Chronicles of the Virus Day 15
Well, that's that. My husband is staying at home from now on.
Last night, it was declared that only essential workers should continue working. That doesn't include construction workers. From Monday till April 9th, everyone unessential stays home. (I don't know why the arbitrariness of the 9th; it's a Thursday.) But my husband doesn't know if he should go on Monday or not. It seems they started to undo a roof and the house is uncovered. They may need to temporarily cover it, which they would do in the first hours of Monday morning.
Oh, there's plenty to do at home. There's too much to do at home. Still, there's also time for play.
The weather continues fine, but the temperatures are supposed to go down from tomorrow onward. There might even be a light frost on Monday night. Now, after putting in the potatoes. With all the trees that have or are flowering. Normality is being sorely missed.
What is normal is the presence of smugglers in our inlet. Once upon a time, this used to be the entryway of drugs to the European Union. Now, traffic has gone south, to the beaches of western Andalucía, but there's still a regular trickle through here. One would think that with the confinement, and the obviously lessened traffic, both maritime and terrestrial, that smugglers would be more circumspicious. Um, no.
The night before last, two semi-rigid boats swung into the inlet of Arousa, pursued by helicopter and police boats. The first dropped its cargo in the sea, ran up onto a beach, and its two men melted into the dark Galician night. The second was stopped at the mouth of the Umia river, down in Cambados, and the two entrepreneurs on it were caught. Three tons of cocaine have been recovered. I suppose, that even in quarantine, demand is still pretty high, so they decided to risk it. Checkmate.
On a lighter note, for some residents of my town, it was festa night. The singer and owner of a band that travels from festa to festa live in an apartment with a terrace, where they keep some instruments. So, yesterday evening, they regaled the neighborhood with a verbena, a performance. I think they're doing the same today. Hey, the Holy Week fiesta in nearby Padrón has been cancelled, so the neighbors can at least pretend they're going. Now, they just have to cook the octopus and serve it like the travelling vendors serve it in their tent restaurants, and wash it down with some red wine. And I think there are frozen churros for sale in the supermarkets, too. And chocolate. Holy Week 2020. Instead of going to the festa, the festa came to them.
In Asturias, the traditional drink is hard cider. The way it's served, is to hold the bottle high above the glass and let the liquid fall hard and aerate. One neighbor took it to extremes, letting it fall from his floor to the floor below him, where another neighbor was holding the glass. I think it was aerated to optimal perfection.
You can tell it's Sunday and confinement. There are no cars. Everything is completely still, the breeze is gently rocking the trees, and the sun is warm and inviting. So, I'll take the book I'm reading and go sit on my back step. Later, I'll sit on my front step when it's closer to sunset. I might even go for a very solitary walk in the woods, if I feel sure no one is out there. Just seize the day.
Carpe diem. The Romans knew what they were talking about.
Life continues.
Last night, it was declared that only essential workers should continue working. That doesn't include construction workers. From Monday till April 9th, everyone unessential stays home. (I don't know why the arbitrariness of the 9th; it's a Thursday.) But my husband doesn't know if he should go on Monday or not. It seems they started to undo a roof and the house is uncovered. They may need to temporarily cover it, which they would do in the first hours of Monday morning.
Oh, there's plenty to do at home. There's too much to do at home. Still, there's also time for play.
The weather continues fine, but the temperatures are supposed to go down from tomorrow onward. There might even be a light frost on Monday night. Now, after putting in the potatoes. With all the trees that have or are flowering. Normality is being sorely missed.
What is normal is the presence of smugglers in our inlet. Once upon a time, this used to be the entryway of drugs to the European Union. Now, traffic has gone south, to the beaches of western Andalucía, but there's still a regular trickle through here. One would think that with the confinement, and the obviously lessened traffic, both maritime and terrestrial, that smugglers would be more circumspicious. Um, no.
The night before last, two semi-rigid boats swung into the inlet of Arousa, pursued by helicopter and police boats. The first dropped its cargo in the sea, ran up onto a beach, and its two men melted into the dark Galician night. The second was stopped at the mouth of the Umia river, down in Cambados, and the two entrepreneurs on it were caught. Three tons of cocaine have been recovered. I suppose, that even in quarantine, demand is still pretty high, so they decided to risk it. Checkmate.
On a lighter note, for some residents of my town, it was festa night. The singer and owner of a band that travels from festa to festa live in an apartment with a terrace, where they keep some instruments. So, yesterday evening, they regaled the neighborhood with a verbena, a performance. I think they're doing the same today. Hey, the Holy Week fiesta in nearby Padrón has been cancelled, so the neighbors can at least pretend they're going. Now, they just have to cook the octopus and serve it like the travelling vendors serve it in their tent restaurants, and wash it down with some red wine. And I think there are frozen churros for sale in the supermarkets, too. And chocolate. Holy Week 2020. Instead of going to the festa, the festa came to them.
In Asturias, the traditional drink is hard cider. The way it's served, is to hold the bottle high above the glass and let the liquid fall hard and aerate. One neighbor took it to extremes, letting it fall from his floor to the floor below him, where another neighbor was holding the glass. I think it was aerated to optimal perfection.
You can tell it's Sunday and confinement. There are no cars. Everything is completely still, the breeze is gently rocking the trees, and the sun is warm and inviting. So, I'll take the book I'm reading and go sit on my back step. Later, I'll sit on my front step when it's closer to sunset. I might even go for a very solitary walk in the woods, if I feel sure no one is out there. Just seize the day.
Carpe diem. The Romans knew what they were talking about.
Life continues.
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