Election aftermath

Last night was probably the coldest I've experienced in Spain this year, although I don't suppose the temperature dropped below twelve degrees. I woke up several times, and couldn't resist a quick check on the American Presidential election commentary, and as proceedings developed it was harder to get back to sleep. I ended up hunting for another blanket as I wasn't conserving heat, after reaching for a phone or tablet on which I could listen to BBC news. By dawn, it was clear that there was going to be a major upset, not predicted by the polls, unexpected, as with the Brexit vote. 

The only early indication of Trump's victory came from a tech' blog commentator on Wired.com, pointing out that traffic analysts had noticed Twitter and other social media platforms were getting a disproportionately high volume of Trump favoured input, reflecting the same trend observed during the campaign. Trump seemed to be constantly in the news spotlight for his outrageous remarks, as social media would be the first place reporters would look for material to write about. 

Social media distributes and promotes information and disinformation, facilitating discussion outside the range of news media intelligence trawls and it happens much faster than news media can deliver. Trump's media strategists and activists contributed to his victory, and got people out to vote who had abstained or never voted before. Perhaps something similar was happening in the Brexit campaign, that wasn't adequately taken into account by those who thought they were going to win, and even took by surprise those who weren't sure they'd win. Only those who are really marketing savvy would notice the trend, from their own experience of commercial brand promotion.

So, America has been sold Trump, as it might have been sold soap, or a Caribbean time-share. Across the world his victory has evoked nervous reactions. Everyone is wondering how much of his blustering rhetoric he meant, and which outrageous statements if any, he will translate into policies affecting the lives of billions, and potentially the fate of the planet and humankind, if he disregards the latest climate change treaties, or is willing to use nuclear weapons as more than a deterrent threat. 

From Trump's victory speech, he has adopted a more dignified conciliatory posture, appealing for all parties to unify around his presidential leadership for patriotic motives. Obama and Hilary Clinton also made suitably dignified and patriotic noises of support for the presidency. A time honoured ritual, yet the exceptional toxicity of the campaign, undermined confidence in both main candidates. 

It's clear Trump won't have high popularity ratings as President, but no matter what he achieves, will he be trusted or respected? The media onslaught has exposed all the ills and weaknesses of the American political system. The ensuing loss of innocence cannot be ignored or hidden. In America, as in the UK, we are entering uncertain times. Navigating through whatever happens next when the collective moral compass has been trashed and tossed aside, is a real cause for concern.

I emerged from the house mid-morning and went for a walk, to get away from the radio and internet. A broken night's sleep made me feel like I had a hangover, despite several alcohol free days. It's hard to take it all in, hard to know how to pray about these affairs. Living with change and interpreting change from a faith perspective, is what I've been doing for most of my ministry. At my time of life that's about all I can do. Brexit, this election and all that accompanied both, however, represent what gets called 'disruption' these days, an unexpected and radical shift in the process of change itself. It challenges and shakes up our thinking in a way that is bewildering. Where do we go from here? 

After lunch I had a call from Alwyn asking if I could contact Mojacar's parish priest Fr Manuel and check he has the date for this year's bi-lingual ecumenical service of lessons and carols in his diary. I checked what I thought was the right thing to say with Google Translate, and called him. I was so pleased that he understood me and that I understood his affirmative response. Daily language drills using the DuoLingo Android app help greatly to anchor vocabulary and sentence formation in my memory, but what I most need is full time exposure to life in a Spanish speaking family and community. Having to speak French most days in Geneva did wonders for learning achievement. I need the same opportunity here in Spain!

In an effort to shut the news out of my head for a little longer, I went out for another walk at tea time, but only as far as the rio Aguas, and then circumnavigated the inland lagoon (if that's what this stretch of inland watercourse is rightly called) on the beach side. I got some photos of the first of the Egrets returning to roost, and several of warblers, though figuring out which kind of warbler, is another matter. I think there are several in this stretch of wetland. A very satisfying sort of distraction, before the sun slipped away behind Mojacar Pueblo and the Sierra Cabrera through an array of tinted dark clouds.

         

Walking again to Mojácar Pueblo

Again I was up and about before dawn this morning, but sunrise was at half past eight, local time. It's just as well that I don't have any early starts here. The clock goes back tonight, and adjusting to the change of hour won't be so critical as when I return home in just over two weeks, and have to put the clock back another hour. Oh those afternoon sunsets, and dark by half past four! I don't look forward to that.

After breakfast, I sat out on the balcony with the telescope on its proper tripod, so I could use it to spot birds a good hundred metres away. I identified a collared dove, both from appearance and its characteristic call, which is different from that of a turtle dove. Yet, according to my bird book, the turtle dove is supposed to be common here as the collared dove is in the UK. The book, however, was published over thirty years ago, and things have changed in that time.

The weather seemed good for another walk up to Mojácar Pueblo, this time using the shortcut over the back road I discovered last week. It took me just under an hour and a half. When I arrived in the Plaza with the large mirador looking out across the coastal plain to the north, I was surprised to find that since my last visit it has been closed, surrounded by heras fencing, and transformed into a building site. There were groups of puzzled tourists somewhat crammed into the remaining half of the plaza nearest the shops. Not what they expected either? 

For a while, I wondered if there'd been some sort of disaster there, but then I saw an Ayantamiento notice announcing closure of a few back streets due to the demolition and 'sustucion' of the Plaza. Google translate was unable to help me with this word, but when I was about to set off on the return journey, I saw a large information panel near the bus stop announcing the demolition and 'suscitución' (=substitution, i.e. replacement) of the Plaza. The puzzling word was no more than a municipal typo.

In the Plaza there's a redundant ermita, which has been turned into a souvenir shop. I went in this time, as it was open, and looked at the collection of small silver 'indalo' images, which I'd discussed with Clare as possible Christmas presents for Rhiannon and Jasmine. After a WhatsApp phone discussion with Clare, I bought two pairs, to use for earrings, rather than single ones to hang on chains.

I visited the Parish Church again to see if there was an advertised time for Tuesday's Todos Santos Mass, but could find no information. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a quiet time therein, until a tour party arrived, led by a priest. Then I sat outside in the Plaza de Iglesia with a beer and a warm tortilla tapa, watching people coming and going for a while. Then I wandered about in a part of the town I'd not gone through before found some streets with views on the highest elevation of the pueblo, facing the sea. At the top is a Plaza del Castillo, although nothing visible now remains of the mediaeval Moorish fortress.

For the return trip, I chose to re-trace my steps on the route I took on the first walk up to the pueblo. As my legs were already well stretched and tired, the descent to the plain was quite steep in places and uncomfortable to walk. I glimpsed several interesting birds on the route, but I identified only a crested lark as it ran away from me along a side path.

By the time I reached the apartment, I was quite footsore, perhaps because I wore my walking shoes for my nearly four hour expedition, rather than the usual sandals. That's only the second time I've worn them since travelling in them, so my feet were unused to the change from sandals, even though the shoes are comfortable to walk in.

After cooking lunch and a siesta, I realised I there was some weekend shopping to do. I couldn't face the usual four kilometre walkabout to the Mercadona, so rather than do without until Monday, guiltily I took the car. Apart from the rare convenience store, shops and supermarkets here are shut on Sundays now. I'm not sure what happens in high season. 

The roads have certainly been busier yesterday and today with the influx of people taking a break for Todos Santos. Hallowe'en silliness doesn't play such a prominent part here as it does in Britain and other places where culture has been poisoned by American marketing hype. It's a relatively recent introduction. The custom of visiting family graves, tidying them up, leaving flowers, and even having a picnic party there, is still widely practised in Spain. Death is accepted more as a part of life, rather than the subject of fear and supernatural fantasies. It's altogether healthier, in my opinion, than what has sadly become normalised in northern European countries.