Awake, for morning in the bowl of night has flung the stone that puts
the stars to flight.
And, lo, has caught the sultan’s turret in a noose of light!

Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable – Christopher Howse: ‘A Pilgrim in Spain’

Cosas de España/Galicia

Everyone who lives in Spain will tell you it’s a noisy country. Especially for us foreigners who weren’t born and raised here and so didn’t develop filters at an early age. I think it’s officially number 2 in the world, after Japan, but I suspect that, in the latter case, it’s a question of machine and traffic noise, rather than the human variety. So, chalk and cheese. Or agua y aceite. But even the locals have a limit to their tolerance, as here.

Of course, there are some quiet places in Spain. Even some with humans in them. Churches, of course. And golf courses. Here’s where some of the latter are in Galicia. I’ve played a few times at one of these. Where my ability to hit balls into the small lake in front of one of the tees was often commented on. And mercilessly laughed at.

Incidentally, the Madrid concerts are said to have gone on until midnight. I recently wrote of some here – across the river in Lérez – only stopping at 5 or 6 in the morning. Which was almost certainly illegal. Like the ones in Madrid, in fact. But the Spanish are famous for ignoring laws that are personally inconvenient.

Talking of breaking laws . . . Regular readers will know I was fined a few weeks ago for parking my car facing the wrong way. Well, I noticed this last week that half the cars in a short cul-de-sac off my street were facing the wrong direction. As the drivers there are clearly not afraid of being fined, I can only assume the police use some sort of legal logic to permit this. Or I am being victimised.

Reading one of the local papers this morning – and there are several of them – I wondered how many would stay in business without the endless PR pronouncements of the several administrations – national, regional, provincial and municipal. And news of food-related events. And statistics.

The USA

God forbid! . . . Why Donald Trump’s plan to target non voters could open the door to the White House. The Trump campaign is targeting non-voters in a ‘risky’ new strategy. ‘Trump Force Captains’ scramble to contact those who don’t regularly vote, tantalised by potential prizes

Net Zero

Surely true . . . Governments in the UK and across Europe face a mighty industrial battle over the coming years to push through net zero policies in the teeth of trade union and popular resistance, which is certain to grow. With each high-profile plant closure, the intensity of that fight ratchets up. Idealism meets the economic realities of the not-so-well-off.

Spanish

En primera persona: Personally, in person.

And a couple of ‘false friends’:-

• Coacción: I always get this wrong, thinking it means something like the crime of conspiracy. But it really means coercion, duress, force, or the like.
• Prevaricación: Likewise, in the case of accused judges, I always give this the usual English meaning of: Shuffling, or quibbling, to evade the truth or the disclosure of truth. Whereas in Spain: Este delito ocurre cuando un juez dicta una resolución arbitraria, sabiendo de que es injusta.

Did You Know?

Vultures have a hidden value.

Finally . .

MY YEAR IN THE SEYCHELLES

• Part 1: 12 August 2024: Why VSO?
• Part 2: 13 August 2024: The Leaving of Liverpool
• Part 3: 14 August 2024: An interlude: The Seychelles back then
• Part 4: 14 September 2024: Departure, Nairobi and Arrival

Part 5: Arriving in Mombasa

As we came into land at Mombasa, Martin nudged me and pointed to a colourful group standing on the tarmac.

As we descended, we could make out a military band and several obvious dignitaries.

Disappointingly, this turned out to be a reception not for us but for a visiting Ugandan MP. The most outstanding features were a large nearby group of ululating women and a military commander who was only four feet[129cm] tall but who had a sword measuring around three and a half feet[[107cm] in length. With which he was fighting a losing battle as he marched up and down for the comic relief of his troops.

After half an hour we were allowed off the plane and into the airport buildings.

Once in the terminal, we cast around for the representative of the American military we’d been told would meet us and then arrange for us to be flown by them to the islands. Our assumption was that VSO had arranged for us to be met and told about our accommodation and onward flight arrangements, about which we knew nothing. But, as the crowd thinned, we were forced to the conclusion this was unlikely to happen.

Then, out of the wilderness, there came the cry in an American accent “Hey, are you two guys limeys? It turned out he was from Pan Am but had never heard of VSO. Nor could he tell us where we were staying the night. But he did know that we were flying to the islands with him the next day and suggested we call him later about our departure. As for overnight accommodation, he suggested we try the airlines office in town.

For some reason or other, we were shepherded into a mini-van, of which virtually the entire interior was occupied by two large African ladies, one of whom was breast feeding. Feigning nonchalance, Martin and I squeezed ourselves into what was left of the space, only to find we had it all to ourselves when the arrival of the driver led to the immediate departure of our companions.

We were then driven past large crowds of equally sizeable women who were ululating loudly. This was in anticipation of the arrival of the Kenyan President, Jomo Kenyatta, who actually came down the steps of his plane, imperiously whipping his fly-whisk, as we drove past.

The folk at the airlines office were friendly and tried to be helpful. They suggested we try the British Commission, who curtly told us to call a Mr Harrison, who directed us to the YWCA – Young Women’s Christian Association, WCA. They did, he assured us, sometimes take males.

Inside 10 minutes we were outside the YWCA, in a very quiet part of Mombasa. The taxi driver gratefully accepted his extortionate fee, carped at the (understandably) small tip and then drove off with a great roar, temporarily shattering the tranquillity of the place.

The hostel turned out to be one of the oddest places I’ve had the pleasure to stay in.

Tomorrow . . . A very strange woman and a worrying night

My thanks to those readers who take the trouble to Like my posts, either after reading on line or in my FB group Thoughts from Galicia.

The Usual Links . . .

• You can get my posts by email as soon as they’re published. With the added bonus that they’ll contain the typos I’ll discover later. I believe there’s a box for this at the bottom of each post. If you do this but don’t read the posts, I will delete your subscription. So perhaps don’t bother if you have other reasons for subscribing . . .
• For new readers: If you’ve landed here looking for info on Galicia or Pontevedra, try here. If you’re passing through Pontevedra on the Camino, you’ll find a guide to the city there.
• For those thinking of moving to Spain:– This is an extremely comprehensive and accurate guide to the challenge, written by a Brit who lives in both the North and the South and who’s very involved in helping Camino walkers. And this is something on the so-called Beckham Rule, which is beneficial – tax-wise – for folk who want to work here. Finally, some advice on getting a mortgage. And this article ‘debunks claims re wealth and residency taxes’. Probably only relevant if you’re a HNWI. In which case, you’ll surely know what that stands for.