Without a vision...

Yesterday, I had a late clinic appointment, so I went into town and took more photos of the St Davids House demolition. A big bucket excavator was at work clearing the mound of rubble and loading it into a lorry to take off to landfill. The site area is too confined for the demolition machine to work at the same time. Lorries park tightly in a cordoned access area where the pavement used to be, next to the site, and buses turn part the site a couple of meters away on a road used in the routine city centre bus turn around. There's scant margin of error for drivers and operators involved in this dance of heavy vehicles.

This morning I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's and straight afterwards was picked up and driven to Thornhill Crem for the funeral of a 92 year old lady, attended by just half a dozen. She was a young back office clerk during the war, helping to keep the airmen operational in the Women's Royal Air Force, so I wore my Royal British Legion chaplain's scarf to show my respect.

Parliament still fails to agree a plan to leave the European Union. As another deadline extension is reached, another delay is being sought. Some eurosceptic politicians and media brexit advocates are starting to admit to misgivings about making it happen, because of the complexity of the process and its impact. Polls indicate that a majority now favour remaining in the EU. As knowledge of the real consequences of the rupture is absorbed, I believe people are realising how misled they were by simplistic rhetoric, downright lies and a failure to envision future relationships between the EU and Britain after brexit.

A former EU diplomat on the radio reflected on the success of the separation of Czech and Slovak republics into separate nations. This was done swiftly and efficiently without disturbing incident and both countries remain EU members. Having acknowledged the peoples' call to undo the legacy of a state created by the secession of two distinct regions from the Austro-Hungarian empire in 1918, the 

negotiations were preceded by discussions about what both regions valued about their heritage and wanted to take with them into the future. 

In other words, they began from a vision of the future, not from a present sense of grievance generated by things they resented and rejected. If only Britain had been so constructive, envisaging a post brexit future! But maybe it's impossible anyway. The European project was born from a desire to create a shared environment in which post-war reconciliation and peace-making could flourish. I cannot understand why this hasn't featured in the brexit rhetoric of the past few years. The persistent idea that 'we won the war' unaided is a fantasy, an illusion. We are as we ever were, 'members of one another'.

  

Speyer to Breisach

After passing through a sequence of five locks during the evening and early hours of the morning, the MV Emily Bronte moored outside the historic town of Breisach, in the so called Kaiserstuhl region of the German Rhineland plain which has the mountains of the Black Forest to the east and the Swiss Jura to the south. At the centre of the region is the ancient university city of Freiburg im Breisgau.  It's a highly fertile region with volcanic soil, renowned for its wine and brandy production.

Then, after breakfast, we were taken by coach on a tour through some villages of the Kaiserstuhl, and up into the mountains to visit Titisee, a small lake fed by glacial waters, with the holiday resort town of Neustadt wrapped around its eastern end. The journey took an hour and a half, and we were subjected to a well informed running commentary throughout, delivered by someone whose accent and English grammar were characteristic of someone for whom English was probably their third or fourth language, and wasn't as accurate as it needed to be for a British English only audience. As it was still early in the day, a few pauses to look at the scenery without interruption would have helped data digestion.

Titisee was busy with visitors from all around the world, and our scheduled stay was just an hour and ten minutes. Not just to get us back in time for lunch, I suspect, but because there would be a flow of other scheduled coach parties to maintain in the relatively small car park, throughout sensible visiting hours. We walked around the eastern edge of the lake in two directions, observed the boat traffic on the lake, and then followed the sound of an open air band to the place where it was performing Strauss waltzes in an open air concert arena several hundred metres away. We also briefly visited the Christkoenigkirche, and said a few prayers, mindful of the fact that it's the sixth Sunday of Easter. 

Disappointingly Riviera Travel scheduling does not take into account the worship needs of its clients. There's no information provided about the possibility of attending a Sunday service at any destination. Some opted not to go on the bus trip, but to stay and attend Mass in Breisach. I had a personal reason to visit a place where my mother had been before she had her stroke, and hoped there might be a mid morning service to drop in on, but there wasn't. At least the church was open. Given the number of people we've met on this trip who are churchgoers, and with so many of the travellers senior citizens, more likely to attend church than any other demographic group, I think there's room for improvement here.

Our return trip was half an hour shorter, by a faster route. Two and a half hours in a bus with a one hour stay didn't to me seem the right balance for an outing. Anyway we were back at the ship just after one, and after a couple of short travel briefings about tomorrow's Swiss Alps trip and homegoing, the rest of the afternoon was free for us to spend exploring Breisach.

The town has a fine Minister church on top of a promontory overlooking the Rhine. For centuries this rocky outcrop was an obstacle dividing the river, and most of the area where the present town stands was flood prone meadow or wetland. In the nineteenth century a major engineering project established a huge long barrage covering the main river channels and islands, containing two separate lock systems. The river banks were stabilised, land was drained, and the town built around and on the promontory could then be extended over the reclaimed land.

The Minster church originated in the 11th century but was enlarged in the 14-15 centuries. One tower is Romenesque, the other later one has a Gothic spire. The west end interior walls are covered with frescoes from the expansion period, much faded but well conserved nevertheless. There's a carved stone chancel screen of this period, also in a north aisle side chapel a niche elaborately carved with images of Christ's burial, at one time used as part of the ritual of the Paschal Triduum. The modern nave altar is a glass box, showcasing a reliquary chest to hold the bones of local saints. Amazingly, this fine piece of craftsmanship dates from the 1970s.

The territory on which Breisach stands has been fought over by French and Germans for centuries. The Minster was reduced to ruins towards the end of the second world war, but rebuilt and restored thanks to the leadership of the Parish Priest and an eminent local academic historian. Both had been against the war and nazism, and were imprisoned for their witness in a concentration camp, yet survived to carry out a great work of love and peacemaking.

The Rhine is the Franco German frontier. Because of 19th century alterations in the course of the river, Breisach although a German town is in France, and the frontier line is now just outside the town boundary. In the 1950s, the town took advantage of this unusual situation, declaring itself to be a truly 'european' town where borders no longer matter, a first grassroots step towards building a European Community of nations. What lovely stories to arise from the tragedy of what will hopefully be the last European war, to matter what English nationalists may do to disassociate the UK from this reconciliation project.

Supper this evening was preceded by another Captain's reception to thank the staff and the crew for their work during the cruise, and was followed by a seven course meal. We sat at table with a couple from Telford, we'd not met before. Both are active in their local church, one a church warden, the other an ex-church warden. married in 1966, like us. I think we've met about ten people who are churchgoers during this week. It rather proves my point about the neglected churchgoing demographic among cruise clients.

As we were getting ready for bed, we went through the last of the ten locks on our 500km journey up river. We will dock in Switzerland at Basel Hafen, according to the itinerary, just after midnight. It'll be our first return visit to the country in five years. This time at the opposite northern corner from where we arrived to live and work back in November 1992, just after a Swiss referendum declined participation in the Schengen agreement, like the Brits. Neither country has suffered, and both have prospered since. But Switzerland has the Rhine as its main industrial artery, and a different economic story altogether.

Cardiff Christmas Eve

A quiet day of preparation, writing the third of my Christmas sermons and printing them off ready. But I still hadn't got something special to give to Clare instead of that new phone. After lunch I went hunting in town, and found something I was happy enough to give. It was a great relief. The mood on the street was quietly cheery. It's the two 'black' Fridays before Christmas when the office and works parties take place and the streets are a sea of inebriation.

I called into St John city Parish Church, hoping to greet Sarah the Vicar, but she was occupied with a congregation in a German carol service - a very nice touch indeed, considering that streets around St John's are occupied by the stalls of a German style Christmas market. The public address system along Working Street, where there are are series of bars and eateries, was pumping out jazzy versions of Christmas pop songs. I couldn't resist singing aloud as a strolled through. 

On Castle Street, a dad was taking a photo of his two kids flanking Cardiff's post box painted gold in honour of our local Olympic winner. I paused until the snap was completed, to smile at the kids, and hear the mum speak French to her husband. Probably having a holiday break with us in Cardiff. This prompted me to wish them "Bonne fête de Noel' as I went on my way, feeling glad that we're so much a European city nowadays, something which Brexit politics and mindset will not be able to take away.

There were just over thirty of us for the six o'clock Vigil Mass at St German's. In a moment's distraction I succeeded in reading the Gospel for Advent four - the Matthean birth narrative, instead of one of the stories from Luke or from John's Prologue. I realised not long after I'd started, but decided just to keep going to the end. It was embarrassing because the correct reading was on the service sheet in people's hands, and I was reading from the Gospel book. It only took a moment to explain that the mistake made didn't mean the lesson had to be re-read, as my sermon involved working through the story meant to be read and making points about it. I wasn't on my best form. After the Eucharistic Prayer, I performed the Fraction (Breaking of the Bread) before instead of after the Lord Prayer - the way it's done in the old Church in Wales 1984 - not what I was using!

At the end, I learned from an older woman who has started attending in the past few months, and on this occasion was accompanied by her daughter, that they come from Albania. I didn't ask if she was Orthodox or Roman Catholic, but having recently learned that the roots of the seemingly obscure Albanian language are in ancient Greek, I wished her happy Christmas in (modern) Greek, and drew a smile. I love their natural and un-selfconscious expressions of piety. She's evidently comfortable in St German's, where nobody stares at you for expressing love for God, even if a majority express themselves in a reserved manner, apart from exuberant singing and smiling.

The roads were empty as I drove home, shops were shut and many of the pubs and club it seems were quiet or closing early as well. Urban bliss now, as the place exhausts itself of festivity after a couple of months of marketed anticipation. Owain had arrived by the time I got home, and there was enough time for supper together, and a little relaxation before returning to St German's by eleven for Midnight Mass. Again, we were just over thirty people, enthusiastically embracing the moment. This time, despite the hour, my concentration held throughout, and there were no more errors.

I drove home just after one, listening to the end of Midnight Mass on Radio Four. The house was quiet, Clare and Owain, already asleep. I mulled some wine for a nightcap, but had to settle for a chocolate biscuits, as there were no mince pies out. They were still hidden in the depths of the freezer. These days Santa has no need to call at Meadow Street.

Sea defences and the EU

I sent Kath and Anto a text message to congratulate them on their 24th wedding anniversary. This happened around the time when the job in Geneva first presented itself to me, and when Clare's mother died. It seems like only yesterday, and so much more has happened to the whole family in the years since then.

I'm rising early, trying to deal with routine emails and uploading photos to the internet, but progress is hindered by slow low capacity broadband. This takes the edge off using a Chromebook, usually so smooth and slick at doing everything. Here I seem to do a lot of waiting, get time outs and app crashes. There's been no real improvement since I was here in 2012. The big difference now is the dominance of Cloud storage and web apps, and this sort of internet service isn't fit to meet the demands of today's users. Web user interfaces are are attractive, except when screen refresh slows to a crawl because of the connection. These days, having several connected devices in UK is normal. Here they tick over, but work effectively only one at a time.

I started wondering how people cope, as hypermarkets here have phones, tables and PCs to sell. They get bought and used, but what's happened here is ruled by the widespread rapid uptake of 3G and 4G phone services. Many people no longer bother with having a landline, and the quality of mobile internet is good. My Blackberry behaves here much as it does at home, away from home wi-fi. Here, when connected to wi-fi preferentially, it's not as good. I suspect that in some regions, the old landline telephone and broadband service infrastructure is not being modernised. It may not even be profitable to do so if, mobile infrastructure is new and better.

This morning, I drove to Lidl's to do some grocery shopping and stock up for the week, did some washing, then went out a walk along the coast path of the urbanizacion Saldonar, where the church house is situated. Eighteen months ago, I was aware coastal erosion that was taking place and took photos of some of the damage. It seems to have got even worse just after I left, as sections of the path battered by stormy seas, collapsed. Since then, work has been done on new coastal defences and walkways, funded by the EU, half a million Euros worth of work on the hardest hit places over a kilometre of local shore-line. It's good to see this kind of economic solidarity in action. Britain needs it too, and will suffer as a result of brexit.

After supper, I went for another walk up the barranco forming the boundary with the neighbouring urbanizacion Boverals on the town side. Beyond the houses is a wooded part of the ravine, from which some interesting sounds of birdsong were rising as the sun began to set, but nothing I could identify, which is most intriguing.

Post Cordoba reflections

Sunday morning, Bible Sunday, was my last visit to Calahonda to celebrate the Eucharist. Having gone to bed early, to optimise the advantage of the clocks going back an hour, I woke up well before the alarm, and even left the house twenty minutes early. Once I'd parked the car outside the church I realised that I had enough time to take a stroll down to the sea shore. It means crossing the N340 road bridge and heading through a street with a series of beach front exclusive residences, until I found a narrow lane alongside a stream which took me down to the water's edge. I was rewarded with a fleeting glimpse of a yellow wagtail, and a view of the sun over the waters, a little higher than usual at this time of morning. 

After a moment of quiet and a little Chi Gung exercise on the sand, I returned to the church, and entered at the usual time, to get ready for the service with a congregation of just over thirty. After taking my leave of those unlikely to come to next Sunday's 'bring 'n share' lunch at St Andrews, I drove back to Los Boliches where there was a congregation of forty five surrounded by the flower festival exhibits from the previous two days, still looking good. It was a successful venture, attracting around seventy visitors and receiving nearly four hundred euros in donations.

Apart from food shopping, and a brief visit to the church office in the afternoon the only thing I did all day was write up the Cordoba trip, which involved researching historical detail I'd deliberately avoided looking up before I went. As with other sacred sites in Spain, if not across Europe, a Roman temple site had been built over in the fifth century by Christians, in this case Visigothic invaders from Germany, then taken over by muslims, then re-taken by Christians. Such sites were strategic places in the power politics of each age, and religion a major dimension of this. But what of now?

Cordoba's mosque/cathedral is a UN World Heritage Site, in a European Community country, a venue for international tourism, a manifestation of 20th century globalisation of culture and its consumption. World trade has become an accepted if sometimes contentious feature of human existence. The work of the United Nations and all its specialised agencies, just like the European Community can be regarded as an interim step on a long agonising journey towards unified world governance. This goal is resisted by many who remain stuck with their ethnocentric political and economic self interest. If globalising impulses really did bring peace, prosperity, justice and security to all earth's citizens, it would signal an evolutionary step change for humankind. As long as the world remains so deeply divided between rich and poor, the powerful and the powerless, however, such reconciling enterprises are no more than glimpses of a distant utopia beyond reach.

I wonder if threats to places and things accorded World Heritage status from climate change, pollution, environmental damage, population explosion, or war will be enough of an extra stimulus to world citizens to make a difference in the challenge facing this generation to deal with so many critical issues facing our future?