Chronicles of the Virus Day 23
Yesterday afternoon, I picked up my pastels, though only in pencil form. I haven't touched them since last September, and I'd forgotten how difficult, how rewarding, and how exacting they are. I started to paint a portrait of one of my cats. I must have been at it for about an hour before I looked up, unaware of how much time had passed. I should continue this afternoon, when the hours seem the longest.
I should also look to continue writing my story. It would help very much if I could go visit the areas where my characters are passing through, but I can't, so I have to work from memory. That means that, later, I will most likely have to rewrite certain scenes. I suppose that is what is blocking me. I haven't written since the beginning of quarantine. But I should have a go at it, anyway, and see where I end up. It will be better than pouting, and I might get an idea.
My husband was paid last Friday, so today I need to put money in our daughter's account and go get some more fruit. I should also stock up on paper towels, coffee, olive oil, cat food, and I don't really know what else. The bad news is it seems we might run out of fresh fruit and produce.
Farms generally rely on migrant workers to harvest their crops. Either those workers come from other European countries, such as Bulgaria, Poland, or Romania, or from Morocco. Some workers also come from different areas of Spain. Then, there are also the illegal immigrants that search for a simple job to make some money. But this year, those migrant workers aren't coming.
To be sure, those workers were never paid decent salaries, especially the Moroccan and the illegal immigrants. One of the rallying cries of the vomitive right-wing Vox was that those migrants were taking good jobs away from decent Spanish citizens that were unemployed. But now it seems that no decent unemployed Spanish citizens (of which there are plenty in this quarantine) are willing to harvest strawberries or asparagus for peanuts.
Even if the farms were to pay decent wages, those are hard jobs that few are willing to do. My daughter picked blueberries last August. She wanted a job doing something on a farm, and she found that one. She didn't hate it, but she didn't love it, either. She loved most of the people she met, but discovered that harvesting fruit was tougher than what it had seemed. Between the chill of early morning, and the pummeling of the afternoon sun, she was fried. If she wound up filling the containers with blueberries, the berries became a blur to her eyes. It's not an easy job. Besides, she only worked on fair weather days, and holidays and weekends were not kept. Few Spaniards want to work in those conditions. So, migrants are very necessary in the agricultural sector. And they should all get decent salaries.
I'll leave here a compilation of videos of people getting extremely bored with their confinement. The commentary is in Spanish, but I think most of these are quite universal.
Life continues.
I should also look to continue writing my story. It would help very much if I could go visit the areas where my characters are passing through, but I can't, so I have to work from memory. That means that, later, I will most likely have to rewrite certain scenes. I suppose that is what is blocking me. I haven't written since the beginning of quarantine. But I should have a go at it, anyway, and see where I end up. It will be better than pouting, and I might get an idea.
My husband was paid last Friday, so today I need to put money in our daughter's account and go get some more fruit. I should also stock up on paper towels, coffee, olive oil, cat food, and I don't really know what else. The bad news is it seems we might run out of fresh fruit and produce.
Farms generally rely on migrant workers to harvest their crops. Either those workers come from other European countries, such as Bulgaria, Poland, or Romania, or from Morocco. Some workers also come from different areas of Spain. Then, there are also the illegal immigrants that search for a simple job to make some money. But this year, those migrant workers aren't coming.
To be sure, those workers were never paid decent salaries, especially the Moroccan and the illegal immigrants. One of the rallying cries of the vomitive right-wing Vox was that those migrants were taking good jobs away from decent Spanish citizens that were unemployed. But now it seems that no decent unemployed Spanish citizens (of which there are plenty in this quarantine) are willing to harvest strawberries or asparagus for peanuts.
Even if the farms were to pay decent wages, those are hard jobs that few are willing to do. My daughter picked blueberries last August. She wanted a job doing something on a farm, and she found that one. She didn't hate it, but she didn't love it, either. She loved most of the people she met, but discovered that harvesting fruit was tougher than what it had seemed. Between the chill of early morning, and the pummeling of the afternoon sun, she was fried. If she wound up filling the containers with blueberries, the berries became a blur to her eyes. It's not an easy job. Besides, she only worked on fair weather days, and holidays and weekends were not kept. Few Spaniards want to work in those conditions. So, migrants are very necessary in the agricultural sector. And they should all get decent salaries.
I'll leave here a compilation of videos of people getting extremely bored with their confinement. The commentary is in Spanish, but I think most of these are quite universal.
Life continues.
I'm happy you are creating art and going to write. Here in France they have the same problem without the migrant workers. There have been announcements on TV that they are looking for people and provided a website. My partner volunteered to help in any capacity and was told, "We are only looking for people with experience." Right. That would be those migrant workers who can't get here...
ReplyDeleteThere's always a catch 22.
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