The Adjusted Normal, 22. The Beach and the Fire.
Finally, the northeast wind has kicked in and summer is here. So, yesterday, beaches were filled with bodies soaking up the sun. So much so, that at one beach, people were turned away after 11:00AM.
When things were being prepared, some beaches were being sorted out so that distances would be kept between sunbathers. One beach decided to stick in wooden posts and tie ropes between them to section off enough of the sand to keep people well apart. People seem to have thought it was something like an art statement, for all the mind they paid it.
This week, some towns are going to use drones to check on how full the sands will be, and send in the police if people get too chummy. The interesting part is just how the police officers are going to request the new arrivals to leave.
In the end, the idea of setting up a web page to make appointments to go to the beach never went over well with most cities and towns. Each town decides the best approach for them. Sanxenxo tried with the roped-off posts, the beach at Carnota with people on the one lane leading in holding a counter, others with drones.
At the moment, tourism is not picking up much steam, so I see a few out-of-towners, but not as many as other years. This year is almost a Russian roulette on deciding on a vacation spot. Those that had made reservations in the towns of the Mariña Lucense, Lugo province's north coast, has just had them cancelled for this week, as the area went into lockdown. They have well over a hundred infected from too much partying at a couple of bars on St. John's Eve.
At some point this summer, I might go to the beach one afternoon, after classes. Though, by the time I'm free, five o'clock, there might not be room for me. Yesterday afternoon, the three of us went to our local river, where we found a footpath along one of its banks. We followed, with a few briars trying to invade the path at a couple of points. It's a beautiful area, with a few natural pools, but not a place to bathe. There is one spot, next to a picnic area that was once used as a swimming hole. The young men of the nearby villages used to build a dam just under a foot bridge, and the swimming hole would be a nice, deep spot to swim. The water in the river is generally cold under August is well under way, though. And the dam was dismantled by the environmental and forestry officers who inspect natural areas. The young men have since grown up and now have pools in their yards. Nature has resumed its course along the river.
And this writing has just been interrupted by a class and - a fire.
I had just begun my last class of the day and my daughter's phone rang. She answered it, and was told by the caller to step outside. My daughter opened the door, looked out, and said "Ooooh." I went to the front door and looked. Thick, black smoke was coming out of a pine grove down a lane across the road from our house.
My first thought was for the firewood stacked to cut on the other side of the road, easily accessible by the fire if it moved our way. Then, the house. Then, our neighbors. I tried to call my husband, but he was out of coverage area. People had started to arrive in their cars, to try to help put it out. My daughter had immediately called emergency services. One fire truck came by. I asked my daughter to continue my class, and went to where my husband was working, to tell him what was going on, in case it was prudent he come home.
When I got there, I followed the sound of stone on stone and found him. I called my daughter from a high spot, and she told us some more fire fighters had arrived and that now it just had white smoke coming out. My husband said there most likely wouldn't be a problem, but to call him if there were. He took his phone with him to a spot where he had coverage.
When I arrived back home, my daughter and I went over to where there were still white plumes wafting out of blackened earth and derelict blackened stems of ferns. The fire fighters were still there. The strong wind this afternoon was threatening to reavive the flames. Cousins, who had seen the fire from a distance were there, as were friends, and a neighbor. It seemed to have been put out, but if it isn't well snuffed out, the strong winds tonight might bring it back to life.
Who the hell is the flaming nincompoop that would light a fire so close to houses and a business? I swear, the number one public enemy that all of Galicia would love to lynch with a bit of his own fire, is the arsonist. Not just because of the habitats and flora destroyed, but because of the anguish and worry those in the paths of the fires suffer. And that's when the fires don't reach a home, or a business, or a person.
Life continues. And I hope the arsonist's lighter switches on in his pants pocket.
When things were being prepared, some beaches were being sorted out so that distances would be kept between sunbathers. One beach decided to stick in wooden posts and tie ropes between them to section off enough of the sand to keep people well apart. People seem to have thought it was something like an art statement, for all the mind they paid it.
This week, some towns are going to use drones to check on how full the sands will be, and send in the police if people get too chummy. The interesting part is just how the police officers are going to request the new arrivals to leave. In the end, the idea of setting up a web page to make appointments to go to the beach never went over well with most cities and towns. Each town decides the best approach for them. Sanxenxo tried with the roped-off posts, the beach at Carnota with people on the one lane leading in holding a counter, others with drones.
At the moment, tourism is not picking up much steam, so I see a few out-of-towners, but not as many as other years. This year is almost a Russian roulette on deciding on a vacation spot. Those that had made reservations in the towns of the Mariña Lucense, Lugo province's north coast, has just had them cancelled for this week, as the area went into lockdown. They have well over a hundred infected from too much partying at a couple of bars on St. John's Eve.
At some point this summer, I might go to the beach one afternoon, after classes. Though, by the time I'm free, five o'clock, there might not be room for me. Yesterday afternoon, the three of us went to our local river, where we found a footpath along one of its banks. We followed, with a few briars trying to invade the path at a couple of points. It's a beautiful area, with a few natural pools, but not a place to bathe. There is one spot, next to a picnic area that was once used as a swimming hole. The young men of the nearby villages used to build a dam just under a foot bridge, and the swimming hole would be a nice, deep spot to swim. The water in the river is generally cold under August is well under way, though. And the dam was dismantled by the environmental and forestry officers who inspect natural areas. The young men have since grown up and now have pools in their yards. Nature has resumed its course along the river.
And this writing has just been interrupted by a class and - a fire.
I had just begun my last class of the day and my daughter's phone rang. She answered it, and was told by the caller to step outside. My daughter opened the door, looked out, and said "Ooooh." I went to the front door and looked. Thick, black smoke was coming out of a pine grove down a lane across the road from our house.
My first thought was for the firewood stacked to cut on the other side of the road, easily accessible by the fire if it moved our way. Then, the house. Then, our neighbors. I tried to call my husband, but he was out of coverage area. People had started to arrive in their cars, to try to help put it out. My daughter had immediately called emergency services. One fire truck came by. I asked my daughter to continue my class, and went to where my husband was working, to tell him what was going on, in case it was prudent he come home.
When I got there, I followed the sound of stone on stone and found him. I called my daughter from a high spot, and she told us some more fire fighters had arrived and that now it just had white smoke coming out. My husband said there most likely wouldn't be a problem, but to call him if there were. He took his phone with him to a spot where he had coverage.
When I arrived back home, my daughter and I went over to where there were still white plumes wafting out of blackened earth and derelict blackened stems of ferns. The fire fighters were still there. The strong wind this afternoon was threatening to reavive the flames. Cousins, who had seen the fire from a distance were there, as were friends, and a neighbor. It seemed to have been put out, but if it isn't well snuffed out, the strong winds tonight might bring it back to life.
Who the hell is the flaming nincompoop that would light a fire so close to houses and a business? I swear, the number one public enemy that all of Galicia would love to lynch with a bit of his own fire, is the arsonist. Not just because of the habitats and flora destroyed, but because of the anguish and worry those in the paths of the fires suffer. And that's when the fires don't reach a home, or a business, or a person.
Life continues. And I hope the arsonist's lighter switches on in his pants pocket.
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