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Updated: Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Visits from 05/03/07: 1998 |
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October 2007 |
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The artists claim that one of the great attractions to this area is the light, especially during the autumn. The different colours, shades and textures encourage them to reach for their paintbrushes to celebrate some of the many views which have been casually thrown together over the centuries. Perhaps they can discern what we must only feel, a gentle respect for the earth and its bounty, so soothing to the soul and pleasant to the mind. Certainly we have known many artists pass through our area, sometimes to stay for a while, or perhaps a lifetime. In Mojácar, a new art museum, to be filled with part of the town hall's robust collection, will be built just above the town's fountain, in a place where the sound of the gentle ripple of water combined with some fine paintings and carvings will be bound to relax and repair us.
This month's edition makes the newspaper, at least in this incarnation, a heady four years old. We have been lucky to have introduced to the public some of the best writers and observers of the Spanish scene, a worthwhile activity indeed. Since we have chosen, of our own free will, to live here, we are more than enthusiastic about the many charms and attractions which our new life in Spain has brought us, and we are naturally defensive against any cynical or mercenary plans to change our neighbourhood more necessary. Reports of some grandiose plans for the Almerian Levante are circulating and we can only hope that they come to naught, but again, we need to keep an eye out on the news because, despite what some people pretentiosly claim, this is now our land and our pueblo. It is worth defending.
This edition has much to say, with some seriousness here and there but, overall, lots of fun. We start with Ángel who is concerned about the speed of time as it gallops past, just when he was beginning to feel comfortable. Lenox claims that we must help each other, particularly in business, as word reaches us that JAFO has ordered a private luxury submarine to help him drop into Almería to do his paperwork and to have a decent place to park.
Peter writes about the upcoming general elections in Spain for March next year and Richard gets creative on the keyboards. The Brigadier reports over a cup of tea from the trenches and Tom takes a flutter on a good investment. Gwyneth is back from her holidays, Jocelyne is under a cloud and Hugh finds a beetle in his meat pie. Andrew introduces us to Spain's most prolific writer and David pets his pets (so to speak). Perhaps he pats them. On our Ciudadanos Europeos page, Gwilym warns us of the possible dangers of 'equity release', John comments on the uselessness of the Residents' Certificate and Per writes about the lack of languages in Spain. Or España, if you prefer. Sergio tells us how are things today and Catherine remembers how they used to be. We have some good jokes, plus our letters page, a story about some pipers and a mole or two and our usual guide to what's on locally.
One of the pleasures of editing a local newpaper is being able to present new writers (see this edition) and new artists. Isabelle Raths, whose village scene we reproduce on this month's front page, is not entirely new, having lived in Bédar for most of her life, but she is new to this, The New Entertainer. |
Time Out |
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There – I’ve found the right title for this article as it not only advertises what I’m writing about this month, but also uses an expression from basketball – a game which is currently all the rage in Spain. Especially since we took ‘Silver’ in the ‘Eurobasket’.
Two birds with one stone.
Because my intention today is to write about how we spend our time.
Of course, dozens of studies have been published on this subject over the years from various points of view. The most common axiom is that we spend a third of our lives asleep, or maybe it was half – I must have dropped off when I started reading the report on the subject.
Children sleep more that teenagers, who in turn sleep more than the oldies.
Which could suggest that the oldies have more time to spend doing things. A fuller day. But no, quite the opposite.
I can remember those summer afternoons of my youth, spent in a small town in Valencia together with my family. Interminable stretches of empty time which would begin at the close of a long siesta, as overseen by our mother. Boiling hot afternoons, with the sun dripping molten lead onto the deserted streets and the church bells tolling the hour. Three. Four. Five… as my brothers and sisters and I would be flopped on the old mattresses my mother had put out on the terrace in search of the tiniest breeze, reading old comic-books and furtively chewing gum.
Long afternoons… as we waited for the heat to diminish a bit so we could at last be released to go out and play with our friends. I had more than enough time for anything.
Well – anything except the summer homework. Each year I would put the essays and books on the back burner until the day before school began and I would have to start the new term promising myself that next year I would prepare myself properly.
In those times, in one day you could play several games of football, go fishing in the river, read some, paint a while, go out for a walk and hunt girls so as to pull their pony tails and play Cowboys and Indians with a set of plastic figures.
In those wonderful years, television had barely been introduced. There were a few hours of blurry black and white shows starting around 7.00pm which were quite unwatchable and, of course, we preferred to be outside playing. Now look – the whole country watches the telly.
TV watching, like many other futile affairs, is another slice of time wasted, ‘Time In’ as it were.
Life is about eating a great paella (while, of course, washing the plates afterwards is time wasted). Drinking a bottle of fine wine is life (not wandering around afterwards looking for a stupid bottle-bank).
The hours we pass in queues, waiting for a bus, waiting for the dentist, or trying to pay some local tax in the town hall or in government offices. All time wasted.
I could mention a hundred other things we put up with in life which are a complete waste of our precious time, but by listing them, one would be obliged to conclude that adults live but for a short while, between those various wasted hours which assail us. The family television being the main culprit.
I waste almost an hour every day walking the blasted dog, a sort of sausage-hound which has adopted my family as its own and, despite my best intentions, has become something of a friend.
I spend a further two hours a day looking for my glasses, my house-keys, the telephone number I wrote on the back of some piece of paper, or even the note which was to remind me what I intended to write about today.
More time is wasted with the daily search for where I left my car or by returning home to make sure that I had remembered to switch off the gas, feed the hamster or kiss my wife goodbye.
A long list of time, precious time, stupidly wasted as we reflect on how short our stay on this earth really is.
Life is but a few days. Nothing is so true if we but cast back through our lives in search of those times where we really felt alive.
Which reminds me. Is it really worth wasting our spittle and our precious time talking about politics?
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Three Bites to the Cherry |
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There’s been quite a lot of traffic on the local Internet forums about whether or not to support British bars – or perhaps ‘British business’ in general. Some people argue that, since we are living in Spain, we should be supporting the Spanish. I wouldn’t be surprised to read somewhere that the Spanish are of the same opinion. However, we all need to make or earn or, at least, obtain enough money to keep us going, Spaniards and Brits alike.
There are, broadly speaking, three different types of Britons coming to Spain – if you consider this part of the Iberian peninsular as being ‘Spain’ since most towns around here now have more foreigners than they do locals. Three types. The first are those who live here on monies from ‘home’, perhaps a cheque in the mail from parents grateful to hear that you are ‘doing well over there’ and have no thoughts ‘of returning just yet’. More seriously, there are many of us who live comfortably on an income. They typically are retired and have time to travel around Spain, perhaps ‘Parador hopping’ or the occasional shopping trip down to Marbella or Gibraltar or maybe they prefer to spend their time at home, gardening or entertaining. This group, as far as Spain is concerned, is most welcome. They spend freely and they don’t ‘take away anyone’s jobs’. Say somewhere over half a million of them.
The second group is those who wanted to come and live here, perhaps sick of the modern society of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Sick of the dull grind where people grudgingly admit that ‘they manage’ with any apparent enthusiasm for their sad existence. They move out here, perhaps a little younger than the first group, in search of a better life. They will have to work here to live, perhaps a bar or some small business to keep them going. It is this group that attracts the attention of the forum writers. Should we support them or should we prefer the Spanish, they wonder.
I agree that this is a wonderful place to live and if – all other things being equal – a Briton opens a business then we should be glad to help and favour him with our business. Why on earth not? It’s hard enough here – Spanish clients are not generally going to come in droves, the taxes and stock are usually a little more expensive and the rules can be a bit tighter. Witness the Brits who took over a bar in my pueblo. They were told they couldn’t use the terrace. A year later, now with local owners, the same bar is spread all over the terrace and halfway into the street.
Furthermore, there is always small teething problems associated with running a business in a foreign country. One evidently brand-new bar owner once asked me how to cook some sardines as his Spanish customer had evinced some interest in enjoying some with his beer. ‘Bloody hell’, I told him ‘not the foggiest’. I feel sorry now – he shut a few weeks later.
It’s a shame when people come out here, full of hope for a better life, with their children and their possessions, only to find that their plan for a small business will run up against indifference, jealousy, obstructionism or other trials. We should support them not just as ‘fellow Brits’ but as people who have made a gamble with life. They didn’t sit still.
The third group, small but always in evidence, is made up of ‘chancers’. They will be running on dry and without any thought to return to their country. They will live vicariously off the rest of us, either cadging drinks, working for a morning painting our wall, or perhaps, coming up with a small con.
However, they too are welcome.
It sounds savage back there in Manchester.
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The Wars of the Roses |
As the summer came to an end and our politicians started looking at the beginning of a new political period, there has been a markedly different approach between the Socialists and the Partido Popular. If the PP has approached the oncoming season calmly with quiet expectations for success in the General Elections that are due in six months time, the same simply cannot be said for the PSOE. The PP has decided to base all its hopes on the not inconsiderable success scored by Francisco Camps in the Autonomous elections in the Valencian Community last May, where he once again trounced the Socialists led by Joan Ignasi Pla, who retired very hurt indeed for the summer season, with his leadership of the Valencian Socialists in some doubt. However, it does seem to appear that rather like the participants in the annual Tomatina Fiesta of Buñol in Valencia Province, Mr Pla is set on having more political tomatoes thrown at him in the form of yet another electoral defeat next March as he apparently is intent on standing once again. This despite some not inconsiderable Socialist talent buzzing around the honey pot, but without actually opting to take over the leadership of the Valencian branch of the Party. Names floated around included Carmen Alborch, fresh from her defeat by incumbent Rita Barbera as the Socialist candidate for the Mayoress of Valencia; former Public Administrations Minister Jordi Sevilla, who was freed from his ministerial job by Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero in the hope that he could shake some order into the Valencian branch of the Party, despite his stating he was not interested; and veteran Socialist Diego Macia, the former Mayor of Elche, who has long played a prominent role in the destiny of the Valencian Party. Others pointed to how former President of the Valencian Community Joan Lerma might be brought back out of mothballs to temporarily head the Valencians - at least up until the period following the General Elections.
As for the PP in all this, Party President Mariano Rajoy decided to kick off the political season by coming down to Alicante where along with Mr Camps, he visited the City of Light film studio complex, and had a look at the installations under way for the Volvo Ocean Race that leaves from the City in October next year, telling journalists that Mr Camps represented the future for the party as his calm and determined programmes for the Valencian Community have paid off handsomely, as indeed they have: a visit to Detroit when he was last in the United States has now led to Ford signing agreements clearly assuring the future for the factory at Almussafes, just outside Valencia.
Sundry Disasters
On the larger scene, the Socialists have had their ups and downs - but mostly they were downs – both nationally and internationally. On the international stage, German Chancellor Angela Merkel - the most powerful woman in the world according to a recent article in Forbes Business Review - has revealed that there is not to be the usual summit meeting between Germany and Spain this autumn as the Prime Minister has not been capable of presenting any subject of real interest. So the inexperience and lack of concern in international matters by the Prime Minister has once again managed to place Spain one rung lower in international importance. Equally, it could be said with some justification that this reaction from the German Chancellor is a form of revenge after the Prime Minister’s comment before the German elections, when he accused Mrs Merkel and her policies of being useless and outdated.
On top of that, Spain has suffered yet another humiliation when French Prime minister François Fillon stated in a television interview that the Mr Zapatero had told him the he regretted the mass legalization of immigrants, as it not only led to fresh waves trying to get in, but also provoked the anger of French President Jacques Chirac and a certain Nicolas Sarkozy, who happened to be Interior Minister at the time. All this has called into considerable question the point consistently made by the Prime Minister that he wants to be in the heart of Europe. He is hardly achieving that when the top representatives of two of the biggest powers on the Continent rather publicly turn their backs on him. As a result, it is more than evident that the relationship with France and Germany is going through the doldrums at the moment. Spain may well be a country of more than forty million inhabitants that grows at the rate of 4% annually, but all that counts for absolutely nothing if the people in charge of the nation are not really up to the task, and are incapable of undertaking any foreign initiative whatsoever other than signing agreements with two regimes that are desperate for respectability and considered outcasts and undesirables by the rest of Europe - Fidel Castro’s Cuba and the Venezuela of Hugo Chavez. France has also had the somewhat dubious privilege of meeting face to face with Pepiño Blanco, the quintessential representative of the current wave of Socialist thought in Spain. As a result, decades of hard work at building the image of the country internationally have by now come tumbling down like a pack of cards, thanks to the joint actions of the Prime Minister and his foreign Minister Miguel Angel Moratinos. Meanwhile the other real face in the Government, Finance Minister Pedro Solbes, after leaving the European Union to take over the Finance Portfolio in Spain, now seems powerless or unwilling or both to give the touch necessary to the Spanish economy to prevent a very serious financial slump. Promises of free dentistry for children and a 2,500 euro bung to any new-born baby’s family, merrily given by Socialist ministers recently, has been met with poorly hidden gloom by the Finance Minister. By and large, he inherited what was left in place by his brilliant predecessor Rodrigo Rato, and whilst claiming the current success as his own - which it isn’t - he also should be aware that the loan, finance and interest markets of the country seem almost certainly set for some rather strict adjustments, and since election time is near, any sort of adjustment simply is not politically on the cards. [And should the PP get in, the financial mess will be well under way, with the Socialists who will now be in opposition will clamour See what the right has done to our economy? When all along the fault lay with the Socialists] {If there is a collapse it will be because borrowing money is very easy in Spain, and the banks have all been very forthcoming at financing real estate projects. However with a slump in the housing market almost certain, the real estate companies will have a hard time repaying their loans on time and may seek extensions, which in turn will call into question the liquidity and profitability of the Banks, and downhill we go}
Meanwhile on the home front, things were also not going exactly according to plan for the Prime Minister. Rosa Diez, who has been a member of the Socialist party for thirty years, and was a Euro MP in representation of the PSOE, announced in September that she was resigning from the Party and joining a new one to be founded by philosopher Fernando Savater. Rather like the Socialist party in France that is now in complete disarray after its defeat in the Presidential elections after the failed campaign by Segolène Royal, in Spain defections to other parties now seem the order of the day. Rosa Diez, however, is known for not exactly keeping quiet, and stated in a wide-ranging interview, that she was leaving the party as she totally disagreed with the plans of the Prime Minister for a confederal state. She also stated that she failed to understand why heads were not rolling within the party after the electoral defeat last May in the Madrid Community, yet when the Basque terror group ETA stated that the ceasefire was over, there was no change of approach by the Cabinet, and the attitude appeared to be Oh well, that’s it then - the end of an idea and yet no one was removed from any important position. Rosa Diez is now set to join the Basta Ya Party, whose membership has increased by 25% since Mrs Diez made her announcement. However, in this case Basta Ya seems to mean Enough [of the Prime Minister] Already, and not as was meant when it was founded - Enough [ETA killings] Already.
Then there’s the case of another Rosa - this time Rosa Regas, the head of the National Library, who was appointed to the job by Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero on May of 2004. A prize-winning author in her own right, and dubbed a Chevalière of the Legion of Honour in November of 2005, Miss Regas just seemed quite incapable of undertaking what she had been called on to do: supervise and preserve the national treasures in the Library. She announced that she was pulling out of her job, as her immediate boss - the Minister of Culture - had no confidence in her, which is not really surprising considering she managed to lose a Mapa Mundi that was in the Library dating from Roman times. Although she stated that she knew who had taken it, this did still not conceal the fact that as a general rule creative people and authors are amongst this sector, are usually not suited to take up administrative positions, no matter what the PR value may be. However, as the Regas Reign came to an end, she attempted by justify both her nomination and her position as a Socialist by making statements to the press such as The greatest thing that happened to Spain since the death of Franco was the defeat of Jose Maria Aznar in 2004, all of which seemed a desperate attempt to give some respectability and justification to her appointment.
In another disappointment for the government, Josu Jon Imaz, the moderate president of the main Basque party PNV, resigned from the party in mid September leaving the way clear for the hard-liners, including the Lehendakari Juan José Ibarretxe, to champion (an unlawful) referendum, to seek independence for the region.
All this just adds fuel to the fire and further bears out the point of view of an editorialist in a recent edition of the Wall Street Journal, by writing: Under previous Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar, Spain took a lead in the Mediterranean and, following its investors in Latin America. Then along came the change of political leadership and the inheritance of international capital was fast whittled away. In a matter of days, Mr Zapatero took Spain from a front-line state to a backwater, with the new Prime Minister going out of his way to poke Washington in the eye. In return, Spain gets no hearing from the most powerful country in the world. Maybe the Prime Minister just fails to care, but opinion articles of this sort in respectable publications do nothing to reset the values of the country that Zapatero has so badly damaged.
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Peter Gooch,
Editor - Valencia Life
www.valencialife.net |
Toot Toot Topillo |
| A village in the northern province of Palencia recently came up with a plan to get rid of the plague of moles which has been hampering local farmers for the past season. Some members of the tiny village of Villotilla decided on emulating the Pied Piper of Hamelin with a fiesta to attract a flautist whose music might persuade the critters to go and dig elsewhere, or better still, jump into the river and drown. In the event, about a hundred appropriately dressed flautists from all over Castilla and Leon, together with their lady doncellas, arrived on Sunday 16th of September to blow the rodents away. The village-folk turned out in the best and most festive rags. Some of the local children, cunningly disguised as mice, allowed themselves to be chased into the river, followed by more than one satisfied musician. 'Only up to our ankles' said one sodden child later. A good time was had by all.
As yet, no word from the moles. Or maybe they were voles. Perhaps it worked and they all decided to leave for quieter pastures...
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Ever Dream of Owning a Yatch |
If you are super rich forget it. Yachts are now passe. The luxury submarine has overtaken the yacht in the stable of must have toys of the really rich. There are now over one hundred luxury submarines around the world. The ocean floor is the last frontier of the rich. Compared to the $150 million one could easliy spend on a yacht, $20 million for a submarine is a bargain!
Most subs can carry ten plus passengers. They’re usually over 25 meters in length, three stories tall with five staterooms, five bathrooms, 2 kitchens and a wine cellar. The range is around 3,000 nautical miles and you can stay down for week. Mind you cruising the ocean floors of the seven seas is not without hazard. If you are near the coastline of a country you are supposed to notify the authorities. If you don’t you could be blown to pieces by a depth charge.
The other day while patrolling in the eastern Pacific, a US Coast Guard drug-surveillance aircraft spotted a submarine on the surface of the ocean. The U.S. Customs, the Border Patrol and the U.S. Navy were called in. They managed to intercept the vessel before it could dive and on boarding found 6 tons of cocaine. Apparently there are several drug carrying submarines operated by the Columbian drug cartels. Could the really rich also be involved in the drug smuggling business?
In other seafaring news, there’s an armada of rubber duckies that have been floating in the seven seas since 1992 when 30,000 of the little critters were washed off the deck of a mechant ship in the Pacific Ocean. Many washed up on the shores of South America, Australia and Indonesia. Many drifted north to Alaska and Japan and even into the Artic Ocean where they covered thousands of miles while frozen into the shifting ice, poor little things, and eventually melted back out again to disperse into the Atlantic Ocean. Those little rubber duckies, made in China of course, are of interest to scientists studying the Ocean’s currents and there is a reward if you find one on a sea shore near you. There’s no word of any reaching the Mediterranian, but you never know, so keep your eyes open!
Scum Report
On the anniversary of 9/11 another bin Laden video appeared. It has become a tradition to issue a video of the last testament of one of the hijackers. This year it was the turn of Waleed al-Sheri, addressing the camera and warning the U.S. "We shall come at you from your front and back, your right and left". The Archbishop of Canterbury used the anniversary of 9/11 to defend religion against claims that it promotes violence. Dr Rowan Williams said “Jihad, or holy war, could be interpreted as a ‘struggle of the heart’ rather than the defense of the Muslim community against its enemies”. He compared 9/11 with Mahatma Gandhi’s non-violent protest movement.
At the end of his message bin Laden said: "It remains for us to do our part. So I tell every young man among the youth of Islam: It is your duty to join the caravan of martyrs and march to aid the High and Omnipotent." Sounds like Onward Christian Soldiers marching as to war… However the Jihadis are NOT God’s warriors. They are cowardly swine who would plan to destroy the lives of innocent people and impose their twisted beliefs on others who they regard as infidels. The worst thing you can say about the Christians is that they may be hypocrites but they don’t fly planes into buildings!
Connected
Don’t you find life is really speeding up. We seem to be constantly finding ways to make things move even faster. In the process are we perhaps losing our ability to think and relate to other people. Are we not becoming more and more isolated from each other. We seem to be caught up in our own personal networks whereby we can transport ourselves somewhere else at the touch of a button.
Have you noticed when sitting on the beach or lounging by the swimming pool, every couple around you has some kind of portable electronic device. They’re always talking to someone else, seldom to each other. They are wired or connected to something, but what? And it’s the same with the kids, yaking to their friends. You know what’s really annoying, is cell phones ringing in restaurants and everybody within earshot has to listen to the moronic conversations. Mind you in some restaurants in San Francisco where they used to ask you if you wanted smoking or non-smoking they now ask if you want to be seated in a phone or non-phone area.
We are now joined at the hip to our electronic devices. My son called me the other day from his laptop, he was in a Starbucks coffee shop where you can connect to the internet for free via WiFi. We never switch off or escape from the presence of others because we are constantly connected to other people. This connectedness means we have developed a culture of rapid response in which speed is sometimes considered more important than substance. We shoot off emails that are half thought out.
This connectedness is constant but our attention is only partial. We feel some kind of a need to constantly scan these digital environments in case we miss something and so leave our devices switched on. And we are always responding based on our preconceived notion of urgency rather than importance. I often wonder what this connectedness is doing to the quality of our thinking. We are now so connected, available, and never alone to reflect about what we’re doing and where we are going. Well I guess I’m really talking about myself and that’s fine!
After Words
Universities turn out people who know a great deal about very little and eff all about a great deal. Ian Hamilton QC
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The Information Highway |
Isn’t it marvellous how the kids can zip around a computer (as if it was completely natural)! Half of them can’t even spell but they can bash in a long piece of code and have the screen up and smiling before anyone over fifty can find the blasted ‘on’ button.
I tried out that line yesterday on an old farmer-type visiting from Norfolk. ‘Blast, moi old beauty,’ he was sure to tell me, ‘those noo fangled things al be the death of me’.
Only he didn’t. ‘Rubbish’, he said. ‘I’ve got all the cows on the computer, I run music through the farm buildings on my iPod and the tractors are guided by satellite’.
So much for that. However, it is true that there are few young ‘uns that can’t get something out of a computer. It’s because it seems natural to them. If it’s bust, I’m frightened to try and fix it. If it’s bust, my son will go through various programs and manoeuvres to repair it, even without knowing exactly what he’s doing. It’ll just appear natural to him.
That’s not to say I’ll let him anywhere near mine.
Computers first came useful – as far as I’m concerned – when you could write on screen, add, remove, re-write and store it to continue later. Before I had a PC, I had a kind of typewriter that showed about four words on a small screen on the keyboard. If you were a touch-typer you could, in theory, stop before the mistake got typed clickety-clack, onto the page. Ah… now you just whack it out and then go through what you’ve written a couple of times. Luxury. I know exactly how to do it as well. How to make the letters bigger, italicise, how to save it, print it, or email it. The email feature, and the Internet which comes with it, are other reasons to have a computer. I will usually leave a letter lying around for months before, with a sigh, settling down to answer it. But an email. The moment I receive it there’s an answer zipping back to my correspondent.
I can take and download a picture and I can just about ‘burn something onto a CD but that’s about my lot. I have, essentially, forged a path through the forest and as long as I don’t veer off it, my PC and I are the greatest of friends.
Later (as I return to this article – see earlier paragraph), the doorbell goes and in comes our Spanish computer expert (un nerdo, masculine) to download something and flick through the keys. A young chap, insouciant.
The Internet is a wonderful thing. It’s an infinitely large encyclopaedia or reference work, with beautiful photographs (often of other things than attractively undressed women). There is, in fact, a kind of world dictionary called Wikipedia which is in some 200 languages and which is updated by anyone who feels he is an expert. There is the advantage of the Internet over print reference. ‘Update’. A reference can be improved, changed, added to, re-written or removed in moments. My old ‘cyclopaedia’ at home on a shelf, finished in 1850, is, occasionally, way out of date.
The Internet is, of course, also a way for whackos, creeps, con men and anarchists to amuse themselves, often at our expense. In my email I receive any number of scams and viruses, the first to get my money in some way (spam, phishing and straight-up cons) and the second to damage my computer or even take over control of it. So many of these are floating about that, without some form of control, I can expect about 90% of all of my emails to be ‘malevolent’. The most irritating must be the simple ‘junk mail’ – endless letters offering one of about three things. If I didn’t want Viagra yesterday, or the day before, there’s a pretty good chance that I don’t want it today, either. So, since there can only be a finite number of people patient enough to send out millions of emails daily, with almost no hope of an answer (have you ever sent away money for these offers?) I can only wonder why they are seldom if ever arrested and why they are then not flung into jail for ever – simply because they annoyed so many people for such a long time.
Small snags in a wonderful invention. A marvellous thing my computer. As long as it doesn’t go ‘phooey’ as - this one just did...
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What Price Citizenship? |
Recently, a six foot nine former professional heavyweight boxer suggested to three young men in a posh London nightclub, that they should obey the law and put out their cigarettes. For being a good citizen, he got himself shot in the back and died from his wound.
A retired man reminded two people who allowed their dogs to mess on a children’s playground that this was just not on. For being a good citizen the next lot of dog mess came through his letterbox.
Another man jumped up from his seat in a crowded tube train to allow an obviously heavily pregnant lady his seat. For being a good citizen, he got a tongue lashing from the same lady about equality.
What Price Citizenship?
When I taught humanities in a Church of England Secondary School some years ago, a part of this subject was on ‘Good Citizenship’. Somewhat naively perhaps, I drew from my own experience from what I had myself been taught – what I did not allow for was how times have changed.
I thought I was on safe ground when I suggested it was right for a man (or boy) to hold open a door for a lady; that it was right to stand still on a street if a funeral cortege passed by; that it was bad manners to put one’s feet on a seat in a bus or train; and right to give up a seat for an older person who needed it more – and so on! Quite clearly – it being around 1973 – I was talking a different language. It was not that they were bad kids (well, most of them!) – it was just that such things were not part of their upbringing.
Now what happened to that poor boxer and the others in those examples, and there have been many others recently, is far removed from the usual way human beings behave in a community – and, of course, such occasions are still very rare if now perhaps a bit less so. What I am suggesting is that there is a trend in society, that small things lead to big ones; and a fairly insignificant way of behaviour to others can escalate, so it is a worrying trend.
Don’t Interfere!
Yes. It is easy to ‘pass by on the other side’ – to avoid being a witness to a crime or road accident for example – after all, it would be inconvenient to be called as a witness, and it might bring repercussions from a guilty party. But just think for a moment about the person who is an innocent sufferer – the recent example of young Rhys Jones in Liverpool is an outstanding example of this.
If we are to be good citizens then a lot is demanded of us in being prepared to speak up and act on behalf of others, our fellow citizens. It is a clear fact that if we do, all of us, remonstrate with those whose words or actions are offensive, then they would soon stop. As I say, violent reactions are extremely rare although, sadly, a vocal response is now far more common!
And It Pays to Complain!
There is another side to all this – that we are not very good at complaining if we receive bad service. Well, that is most of us – of course there are those who never stop complaining, and we all come across them as we did on our recent holiday where one couple made the life of the holiday reps a misery.
Some time ago, I was staying at a hotel in London which boasts the certainty of a good night’s sleep – but that night was far from it – as for several hours messages arrived (actually from the premises next door) that ‘there is an intruder, prepare to evacuate’. Of course it was a false alarm, but we received little in the way of an apology. Several of us complained and suggested that it was worth something in the way of compensation – nothing happened at the time, but later I did receive tokens off another stay.
On another occasion I discovered a beetle in a meat pie I had bought – I took it back and complained. The assistant asked me what I expected her to do about it. I resisted the temptation to say ‘don’t tell everyone or they’ll all want one’. I insisted on seeing the head of department and then things really happened fast – an immediate offer to replace the pie, which for some reason I declined, plus a ten pound voucher to spend in the store, and later a further thirty pound voucher and letter of apology from Head Office. Of course, as somebody pointed out to me later, I really let that store off the hook, for if I had taken the offending pie to Environmental Health, they really would have copped it!
Where is All This Leading?
So, ‘What Price Citizenship?’ Perhaps we could, readers and contributors alike, take part in an interesting exercise – to spend a few minutes writing down our TEN POINTS OF A GOOD CITIZEN or if you like, TEN THINGS YOU HATE AND FIND ANTISOCIAL.
I would love to hear your responses – sent to me by email if you like, and next month I will tell you how they compare with mine!
Until then – God Bless
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Fascination with things Spanish caused the South Sea Bubble |
A certain good old worthy ‘rich in lands’
Keeping his servants’ wages in his hands
Bought South Sea Stock when they knew nothing of it
Sold it when high, and gave to them the profit.
Known as the South Sea Bubble, the first great stock market crash in history happened in the City of London in 1720 in a climate of mass hysteria, political corruption and public upheaval. It came about as a result of the English fascination with things Spanish. Countless individuals lost personal fortunes in a wave of stock speculation that occurred during six months of furious activity. In fact several bubbles occurred as fraudulent joint-stock companies took advantage of the mania.
Diplomatic relations between England and Spain going back centuries had often been cemented by marriages between the two crowns. The present day British and Spanish royal families count Queen Victoria amongst their ancestors. Relations had evidently soured around the time of the Armada. Nevertheless, Elizabeth’s successor James I endeavoured to mend the fences. He tried and failed to arrange the marriage of his son, the future Charles I to a Spanish princess.
Commercial interest between England and Spain had always been valued with a consistently healthy balance of payments surplus in the English favour. In addition, smuggling or illegal commerce with the Spanish Colonies in the New World offered huge attractions as well as potential sources of conflict. The Crown of Castile consistently claimed and defended its monopoly with the overseas empire. It controlled all trade through the port of Seville and strictly reserved participation for the subjects of the Crown of Castile with just one excepted area, the supply of slaves. The monarchy permitted its subjects to own but forbade them to engage in the slave trade. The crown contracted the supply of slaves first to the Portuguese then the French, followed them by the Dutch before finally turning to the British. The Elizabethans wished to participate. In 1566, Hawkins and nephew Francis Drake set out on the first of three voyages from Plymouth. They sailed to West Africa, captured natives, transported them across the Atlantic and sold the hapless wretches into slavery in the Spanish Colonies at a spectacular profit. Thus began British participation in the slave trade.
Perfidious Albion
The year 1711 saw the flotation of the South Sea Company in London with a monopoly of all trade to the South Seas. At the time the British together with the Austrians and the Dutch were engaged in the War of the Spanish Succession fought in order to keep the French-backed claimant off the throne of Spain. Great Britain prolonged the war in order to secure el asiento, the contract for trade and the supply of slaves, and conducted separate peace negotiations behind the backs of its Dutch and Austrian allies. The terms agreed, the British left their allies in the lurch. After that example of duplicity our country became known abroad as Perfidious Albion and British statesmen acquired the reputation of being untrustworthy.
The Spanish negotiators were more than a match for the English. They drew up the asiento in terms which made profits difficult to come by. Some slave trade voyages were made but these produced meagre returns. However, it mattered nought that the initial operations yielded little. The prospects of benefits from the trade with Spain’s rich colonies in South America dazzled speculators. Readily convinced by arguments about the incredible prosperity that lay ahead, they sought confirmation in the fortunes accumulated in the past.
International finance had become a matter of crucial importance by the early 1700s. In France, a maverick Scot called John Law was manipulating public credit and his Mississippi Company enjoyed a monopoly of French trade to North America. He connived to drive the price of his company’s stock up. English capital crossed the Channel to be invested in France and many wished to see action to halt the diversion. By 1719 the directors of the South Sea Company had decided to follow the example of John Law. They wished to drive the value of their own share prices up and rival the Bank of England, which had been set up in 1694. The South Sea Company proposed to assume the entire public debt of the British government.
The company influenced prominent politicians by bribery and on April 12th 1720 the government accepted the proposal of the South Sea Company. Bribes were paid in fictitious holdings of stock. The company drove up the price of shares through artificial means. New subscriptions combined with pro trade reports regarding the Spanish colonies’ stories combined to give the impression that the value of stock could only go up. The potential for growth seemed limitless. Even wily Dutch investors put their money into South Sea Company stock.
South Sea stock steadily rose in value and attracted imitators. All manner of joint stock companies appeared hoping to cash in on the speculation mania, some honest, the majority bogus. However, they all shared a tenuous connection with the New World. Some were vague on terms but big on promise. There were scams. The prospectus for one company proposed to ‘carry on an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is’. People rushed to invest their savings. Perpetrators of the sting pocketed the proceeds and ran.
The value of stock in the South Sea Company stood at 175 pounds per share in February 1720. The price reached 380 pounds at the end of March, 520 pounds by May and peaked at just over 1000 in June. Credulity was stretched to the limit and credibility dented. The directors of the South Sea Company suddenly began to sell their own shares and others followed. Rumours circulated and the crash began. The bubble did not exactly burst, it was deflated.
Bankruptcy
By the end of August a record number of bankruptcies had occurred. By the end of September the value of stock stood at 135 pounds per share. The directors’ attempts to pump-up more speculation failed. Thousands lost fortunes. People had purchased shares on credit or margin. The bubble remained in the collective consciousness of the Western world as a byword for financial disaster until replaced by the Wall Street Crash in 1929.
Mobs demonstrated on the streets of London in 1720. Parliament was recalled and a committee of inquiry set up. What followed is familiar to us here living in the 21st century but it was the first time that things had evolved in such a recognisable way. Inquiries revealed widespread corruption and fraud among company directors, officials and friends. The key players had fled the country. Incriminating documents disappeared. We cannot avoid a sensation of deja vu. It fell to Sir Robert Walpole, recently appointed as First Lord of the Treasury to restore confidence in our financial institutions. Losses amounted to twenty million pounds. That the economy weathered such a storm speaks volumes for its resilience.
The collapse of the South Sea Company assured the position of the Bank of England. The failure of the French Mississippi Company and the schemes of John Law did lasting damage to the French financial system, the economy and the trading position. Throughout the 18th century the English had an unrivalled advantage in credit and prospered as a result. Thanks to John Law, the French had to wait for a revolution and Napoleon before establishing the Bank of France in 1800. Meanwhile, the English fascination with the Spanish colonial market continued. Frustration and continual disappointments would once again bring Spain and England into conflict in 1739. |
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"Did you have a good time?" I asked a Spanish friend who'd just got back from sus vacaciones. "Yes. It was sunny," came the reply.
Now there are some personas, of course, who think that a holiday is only a holiday si vuelves a casa with third degree sunburn, but those people no suelen ser españoles. Anyway, I'd got Juan marked down as more the nocturnal type, so I stopped to think about su respuesta and realised that - not for the first time - we were at cross purposes.
In English we've heard it said often enough that time is money. En español, sin embargo, time is weather. (Except, of course, in the contexts where time is hour - as in "¿qué hora es?" or vez - as in ¿cuántas veces te lo tengo que decir?")
Juan had heard the word "time" and interpreted my question as "¿has tenido buen tiempo?" rather than what I really meant, which was ¿Te lo has pasado bien? or ¿te has divertido?
His English is usually quite good, so perhaps it was the cliché of the Brits always talking about the weather that made him misinterpret la pregunta. Or perhaps he'd been speaking only Spanish on holiday and he'd got a bit rusty. I certainly used to find my Spanish was worse on Mondays and that was simply after el fin de semana con los amigos británicos, not the whole four week intensive of a Spanish summer which is enough to fry anyone's brain.
Brought up to a system where you take a long weekend here, maybe a week there, and a maximum of a fortnight in summer, I find the idea of un mes de vacaciones altogether too much. Still, I tried something like it this year, with una quincena en Inglaterra and then visitors in the pueblo for ten days immediately afterwards. Tenía razón: so much relax was exhausting and I've spent most of September trying to recover.
Back to the weather, though, and, as usual, the quantity of rain is headline material: despite this August being el más lluvioso de los últimos cinco años, with a rainfall of 36% above average, we are assured that the sequía continues. Casi veinte años en España, and I still don't know what the real weather pattern is like.
Even after twenty years, it's hard to break habits learned en la infancia, and I'll admit that I still rely on el tiempo as a basic fallback topic for conversation. A friend in the UK recently got her first computer at the age of 83, and every email so far exchanged has included an update on the local condiciones climáticas.
We've just been discussing the arrival of Autumn, after I read a newspaper report on the Sunday 16th of September claiming it was "el último fin de semana del verano".
Autumnal Days
The Spanish seem to go by the book - or perhaps the calendar - when it comes to the seasons, whereas I've always just gone by what the weather is doing. This year, for example, I would have said that el otoño ya había llegado; at least I thought I recognised it in the icy-cold early morning dew on the grass in the pueblo the previous weekend, even if it wasn't so apparent once the sun got higher. (Now there's a thought: if I didn't get up tan temprano, autumn might start más tarde.)
I wonder if it's different here because the Spanish seem to have una fecha for everything. I suppose it would be confusing for a Saint's day to be celebrated in summer one year and then in autumn the next just because el tiempo didn't oblige. But surely no more confusing than it was for me to find that my early June birthday - which I had always thought heralded the start of summer - was in fact still firmly a spring event. June, roses, strawberries: all vinculados con el verano in my mind. Only here, las rosas florecen all year, las fresas arrive in time for Christmas, and summer itself doesn't start till nearly July.
Of course, as with so many cultural beliefs, it's a matter of perspective, of what you learn as a child. I thought that as a Gemini - an air sign - I was associated with los nítidos cielos azules of summer, and got quite a shock when I realised that a South American friend who is also geminis felt far more affinity for the drizzly autumn air.
There are other problems which arise with the astronomical procession of the seasons. If summer starts on el veintiuno de junio, how can we explain Midsummer's Day falling on the 24th? I know British summers are short, but that's ridiculous. Similarly, if Christmas is supposed to have been adapted from the midwinter feast, how come it's only a couple of days después de empezar el invierno?
Anyway, arriving back in Madrid after the summer holidays, even if not yet after the summer, I was greeted by news of a number of weddings among friends. Most of these bodas were very quiet affairs just getting the papers in order now that the law allows civil contracts between parejas gay.
I do think they're very brave, considering that in the first quarter of 2007 "se divorciaron o separaron 6.285 parejas" - I'm not sure that's the figure for the whole country or just la Comunidad de Madrid, third highest in the Spanish rankings. According to the newspaper report - ironically I read it in 20 Minutos - that works out at three every hour. The same reportaje claims that now many young people get divorced: jóvenes "con menos de tres meses de casados y con bebés." I'm quoting directly there, and something strikes me as very odd about being married three months and already having babies.
Bueno, while my friends have been busy tying the knot, apparently the rest of the country has been off in cramped seaside flats, discovering that living in close quarters with their spouse is something they no longer want to do. The result: en septiembre se tramitan el 30% de divorcios. It seems even good weather isn't enough to save some marriages.
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| Cloudy Issue |
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Clouds have got the irritating habit of moving along, under, over, stretching, cumulating, accumulating and finally moving on to other pastures. Sometimes they burst, mainly where they are the least needed. Cloudy sky is depressing unless it holds a promise of rain. In Southern Spain the chance would be welcome. But, alas, most of our clouds are teasing atmospheric current affairs with no relief to the dry earth begging below. The few drops of rain that fell on us the other night came carried by a sirocco wind from the Sahara desert and left all the terraces, outside furniture, cars and any objects or humans standing outside looking like if Al Capone had risen from the dead and painted the town red.
We are used to the African red clouds. They have been rolling over Spain since the beginning of times. Eventually once sighs and once again we wipe the mess, pour a couple of glasses of wine, sit on chairs still faintly bloody from those drops and lean on the table that is not quite dry. People who have never been in the Sahara desert claim that the ‘desert is so romantic..’. I have been there, froze my butt at night, even inside a sheepskin sleeping bag, nearly died of thirst and caught whatever diseases you can dream of.
Romantic? As romantic as a cold fried egg.
But now we have another cloud to worry about. Contrary to the belief of the eco-greens who would have us walking instead of using our cars, world scientists have been bold enough to suggest that it is not the surplus of CO2 that is the culprit factor to the melting of the poles and the rising of the seas. It is rather an absence of technology in some ‘developing countries’, mainly Asia.
In those countries the tradition is to burn animal dung for fuel. It is there. It is free. It is infinitely renewable. It is lethal. It is a primitive form of biofuel that some politicians would like us to embrace. Let’s face it: President Lula Da Silva of Brasil (a country using sugar cane as biofuel) is on a tour of Honduras, Nicaragua, Jamaica and Panama to persuade those countries to produce biofuel from biomass. The latter being anything that is made, recently, of anything living. It won’t be a matter of ‘putting a tiger in your tank’. It will be ‘One lump or two?” instead. You could also save your dog or cat’s offerings. Another party piece might be: ‘My car got the cat by the tail’…
Asia Brown
This haze of pollution, produced by you guess what, burnt in inefficient furnaces all around Asia creates a “brown cloud” that is sometimes as much as two kilometres thick and covers an area the size of the US. Experiments conducted by Veerabhadran Ramanathan, professor of Atmospheric Sciences at Scripps Institute of Oceanography in California show that the emissions of soot and other matters from this endless burning of the proverbial garbage boosted the solar heating power by 50%.The Professor arrived at his conclusion after flying eighteen missions at various altitudes with three unmanned drones. Our Prof is not an amateur. And the brown cloud moves around. Like Chernobyl everybody gets a share. It would be more environmentally efficient to provide those so-called ‘developing’ countries with oil, natural gas and even coal. All releasing CO2 but in far less quantities than the New Zealand cows in my article of a few months ago. Not that I want to obliterate New Zealand cattle from the landscape. They are there to stay like the blot on the landscape over Southern Spain that appears every year around Xmas. Another three months from writing this and in our part of Andalucía you have to hold your kerchief on your nose and close all doors and windows. I got used to the stench over the years. But the smoke and steam from those ‘almazaras’ (olive presses) stagnate over each of the processing plant and eventually meet with the same cloud from the plant next door and so on and so on.
You can drive for three hours around Granada/Jaen/Cordoba/Antequera with the cloud of pollution over your head. To see the magnificent snow covered Sierra Nevada is a miracle from down below. In February the cloud has moved on to fresher pastures, polluting another province down the road.
In the old days each farm had an olive press.
The olives were poured into a wooden funnel and the huge stone cones crushed the olives, driven round and round by donkeys.
It was the genuine first and only virgin cold press. The pulp was used as fodder.
Cheap Oil
Nowadays we all want cheap olive oil. Like cheap flights. What we get on the cheap we pay on the roundabout. Once the genuine virgin cold press is over (and you have to take a second mortgage to afford a gallon of it) the pulp is heated up to extremely high temperatures to produce an inferior oil. The process is repeated as much as four times in plants that use a lot of energy and belch their smoke into the whole of Andalucía. What is left of the pulp is used in pet food under the attractive name of ‘delicious cod and hake’ or perhaps ‘tender morsels of turkey and prime chicken’. Ask my cats about that.
Last year, due to prevailing winds that ignored their ancient routes, the province of Cadiz, way out West facing the Atlantic, complained about the stinking cloud. It had drifted that far. Now, Cadiz is a quiet province in the marshes of the mighty Guadalquivir. Wine and Sherries are its main resources and those do not require a second or third pressing. What is left from the first press is sent to the wine lake to be mixed with all the other rejects from European vineries. It ends up in Tetra cartons with a pretty picture on the front.
The stinking cloud was on top of it nevertheless. You want globalisation? This is it in a kernel: not riches for everyone but rather everyone’s shit spread around equally. Cadiz, apart from the wretched annual cloud, has enough to cope with as it stands. There is a vile plan to build a gigantic wind farm on its coast together with a complex of five hotels, numerous golf courses and luxury housing developments on the Cabo de Trafalgar. The latter, at least, might bring some history into some Brits’ brains. There is a petition from Spanish historians and authorities to have a monument erected on the Cape of Trafalgar to commemorate the famous naval battle. El País, the Spanish daily paper, conducted a light-hearted survey amongst the British tourists around Spain. Question: “Where do you think the battle of Trafalgar took place?” Answer: “In London innit, in the square!”
Nelson must be spinning in his grave. He did not need the wind farms. He took advantage of the famous ‘poniente’, the notorious west wind, and caught that French admiral, Villeneuve, in that treacherous coast line towards Gibraltar where he finished the poorly equipped and badly manned Franco/Spanish effort. His sailors also rescued many of the French and Spanish unskilled deck hands about to drown in the sea. How is that for a globalisation effort?
Pity his victory was also his demise. But fancy being brought back to your country in a barrel of rum!! What a way to go, or come back for that matter..
In the meantime, back to our sorry century, we have to cope with issues that have nothing to do with rum.
Ignorance is the flavour of the month and politicians are playing on it. The majority of the young generation has got an IQ equal to plankton and will listen to imbecile talks from politicians who have no idea what a water tap is for.
The clouds are gathering again. The green issue is very hazy and the politicians, who are deaf to world scientists, are driving their wagons on one wheel.
As Dave, my old American friend points out: those guys are suffering from ‘hoof in mouth disease’.
And like clouds, it is spreading.
P.S. Mister Bear and Mister Gecko stories are available on www.veoveo.com Have some peace and quiet and read them to your children or grandchildren.
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| The Parish Line |
All the local charity, culture, club and association news that fits.
Please send your news and information: magazine@elindalico.com
Turre celebrates its patron saint San Francisco (Thursday October 4th) with a five day long fiesta running from Wednesday October 3rd to Sunday October 7th. Concerts, mass, lots of penny crackers.
The good people of Mojácar will appear on Canal Sur television on Monday October 1st from 9.30am on a program called ‘Mira la Vida’ which features one Andalucian pueblo in each edition. We know of some foreigners going on this one…!
Our sister paper El Indálico celebrates its one hundredth edition on November 1st, with prizes and a huge paella. More information in the next edition (number 99).
II Potagia de Magia (‘Magic Smagic’) in Carboneras. Two dates for the magic festival, Saturday September 29th, Oliverio Satisfecho brings his magic wand to the Teatro Casa de la Música from 8.00pm. A second event, with the prize winning magician Riversson will be held on Saturday October 6th.
Albox area. The Committee of APSA would like to have it known that APSA dogs are only homed by direct contact with the Homing Officer. It is not APSA policy to home dogs via markets or car boot sales and to this end we do not accept any responsibility for dogs homed in this way. The APSA Homing Officer's telephone No. is: 662 000 378. The website address is apsa-albox.com.
The Mojacar Branch of The Royal British Legion had an informative and interesting presentation recently from Lieutenant Rafael Madrid and his team from the Almería Provincial Headquarters of the Guardia Civil. Starting with the Formation and History of the Guardia Civil until the present day of particular note were their Air Sea Rescue and Mountain Rescue. Also interesting was to learn about securing Spain’s borders from drug smugglers and illegal immigrants and the corps’s environmental protection department, Seprona. Perhaps less well known are their International duties serving in Bosnia and Afghanistan and providing world wide military presence for many Spanish Embassies. In addition to the large numbers of Legion Members the speaker was ably assisted by Lenox Napier and the local Ayuntamiento was represented by Councillor Angel Medina.
Future Events. The Annual Poppy Dinner Dance on October 26th at the Hotel Continental. Visit to a Bodega at Lucar on November 8th and our AGM on the 23rd of November at the Hotel Oasis.
Membership Sec. 950 473 025 Secretary 950 475 852 Welfare 950 475 024..
The Golf Union of Wales (GUW) has appointed The Desert Springs Resort and Golf Club, the international award winning family leisure resort located in Palomares, as its Spanish Home for the warm weather winter training of its Women’s Elite squads.
Desert Springs Resort and Golf Club is the only luxury desert resort in Europe. it has the warmest, driest and sunniest winter climate on the whole of the Iberian coast and in Europe without exception. It recently won the Daily Mail Award for Best Almería Development, the Bentley International Homes Awards for Best Spanish Development and Best International Architecture, as well as the 2006 Spanish National Madera Verde Environmental Award. In 2007, The Trade Leaders Club presented its New Millennium Gastronomy Award for the Tourism, Hotel and Catering Industry to El Torrente, the resort’s leading restaurant.
Mirador del Castillo, Mojácar pueblo - Saturday 29th September, 7.00PM - Talk and photo presentation on Netsuke by Robert Fleischel. Afterwards there will be the opportunity to talk to two artists, resident in Madrid and Japan, Fumiko Negishi and Carlos Muñiz, who design excursions to Japan for small groups with cultural interests.
Robert Fleischel, whose gallery Sagemonoya in Tokyo (www.netsuke.com) is the only one in Japan specializing in Netsuke and Sagemono, counts the Princess Takamado among his collectors. She writes this about him: ‘We Netsuke lovers in Japan should be very thankful for Mr. Fleischel’s deep affection for and understanding of netsuke and sagemono. As a former collector, now a dealer, and as chapter president in Japan of the International Netsuke Society, he is irreplaceable for the promotion of netsuke and for enlarging the circle of netsuke enthusiasts. It was he who introduced my late husband, Prince Takamado, in the true sense of the word, to the world of antique netsuke’. If you have your own collector's pieces, bring them along for Robert’s comments. The entrance of 12 euros includes a vinito on your arrival, so come a little early. Tickets may be obtained at the door. Robert Fleischel is donating the proceeds of the lecture to start a fund for the purchase of a second, modern, grand piano for concerts in the Mirador del Castillo. (We know this initiative will be welcome to many!) Phone in advance (950 478 228, 655 512 345) if we can collect you from the carpark in the back of the village and deliver you up to the Mirador del Castillo. (Those staying in the Hostal El Mirador del Castillo for the weekend are invited guests. www.elcastillomojacar.com
The 8th International Symposium on Spanish Keyboard Music “Diego Fernández” 11th - 13th October 2007. Castillo de Jesús Nazareno, Garrucha ‘Domenico Scarlatti in Spain (II): The Portuguese Connection' Chairs: Gerhard Doderer (Lisbon, Portugal)- Luisa Morales (Almería, Spain). N.B. Our beloved Parador in Mojácar is being renovated. Therefore, the symposium will take place in the Castillo de Garrucha, an eighteenth century castle, 5 km. from Mojácar. Thursday, October 11. 18,00 – 19,00 Registration. 19,00 Presentation of the book: "Five Centuries of Spanish Keyboard Music". Opening Reception (Vino español). 20,30 Concert: CREMILDE ROSADO, harpsichord. Works by Lodovico Giustini and Carlos Seixas. Friday 12th October 19,30 Concert (fringe): ENSEMBLE “LE NUOVE MUSICHE” dir. Michael Eisenberg. Works by Diego Ortiz, Juan Arañés and anonymous. Saturday, October 13th. 20.30 Concert: BERNARD BRAUCHLI, clavichord and fortepiano Works by Scarlatti and Seixas. Symposium fee (including Symposium dinner) 100 euros Inscriptions: FIMTE Apdo. 212 Garrucha 04630. fimte@wanadoo.es Tel/Fax: 34-950132285
Motoépoca 07 exibition of classic cars. Valencia. October 5th to 7th with classic cars, motorcycles clubs, sports cars books and collectables. Shows include ‘Harley Davidson 1929 to 1975’ and ‘100 years of Ford’. The Aston Martin and Lotus clubs will be present with their cars together with the ‘Club Seat 600’ and the ‘El Paraguas Citroen 2CV club’. Feria Valencia. More information from rpeco@feriavalencia.com or by phone 963 861 328
My Friend Carlos’ Trip to Cadiz. November 2nd – 4th. A coach trip to witness the Volvo Masters competition at the Valderrama golf course (just two kilometres from Gibraltar). Hotel Rochemar three stars, three nights with breakfast buffet. Two days tickets to the golf. Your chance to see Tiger Woods! Total Price 270 euros (150 euros deposit). Call Carlos on 610 681 068 or 950 525 761
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I promised to let you know how my dear wife Arabella’s 80th birthday tea party went. Well it was a sparkling event with an almost equal balance of British family and friends and Spanish local worthies. The Countess of Wexham – Arabella’s fairy God-daughter Annie – who managed the event, could not be faulted. Gossamer slices of cucumber on the thinnest wafers of home made bread, exotic jams and cakes, melt-in-the-mouth scones and meringues – and tea which would have flattered the palates of Maharajahs and Chinese Emperors alike. And in all of the twenty-six years since we first set foot in our modest country abode “The Barracks”, I’ve never seen it looking so magnificent. It was as if Annie had waved her magic wand over the old place.
I have to confess too to a feeling of pride. We Brits are not always seen at our best when in the company of foreigners but I think all of my family, including feisty grand-daughter Jessie whose life is often led too much towards the modern idiom for my taste, can feel rightly proud of themselves for having struck just about the right note – friendly, attentive and hospitable but leaving just enough distance to let all the locals know that civilisation reached us several generations before it began thinking about them! Some would say that Tizzie and Tottie, our two bouncy Great Danes let the side down a bit when they debagged our German mayor Fritz Fahrtsmann – but everyone except him, and Germans are not best known for their sense of humour, took it in good part. Funnily enough he seemed even more uncomfortable when I loaned him my splendid ceremonial Scots’ Guard kilt for the rest of the party. Try as I may, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the mentality of Johnny German.
Tea for Two
But let’s change the subject and talk about another little tea party back in the old country. In a stroke of near genius Gordon Brown scored full marks with all of the Tory faithful by inviting Maggie to tea. And what is more, they obviously got on like a house on fire and had some very jolly photos taken on the steps of Number Ten! And Gordon has now commissioned a portrait of her to be placed at the head of the Downing Street stairs. Oh dear, oh dear, how is the young Pretender to Maggie’s throne going to react to that? Not, I hope with similar invitations or accolades to Tony Blair on whom he would appear to have modelled himself. I don’t think that would quite cut the mustard with those of us in the party who are still not ashamed to be called true blue Tories.
My old chum Tarquin, who in the old days was one of the important architects of Maggie’s public image, thinks Cameron’s PR boys have slipped up badly. He says that unless they can stop him flim-flamming endlessly about these lightweight issues like the environment and global warming, he doesn’t stand a chance if Gordon calls an election. He’s really got to leave all that rubbish to the ‘Ginger Beard and Sandals Brigade’ of the Liberal party and get back to more serious Conservative flagships like bringing back Hanging and Flogging and cutting back on all this extravagant ‘being nice to foreigners’ guff. Tebbit has asked Tarquin to go back over for a few weeks to see if he can do some moving and shaking along these lines – and I’m sure I’ll have more to report on this next month.
Friendly Fire
One of the most difficult things for an old soldier like me to have had to put up with over these last years is when damn fool politicians think they know how to run wars. By pretending to be four star Generals, the posturing Blair, whose only claim to soldiering was as a Lance Corporal who needed a haircut in the school CCF and his friend, the draft-dodging George Dubya, seriously debased the currency of my chosen profession – at the same time as undermining the confidence of those brave men who, as ever, have been proud to serve in our armed forces. Thank God that Gordon Brown – and here I give yet another slap to the wobbly back of our boiled pudding of a Prime Minister – is refusing to play Cowboys and Indians with the illiterate Bush and has announced that a significant number of men are about to be withdrawn from the danger of his boys’ ‘friendly fire’ in Iraq. Full marks again Gordon.
I fear that if the main protagonists of both major parties continue in their present tramlines, you may find that this old Brigadier’s soapbox may, by next month, have turned into a pedestal of much pinker hue.
But I have to say that I sincerely hope it will not come to that. So for God’s sake, David, grip up. And for God’s sake, Gordon, slip up!
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| Email: abrigtoofar@hotmail.com |
Pulp Fiction: Marcial Lafuente Estefanía |
| ‘There was a time, not very long ago, when a little book stuck out from the porter’s lodge of a building, the glove compartment of a taxi or the pocket of a worker’s overalls, not a music player or a portable console …’
From 'El mejor escritor del Oeste era español' in El Mundo.
The other day I walked into a second-hand bookstore in the centre and asked the owner if he had any copies of M.L. Estefanía books, and he snorted in what only can be described as disgust. My request was so unworthy of his highbrow bookshop that he didn’t even answer me with a monosyllabic “yes” or “no”. Shelves upon shelves of fusty, crease-marked books, stretching to the back and up beyond my reach, and not one copy of M.L. Estefanía! Second hand copies of tawdry romance novels, manifestos, historical tomes, garish Franco-era magazines, and not one copy of M.L. Estefanía, the man singularly responsible for 3,000 western novels, who continues to produce even after his death (with his son now writing under his name). 3,000 novels and counting after a 64-year legacy, and where was his work, in this tomb of resurrected books?
Marcial Lafuente Estefanía was the son of a Spanish journalist and writer. In his youth he studied industrial engineering, and in the 1920s he visited the United States for work-related reasons. In the 1930s his work was interrupted by the outbreak of the Spanish civil war, in which he fought as a republican general. With the defeat of the republic he had the opportunity to escape, but he chose to stay in Spain, and it was the during his time in prison that he began to write on pieces of scrap paper. When he was released from prison he began publishing crime and romance fiction for a small editorial, but it wasn’t until 1943 that he published his first western, La Mascota de la Pradera, or The Pet of the Prairie. With this publication he became known for the “Estefanía style” and as a skilled writer of the western genre, and this brought him a modest but important following. He dedicated the rest of his life to writing western novels.
One Book per Week
He began publishing with the Bruguera Editorial (alongside writers like Francisco Ibáñez, of Mortadelo y Filemón fame). At a breakneck pace of one novel per week he continued turning out westerns – based partly on his experiences in the United States and on re-formulated plots taken from classic Spanish literature – until 1958, when his sons also began writing under the M.L. Estefanía pseudonym. But, first they had to master Estefanía’s style, which consisted of, “sentences full of challenges … of easy triggers, Colts and Winchesters shot at point blank, women of easy virtue and quarrelsome people that provoke the sheriff”. When they first started writing with their father they tried using more description – in contrast to Estefanía’s trademark spare style – and people noticed. “That’s not Estefanía,” they said, and his sons quickly had to adapt their style: less fluffiness, less elaborate descriptions and more action! 64 years later, with over 3,000 titles published, the Estefanía legend continues.
Almost all the books I’ve seen by Estefania are exactly 96 pages long, with barebones, action-packed and dialogue-driven stories. One thing I’ve noticed is you can’t read them and look for deep meaning (if you do that, you will be extremely frustrated). Some of the stories are totally ridiculous, and lots of the time the plot will be shoehorned into a classic storyline and things will happen without any sort of explanation. What I look for when I read his stories are archetypes and style. The classic characters are all here, the fringe element, the frontiersmen, men of fortune and adventure, the noble and the wicked, the women of easy virtue, the conmen, gamblers and the righteous … It’s the romantic vision of the American wild west, through a European’s eyes. Interestingly enough, during Estefanía’s publishing heyday in the 1960s, the best Spaghetti Westerns were being made in Spain, probably giving some of the most enduring – and attractive - impressions of that period of the United States. M.L. Estefanía was easily part of this romanticizing movement.
The Gringo’s Ranch
The author of the article in El Mundo laments Spain’s inability to appreciate Estefanía, citing American culture’s lionizing of authors like Hammett and Philip K. Dick. I wouldn’t put Estefanía on that level, because both Hammett and Dick injected serious social commentary into popular fiction. Estefanía has absolutely no social commentary that I can think of. His characters are cartoonish, and the situations he puts them in are arbitrary and conventional. For example, in El Rancho del Gringo, or The Gringo’s Ranch, the protagonist single-handedly fights a gang of quarrelsome roughnecks terrorizing a frontier town. In Rambo-like fashion he builds a bow and arrow and picks them off one by one. Of course, he’s tall, ruggedly handsome and irresistible to women. He’s also a man with principles and a bastion of macho ibérico ethos:
She looked at him, astonished.
“Have you guys finished with Bonanza and his team?”
“Yes.”
“On the frontier, when they get news of this, they will raise a statue as proof of gratitude.”
“This nightmare is over. And it will be necessary to do the same with Clark and those that are like him.”
“Leave them alone.”
“Look, Sussie. The most hateful thing in a woman is that she asks the man she loves to be a coward.”
Sussie’s mind went ‘white like the snow’.
She didn’t dare say anything. (From The Gringo’s Ranch)
A friend of mine used to use the “Johnny Cash litmus test” on people, where he’d off-handedly ask whether someone liked Johnny Cash. “Yes” or “no” would decide that person’s friendship status. Take Estefania with you to a café, read his fictions of daring men and loose women, and observe people walking by. You can almost certainly tell what kinds of people you’re with by watching their reactions. Invite people to your house and watch their reactions to your strategically placed copy of Estefania on the coffee table. A snort of disproval or a word of appreciation will tell you much more about that person than a lengthy discussion of, say, Cortazar, where people usually dare not to disagree. To openly appreciate Estefania is un desafio, a challenge to the bookish elite. So, I pose the question: Hey guiri, hey artista, do you dig Estefania?
I Had to Kill Him
You’ll see his pulp fiction classics in flea markets, in discount trays in front of secondhand bookstores for 50 cents a copy, every so often in the grimy hands of an old man sitting on a bench, but you’ll never see them in bookstores which hold a pretense to “high art”, or on bookshelves next to Calderón, García Márquez, or, for that matter, Cervantes. One day that’ll probably change when someone discovers him. Quentin? If you read this, it’s all you.
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Household Pets with David The Dogman |
| Petting Puppies Puts People in Positive Picture
The next time a dog comes bounding up to you for a wet, sloppy kiss and a good belly rub, dont back away. In an ongoing study, a University of Missouri-Columbia researcher has found that interacting and petting animals creates a hormonal response in humans that can help fight depression.
"Our preliminary results indicate that levels of serotonin, a hormone in humans that helps fight depression, rise dramatically after interaction with live animals, specifically dogs," said Rebecca Johnson, (University of Missouri-Columbia) professor of nursing and veterinary medicine, who presented these initial findings at the Companion Animals: Fountains of Health conference at Barcelona Autonomous University last month. "This hormone is critical in the psychological well-being of an individual. In addition, we have discovered that there is no substitute for the real thing."
In her study, Johnson, along with Richard Meadows, clinical associate professor of veterinary medicine, is asking dog owners and non-pet owners to play with a live animal or a robot dog for a few minutes at a time. Johnson draws blood from the human and the dog prior to and after the interaction and then compares the blood for hormone levels. People taking part in the study ranged in age from 19 to 73. Preliminary results indicate a significant increase in the levels of serotonin following interaction with the live dog, Johnson said.
"In addition to serotonin, we also are seeing increases in the amounts of prolactin and oxytocin, more of those `fenes," Johnson said. "Our research also is trying to determine what types of people would best benefit from being with animals. By showing this benefit, we can help pet-assisted therapy become a medically accepted intervention that might be prescribed to patients."Preliminary results indicate that levels of serotonin, a hormone in humans that helps fight depression, rise dramatically after interaction with live animals, specifically dogs," said Rebecca Johnson, MU professor of nursing and veterinary medicine, who presented these initial findings at the Companion Animals: Fountains of Health conference at Barcelona Autonomous University last month. "This hormone is critical in the psychological well-being of an individual. In addition, we have discovered that there is no substitute for the real thing."
Overcoming Pet Obesity
Is your pet portly? Is your cat fat? According to a recently publicized study, about 25 percent of pets in the Westernized world are overweight, and Kansas State University veterinarian Dr. Susan Nelson, assistant professor at the Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital, wants pet owners to be aware that obesity among pets is becoming more and more common.
Just like humans, pets have become lazy over time, she said; they don't get adequate exercise and they overeat. This is partly due to the pet owner's routine and lack of motivation to keep their pet lean. But a major problem is the pet foods on the market these days, Nelson said. While the food is quite tasty and extremely palatable, it is also calorie-packed.
"Pets tend to gobble these foods right up," Nelson said. "It might taste good, and be nutritious, but the extra calories are not good for them."
Nelson said many pet owners do free-choice feeding, rather than following the proper guidelines according to the pet's size and weight. She advises pet owners to feed the correct amount for their pet's ideal weight. She also says to watch for the "light" foods because they are not always truly "light."
"Some of the pet foods are fairly liberal with their recommended feeding amounts," Nelson said. "If problems arise with a pet's weight, the owner should see their vet."
Nelson doesn't see the tendency toward obesity lessoning in the future despite the introduction of several weight-reducing diets, such as Hills MD (an Atkins-type diet for cats). She said another contribution to obesity is that pet owners give their pet treats too often.
"Everybody likes to give their pet a treat. It feels good," she said. "It is important to restrict the amount of treats, though, and maybe give them vegetables instead, or split a treat in half."
Another common problem leading to obesity is lack of exercise. Nelson sees more indoor pets that are obese than outdoor pets. She said some pet owners think that since they have a backyard, their pet is getting exercise, but that's not usually the case. It is good to play fetch, take walks once or twice a day and provide several toys for the pet to occupy time with. Nelson said too many fatty foods and not enough exercise would no doubt cause obesity problems.
"I can't overemphasize the importance of exercise. The pet cannot stay lean by a diet alone," Nelson said. "Plus, exercising benefits both the owner and the dog."
As animals get older they are often more prone to obesity due to medical reasons, such as low thyroid and Cushing's disease, Nelson said. Being overweight is a risk factor for diabetes, heart disease, skin fold diseases, pancreatitis and the worsening of arthritis symptoms. Nelson said it's important to look at your pet's body condition and watch for signs of obesity.
"The sooner you nip it in the bud, the better," she said. "Addressing the issue when they've gained only a couple of pounds is better than when they've become extremely obese."
K-State veterinarians say that you can't always tell by looking if your pet is too plump. But if you run your hands firmly along your pet's sides, you should be able to feel the ribs easily. If you can't -- especially on a cat -- the animal is probably overweight.
I'm Still Here
Friend, please don't mourn for me
I'm still here, though you don't see.
I'm right by your side each night and day
and within your heart I long to stay.
My body is gone but I'm always near.
I'm everything you feel, see or hear.
My spirit is free, but I'll never depart
as long as you keep me alive in your heart.
I'll never wander out of your sight-
I'm the brightest star on a summer night.
I'll never be beyond your reach-
I'm the warm moist sand when you're at the beach.
I'm the colorful leaves when fall comes around
and the pure white snow that blankets the ground.
I'm the beautiful flowers of which you're so fond,
The clear cool water in a quiet pond.
I'm the first bright blossom you'll see in the spring,
The first warm raindrop that April will bring.
I'm the first ray of light when the sun starts to shine,
and you'll see that the face in the moon is mine.
When you start thinking there's no one to love you,
you can talk to me through the Lord above you.
I'll whisper my answer through the leaves on the trees,
and you'll feel my presence in the soft summer breeze.
I'm the hot salty tears that flow when you weep
and the beautiful dreams that come while you sleep.
I'm the smile you see on a baby's face.
Just look for me, friend, I'm everyplace! |
| Extracted from David the Dogman's A-Z Guide to Dogs © copyright www.thedogman.net |
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Feedback |
Siesta Hours
Dear Sir: Regarding your article on the Spanish siesta. Just for the record, business open from nine to five? Where? Not in Madrid, Barcelona, Bilbao, Valencia, or any of the big bustling business cities. Eight to three is in the summer when the heat makes it advisable. With a few exceptions I cannot remember when work was nine till two and four till seven. Those were the Franco days, and he's been dead over 30 years. Nothing to do with the European Union, the change came slowly and it was initially known as the "semana inglesa", which actually meant no work on Saturdays. It was common sense when Spain started trading with other nations to be available when they were. Of course trade hours can be different but that depends on the trade, the area and the shoppers. In Madrid they tend to open from ten in the morning to nine pm or longer depending on the size of the business.
Maria,
Madrid
Dear Sir: It’s not just the siesta that keeps Spain 'different' (Franco's phrase). There are winter hours día partida (10-2 and 5-9), summer hours jornada intensiva (8-3), national, regional and local fiestas, etc. All of this helps to keep you on your toes. The Internet does stop some fruitless errands, but not all. At least it's an excuse for a coffee and a chat in the local bar.
C.I.
Manilva, Málaga
Danger
Dear Sir, Recently my granddaughter and children were visiting me, and called in Thomas’ supermarket on Mojácar Playa.
As my daughter was paying at the cash-point, the person behind her took the dummy out of the mouth of the little one, put it in her own mouth, sucked on it a few times and went to give it back to the child. Fortunately my daughter grabbed it first and was shocked that anyone would be so stupid as to do such a thing.
We do not know who this person was but just hope that she has not got an infectious condition, particularly Aids, which could be passed on.
If she reads this I hope she realises what a senseless and disgusting thing she did.
A Concerned Nan
NNEB qual. Nursery Nurse.
Club Taurino de Mojácar
Hi Lenox, The meeting held on 28th August was attended by over 20 people and featured an illustrated talk by Ric Polansky about the various passes made by a torero during the course of a faena (bullfight). Also discussed were the various signals given by the president during a faena to control the conduct of the participants.
Some of the club members are new to the fiesta nacional and one of the objectives of the Club Taurino is to explain the history and origens of the procedures followed in the plaza de toros and therefore help in the understanding and enjoyment of this most Spanish event which seems to be growing in popularity each year with more plaza de toros being built each year throughout Spain.
This was followed by some videos of unusual incidents in some recent corridas including an outstanding video of a rejones (fighting on horseback) by the young Portugese rejoneador, Diego Ventura using many unorthadox and exciting moves. The horsemanship and ability of horse and rider in these events is truly astonishing.
The meeting concluded with lunch whereby every member contributed a dish to share compartir, washed down with some very good vino espanol.
On the 11th September the club visited the Plaza de Toros in Vera and enjoyed a conducted tour of the plaza showing the chapel, the infirmary, the butchers shop and of course the toril (the pre-fight bull pen). Most members were amazed at the complexity and attention to detail of what goes on "behind the scenes."
The fiesta of St Cleophas in Vera was the reason for a series of three corridas held at the Plaza de Toros in Vera featuring some of the most famous and talented matadores and rejoneadores in Spain today. The club was well represented at each of the events, terminating as usual at a local restaurant frequented by leading participants past and present in the fiesta nactional.
The next meeting of the Club Taurino de Mojácar will be on 27th September, starting at 12.30, which again will follow the pattern of bring a plate of food to share. All are welcome and membership is free, for further details please contact Mike Hathaway by email; myromakeha@telefonica.net
Mike Hathaway,
Mojácar Buying with Confidence
Dear Sir, We have followed articles over the months regarding Spanish property and would like to submit for your attention a service which we think may be of considerable value to both the buyer and the seller in reestablishing confidence in negociations. Our service helps eliminate the dangers of dishonest practise by empowering the buyer with more information about a property once they have seen it. The seller may also benefit by presenting this information about a property to prospective buyers at the outset.
Although the Official Cadastral service is nothing new, having been developed in 2003, it is not an easy webservice to use. Nonetheless it provides an invaluable service; providing security to the real estate sale procedure.
The Official Catastro Service itself claims the following:
·It enables to issue cadastral information, avoids inconveniences of citizens going to the Catastro offices to obtain the needed data. In addition, this information is obtained at no cost.
·It enables to fulfill legal obligations of the citizens, eliminating unnecessary proceedings and streamlining procedures.
·It eliminates most routine and tedious work in the departments of public attention of the catastro offices.
·It reinforces the exchange of information with administrations and institutions collaborating with Cadastre.
Our web version at www.maps.data-spain.com/cadastral is easy to use, having been developed specifically to lookup official Spanish property registry (catastro) deeds and to find other Spanish property information: exact map location, altitude, land area, and distances. Buyers can double check the official records against the details presented by the seller. Sellers can present the official records to the interested buyer.
Rupert Windle
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Equity Release Warnings
Gwilym Rhys-Jones
Adviser and Investigator
Costa del Sol Action Group
http://www.costa-action.co.uk/
There are various Equity Release products on offer in Spain which purport to provide a safe release of capital. The loan is provided by banks such as Landsbanki, Danske, Mees Pierson, ABN Amro, HSBC and Rothschild.
The Spanish versions would never be recommended in the UK as they all fail to meet the safeguards recommended by the UK’s Financial Services Authority (“FSA”) or those standards recommended by SHIP (see www.ship-ltd.org.). Unfortunately Equity Release in Spain is unregulated, unlike in the UK.
In the UK, when the loan is made, you can spend the monies exactly as you wish. This is not the case with the Spanish arrangements whereby you can only use a proportion, usually up to 25% of the monies. The other 75% or so must be invested and used as security for the loan, alongside a charge or mortgage on your property in Spain.
Despite the Spanish sales brochures, you are at risk to lose your home which makes the Spanish schemes of high risk. Some IFAs and lenders skirt around this real risk by making statements such as:
“The annual interest... is paid from the income produced from the investments.”
“…the loan can only be called in if you are in breach of the terms and conditions of the loan.”
This is misleading. In Spain, unlike the UK, you must meet the interest repayments. In the UK there are no interest payments to be | |
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