to sky and fields. There's a scattering of small trees, often associated with the houses, and occasionally a huge eucalyptus punctuating the landscape and bringing variety to it.

Few flamingos were visible today, sadly. I didn't get many decent bird photos as there didn't seem to be many visible, maybe hiding from the heat. It was too early for them to gather in large numbers for the evening feed, but I did snap a sanderling, a redshank and a black winged stilt, each solitary What did please me was a succession of dragonfly photos, each parked atop a severed stalk of grass in the same location, different kinds too! It was a lovely way to conclude my stay here.

And then, back to the packing and cleaning.

         

Getting ready to go

The Chaplaincy treasurer John came by yesterday morning to settle up with me, as I'm bound for home, Monday. Rachel and Clare have already placed their orders for Mercadona own brand 85% chocolate, so I must remember to call in and buy some over the weekend, and go to the station and book my ticket on the fast train to Barcelona, which gets me in with plenty of time to spare before check-in starts.

When I started to consider packing, I realised that I've not used half the clothes I brought with me. It's so easy in this hot weather to hand wash clothes from day to day, since they dry so quickly, and only occasionally run a full load in the washing machine. I need to look more critically at what I pack for my autumn trip, aware as I am from previous assignments of how warm and dry it stays until the end of October if not later.

This afternoon, a shopping trip to Lidl, to stock up with enough food to cover the weekend and leave a selection of essentials for the locum who'll succeed me. I appreciated arriving here a month ago to find there was enough in the fridge to tide me over a couple of meals. As I learned when I was a teenager in the Boy Scouts nearly sixty years ago 'Leave the campsite they way you expect to find it.' A Chaplain's residence is  far superior to a campsite, but for locums who come and go, the same rules should apply.
  

Evolutionary questions

Today, I was in Alcossebre for the Eucharist. My fourth Sunday already, how time flies! I drove down early, before the congregation arrived. There was a noticeable increase in cars in the free parking lot on the edge of the town centre, to be expected as Spanish and French holidaymakers flock in after the end of the school term. It seems that many Brits travelling south by car are still queuing in Dover to get out of the country.

I sat on a pleasantly cool stone bench in the shade of a tree near the church shop while I waited for others to gather. There were twenty of us for the service, and I enjoyed preaching about the Lukan version of the Lord's Prayer. Afterwards, I drove to Peñiscola behind churchwarden Ron, to take communion to his wife Jenny at home. She's still confined to the house, awaiting joint replacement surgery. It was nearly four by the time I sat down to lunch at home. Not that I minded being later than usual. I don't seem to get that hungry in the heat.

In the evening, Clare and I talked for an hour on Skype, and at her behest I resent the invitation with travel instructions to a dozen people we know will be coming to our Golden Wedding party in just under two weeks from now. Co-incidentally an email arrived today from one who'd mislaid the emailed instructions, so this was well worth doing. All I have to do is learn to be patient whenever the internet connection drops from being normally slow to very slow, as it does from time to time. 

We've come to take reliability for granted since fibre optic communications began to spread in Britain. In other places, investment priority seems to have switched to mobile internet services, but Britain has developed both, and it's just as well to have not only extra capacity, but a different kind of capacity for communications, as our world now continually shifts volumes of data that would have only been thought of in science fiction stories a few decades ago.

It's amazing to think of the different social and cultural evolutions I've experienced my lifetime, due to the technological innovations that have taken place. Will the rate of change be sustained, are there limits to the potential for growth and development? How are we going to cope with inevitable setbacks for humankind due to the impact of global warming, the gulf between haves and have-nots population growth, and the competition for finite resources? Possibly we have the equipment and even some of the ideas to address these challenges. Does humankind have the moral and spiritual substance, and sufficient collective will to accomplish the task, before problems overwhelm us?
       

Council commitment

This morning, it was unusually cloudy and overcast. There was no sight of the sun peeking through clouds until early evening. It was a bit humid but not unpleasantly warm, something of a change. It threatened to rain, but there was only the briefest of showers, which deposited more find Saharan sand on the car than it did water, so it needed a wash.

The chaplaincy council convened at the Vicarage. I provided drinks, and listened to proceedings. Apart from a few months of having a permanent priest in 2013, they've coped with locum chaplains for the past five years. It's been difficult but they've held together, despite being three congregations spread over a fifty mile length of coast. It's impressive to see their steadfast commitment with no prospect of an appointment any time soon. They have even survived months at a time without a visiting priest, and that speaks volumes about the steadfastness of the faithful.

Having said that, after the next two month summer locum priest, someone is coming for six months, whom they know and has been before. This will be an encouragement to church members, certainly one they deserve. There are people here with all kinds of Christian background, and it must be hard for those who feel the need of sacramental ministry and rely on priests. 

Amazingly though, people adapt to less frequent Eucharistic celebrations, and accept the ministry of Readers and lay worship leaders, and stick together for the most part, as belonging is so important to all, as members of expatriate communities. There are I'm sure lessons to be learned and examples to be followed here, on the part of parishes back in Wales, now having to cope with clergy cut-backs and the demise of once ubiquitous parochial pastoral cover.