Spanish views from a small town

From having little to talk about, it seems to have gone in the opposite direction. Yesterday morning, I returned to Monte Gaiás, this time with my daughter accompanying me. I joined the very fast-moving line inside, even though I was about a half hour earlier than the time they had told me to show up. (I think they just give the appointment hours to know how many people they can fit into a day.) The buildings are a veritable maze; without a map one would easily get lost in the empty lofty spaces. We were ushered into a hall with a smaller ceiling, where there were numbered cubicles set up in the sinuous space. There, a nurse was marshalling the arrivals, telling them to come forward and wait in front of certain spots to be called into the cubicle.  I was extremely quickly called into mine. I had been sneaking fast photos all the time, and took another one here of a table with a computer, the vaccines in their syringes, papers, a yellow disposal box for the needles, disinfectant, an...

Lunch had been finished. My husband and I were still sitting at the table. I was thinking of getting up and washing the dishes to get ready for my afternoon classes. From time to time we expressed disbelief at the news on television about the corruption that seems to seep out from the government every day. My husband's phone rang. Short, quick words. It was his mother. A car was starting to burn and there might be someone inside, she wasn't sure. My husband drops the phone, picks up the extinguisher we have and runs out to his car. I run back, turn off the television, and pick up the keys to my car. On the way, I call the Spanish emergency number, 112. I'm put on hold. Three times on the tiny drive into the village, I am told the operators are busy. I hang up. I call the regional number, 061 and I am answered almost immediately. But they inform me they already know and firefighters and ambulance are on the way. I park in front of my in-laws' house. The road is filling...

It had to happen. Eventually, there was no way out. The good things is, we're in Spain. People might hem and haw for a bit, but the stone bridge will remain as it is. Which is good, because it's a monument. I suppose up till now no one had decided to deface it with railings because it is quite wide and old, probably from the fifteenth or sixteenth century. It used to be the route along which the carriage went from the manor house to the church, some streets away. It's about as wide as a one-way street, and it's now pedestrian. No one has to step to the side to let a carriage go by these days. What they should put up all around it, though, are signs at phone level to warn pedestrians.  Those signs should be low down on the ground, really. Or at the right height and distance that anyone looking down at their phone will catch the sign out of the corner of their eye. Otherwise they won't work. Then again, if the person is so wrapped up in his phone, the same thing wil...

A man early one morning had been called out on a job in a small town in the province of Almería . He loaded his car and went back to pick up something else, unwittingly leaving the k eys in the ignition. A s he was coming back he heard some boys talking. One of them said , "Either you take it or I do, man. We can go do wn to the next town ." He discovered what they were ta lking about when he heard the engine turn over and his car leave without him. Now, how could he explain to the bereaved that his hearse , along with the coffin ready to pick up the dearly d eparted, had been stolen ?   If you're going to go for a joyride, there must be more unobtrusive cars to steal. B ecause a hearse is going to stick out like a tiara on a pig. If you steal a blue hatchback, people are going to be looking for a blue hatchback and will see hundreds. But not many people own a hearse. There are few on the road and are easier to spot. You'll be found fast. Even faster if you su...

In Almería province there is a fishing village with an evocative name, Palomares. The name means dovecotes, and brings to mind the cooing of doves and peaceful surroundings. In Spain its name brings to mind midnight minus two seconds. In 1966 Franco was a firm ally of the United States. After all, through the Marshall Plan at the end of World War II, the United States brought much- needed relief to a country that had not been able to recuperate from a bestial Civil War ten years earlier and punishment inflicted during the World War for being an ally of the Axis powers. Franco was a shrewd dictator and knew when to cut his losses and make an international about face. As the War drew to a close, and it was obvious his friend Hitler was going to lose, Franco decided Spain wasn't going down with the ship. He cut his ties and turned to the Allies as a neutral. He was admitted into the club and was given relief. In return, he ceded territory for the United States to use as air bases at...