A day of small successes

Waking up to another bright and sunny day certainly infused me with fresh impetus to tackle a few tasks I've left undone from sheer inertia. First, I went and topped up my bus fare card in the estanco down the street. I assumed it was empty, and was surprised to find it still had enough on it for three journeys at €1.30, plus the €10 top up. So why did the card keep throwing up read a read error when I tried to use it on the bus? 

I walked to what I thought was the bus card office on the Alameda, only to learn after queuing for ten minutes that it was only the bus card top up office, and that I needed to visit another office further down the Alameda that deals with card issues. Never mind, I was pleased that I succeeded in explaining the problem and understanding the answer without recourse to a word of English, and the same in the card issue office. Here it was explained (I think) that my 20 month old card still worked and was good for 5 years, but the card issued wasn't was of a slightly different type, and not really what was best suited for city journeys of up to an hour with no change of bus to a different fare zone. Better still, the new card fare simple trip charge is €0.97 instead of €1.30! Ironically, it wasn't the Spanish that gave me problems but actually understanding how the fare structure operates with this technology. I've read it on the EMT website, understand the language but the concepts are a mystery. Never mind, cheaper fares with make up for this.

Mission accomplished, I wandered over into the shopping streets and found a substantial bookshop which would be the equivalent of a UK Waterstone's in terms of variety on offer. I fancied buying a poetry book, to practice reading and decoding an artist's text work. At home I have a book of Pablo Neruda poems, which has given me enjoyment. Up on the third storey, I found several of his works and bought a slim volume of his early love poems, which has become a classic. I also discovered the shop had an extensive section devoted to religious books and scriptural texts, a couple of dozen shelves. The bookstore we'd visited while searching for a Spanish New Testament for my birthday sent us to a specialist religious shop, as nothing of this kind they had in stock. Maybe there's some kind of ideological fault line in the bookselling world, I wondered at the time. Evidently not. It's a matter of getting to know the diversity of the market offers, here as everywhere else.

Then, heading back for the apartment, I stopped at a religious supplies store in an alley near the Cathedral, to get Amanda the rosary she recently asked me to buy for her. The shop had one made from Jerusalem olive wood, which I thought she'd appreciate. Encouraged by today's absence of setbacks, I decided it was time to pluck up my courage and mount the motion sensing light over the apartment doorway. It was somewhat tricky, as the landing lights are on time switches, and I had to stand on a chair and use a screwdriver up over my head, in order to secure it. It's not all that bright, and maybe it could be in a better position, but at least it illuminates the double key hole in the door. 

So now I don't have to walk across the landing in the dark and switch on the light, then return to lock the door - menos mal - as they say. I understand that the antiquated lifts are soon to be replaced, and hopefully with that the apartment block will get motion sensing lights through the stairwell. Present glumness certainly detracts from the attractiveness and value of these prime location properties.

After supper, I walked to the port as the sun was setting. The millionares' residential cruise ship was getting ready for a departure just before midnight. In the sky above, the new moon was descending towards the city skyline with one other brightly shining object nearby. Venus? Or the International Space Station maybe? Amazing either way. 

Life, but not as we know it

Yesterday was the day of Sta Lucia, and Sara over there in Gothenburg sent me some photos and a video link to a TV recording of a national celebration of carols. Then again this morning, photos from the early morning ceremony at the school where she teaches. Lucia customs aren't that widespread or embedded as part of our winter folk ceremonies. It's very charming and beautifully atmospheric, but what is it really all about? I ask and get no answer that satisfies. In our email exchange I quoted Spock from Star Trek "It's life Jim, but not as we know it!", but Sara didn't get it. She was born around the time the first series got shown on UK TV, and has never watched. 

So, this led to me writing her a brief summary description of what it was all about and why it mattered to people of my age, quite apart from all the antics of the world wide fan-base of 'trekkies'. Putting down my thoughts made me realise how much the Star Trek narratives had reflected the debate about multi-culturalism and pluralism, and working at eliminating conflict. The other great sci-fi saga of the age influencing many is Star Wars, again in the public eye due to the new movie release. All the rage when Owain as a little boy, it never grabbed my attention, and I'm not even sure I can recall sitting through one of the movies on telly, let alone in a cinema. Having been raised on a diet of heroic World War Two battle movies, with roots in recent history much nearer to recent reality, I was destined to lose interest in Star Wars early on. Sci-fi that envisaged an era when we would 'study war no more' engaged with my idealism better.

Now today is the feast of St John of the Cross, whose poetry I have started dipping into in this past week for the first time. The Breviary office for the day contains a text from his 'Spiritual Canticle', all about suffering as a route to contemplation. Thought provoking, to say the least. I like the joyous innocent simplicity of his poetry. By contrast, the simplicity of Pablo Neruda's observations of life are of a different. He looks in detail at ordinary people and the things of life, giving an almost sacramental value to that which others would treat with contempt or ignore. His socialist humanism, if I may call it so, has a truly incarnational ring to it, an earthly mysticism. Two Spanish poets five centuries apart giving much much delight and inspiration this Advent, helping me to cope with the darkness of the year more cheerily than usual.

This morning I did the week's food shopping on foot, visiting first the Co-op and then Lidl's, braving the rain and getting four miles worth of exercise, much needed. I posted all the foreign cards, and then finished off the rest of the British ones. Seventy in all. Very satisfying.

   

Poetic discovery

The second Sunday of Advent Eucharist at St German's this morning, numbers down a little due to the rotten weekend weather. Hamid, an asylum seeker from Pakistan was in the congregation again. His spiritual journey led to family rejection and took him away from his homeland, in his endeavour to study the bible and learn more about Christianity. He has been coming to St German's since he was sent to a Cardiff hostel, pending a case appeal, a few months ago. His life will be at risk if he goes home. He's asked us to write to his solicitor to confirm that he is attending church regularly.

Happily he's found an experience of Christian worship at St German's that speaks to his contemplative side. Punjabi speaking Christian communities introduced him to the Bible in his mother tongue, but their noisy, exuberant style of worship has limited appeal for him. Happily, it's the beauty, peace and orderly dignity of worship that appeals. He's asked for baptism, and we're aiming for this on the feast of Christ's baptism in January. It's going to be a challenge, given his limited English, but it's clear his heart is set on this. 

For the first time in many weeks Clare went to Riverside Farmers' Market after church, before lunch to stock up with some favourite cheeses, including mature Caerphilly, which to my mind ra

nks with Parmigiano for flavour, eaten on its own with a glass of the right red wine or grated and sprinkled to enhance a cooked dish. She's been making her own mincemeat this weekend, and the house is full of heavenly Christmas aromas.

Having done my DuoLingo Spanish revision exercises for the day, I set about hunting for my copy of the poems of St John of the Cross on the various bookshelves around the house. It's a bi-lingual edition with an classic English translation by Roy Campbell, which I acquired over thirty years ago. I wanted to see how much of the Spanish I can now decipher. It's really time I started reading things to improve my comprehension, as well as practising reading aloud for fluency. 

It took a while to find, but in the process, I discovered on another bookshelf a bi-lingual collection of poems by Pablo Neruda, given to us by a friend, some years ago, when we began spending time in Spain. I was delighted to realise that I could read and follow his work far better than I'd anticipated. There is a directness and simplicity to his writing which makes it more accessible than the Renaissance language of St John of Cross - new sources of inspiration and enjoyment to savour.