The Come-Back, Day 19. Shifting Sands of Change.
In every town there's a store that everyone has gone to at one time or another. It carries just about everything, and has reasonable prices. The owners are always to be seen attending to customers, even if there are other shop assistants. It's a place where you've been taken by your grandparents, and where you take your children. In our town, there's such a store. It's called Encarnita Moda.
It had a long history. It was open since 1951 and closed just at the end of last November. The owners, Juan and Encarnita, were always there; it didn't matter that they had retired.
You could wander in naked, and wander out dressed from top to bottom. They sold underwear, shoes, socks, clothes both for adults and children, coats, jackets, hats, yarn for crochet and knitting, buttons, zippers, thread, patches, embroidery floss, elastic, ribbon, hooks and clasps, sheets, blankets, bed spreads, towels, sewing needles, knitting needles, and crochet needles. And probably much more. In the beginning years, they even sewed clothes.
Everyone my age has gone to that store to buy track suits for gym class at school every year. Every parent has gone there to buy clothes for their children. Every adult has gone there to buy clothes for their parents. Everyone has gone there to buy some article of clothing of superior quality. In later years, chain stores and internet have won over local stores, but Encarnita always had customers.
They opened up a shoe shop just across the street some years ago, and a son manned it, but it didn't prosper, so they closed it and transformed it into a café. Just down the street, they opened a branch, specializing in clothes geared to younger people. It closed at the same time as the parent store. The children didn't want to continue with the business.
This January, almost two months after saying goodbye to their daily routine, Juan died. He was 96. Yesterday, Encarnita died. She was 93. They'd been together since they met, when she was fourteen. They were always together once they took on the store. They spent a lifetime together there.
As the owners grow old and pass away, the old stores we've all known since we were children are disappearing. With the crisis unleashed by the coronavirus, more will fall. A few in Rianxo are still hanging on. A Pireta, which was a bakery and traditional grocery store, has changed. The old lady who owned it died, and the bakery and the store were divided, though they maintain the same name. The store was transformed into a fish monger's and grocery. The bakery has remained that, and gotten new life by delivering empanadas to different supermarkets in the area.
Librería Cándido, founded in 1904, still resists, after having passed through different transformations. At one point they printed books, and it's still a printer's, though now they've added photocopiers. Some years ago, they expanded into the store front of the house behind them, and sold toys, stationery, and other things, but they've since let that part go and closed down the annexe. They are still there, but who knows for how long.
Once they are gone, what will they be replaced with? Rianxo, at one point, had the most bars and cafés per inhabitant in all of Spain. Is that what we will be again? Will little souvenir trinket shops appear? Half the year they won't have any customers. The future has few times looked so uncertain.
Life continues.
It had a long history. It was open since 1951 and closed just at the end of last November. The owners, Juan and Encarnita, were always there; it didn't matter that they had retired.
You could wander in naked, and wander out dressed from top to bottom. They sold underwear, shoes, socks, clothes both for adults and children, coats, jackets, hats, yarn for crochet and knitting, buttons, zippers, thread, patches, embroidery floss, elastic, ribbon, hooks and clasps, sheets, blankets, bed spreads, towels, sewing needles, knitting needles, and crochet needles. And probably much more. In the beginning years, they even sewed clothes.
Everyone my age has gone to that store to buy track suits for gym class at school every year. Every parent has gone there to buy clothes for their children. Every adult has gone there to buy clothes for their parents. Everyone has gone there to buy some article of clothing of superior quality. In later years, chain stores and internet have won over local stores, but Encarnita always had customers.
They opened up a shoe shop just across the street some years ago, and a son manned it, but it didn't prosper, so they closed it and transformed it into a café. Just down the street, they opened a branch, specializing in clothes geared to younger people. It closed at the same time as the parent store. The children didn't want to continue with the business.
This January, almost two months after saying goodbye to their daily routine, Juan died. He was 96. Yesterday, Encarnita died. She was 93. They'd been together since they met, when she was fourteen. They were always together once they took on the store. They spent a lifetime together there.
As the owners grow old and pass away, the old stores we've all known since we were children are disappearing. With the crisis unleashed by the coronavirus, more will fall. A few in Rianxo are still hanging on. A Pireta, which was a bakery and traditional grocery store, has changed. The old lady who owned it died, and the bakery and the store were divided, though they maintain the same name. The store was transformed into a fish monger's and grocery. The bakery has remained that, and gotten new life by delivering empanadas to different supermarkets in the area.
Librería Cándido, founded in 1904, still resists, after having passed through different transformations. At one point they printed books, and it's still a printer's, though now they've added photocopiers. Some years ago, they expanded into the store front of the house behind them, and sold toys, stationery, and other things, but they've since let that part go and closed down the annexe. They are still there, but who knows for how long.
Once they are gone, what will they be replaced with? Rianxo, at one point, had the most bars and cafés per inhabitant in all of Spain. Is that what we will be again? Will little souvenir trinket shops appear? Half the year they won't have any customers. The future has few times looked so uncertain.
Life continues.
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