Saturday, 24 October 2009

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden

Stapelia grandiflora originates from the Transvaal in South Africa and is a very common succulent. It is easy to grow and quite interesting, with a big variety of colour in its flowers. However, the flowers are not grown for their beauty, nor for their perfume, which is quite evil smelling and gives rise to the popular name for Stapelia, namely "carrion plant." The idea, of course, is to attract insects and flies that otherwise go to rotting meat, in order for them to pollinate the plant.
I've had a Stapelia for just over three years and it has produced many other plants from cuttings. The "mother plant" is still thriving, though, and has just produced its second flower this year (with several others to come by the look of things). It takes a while for a flower bud to reach its mature size, but then things go quite quickly, especially on a warm day like today. In the course of just a few hours, the flower developed fully, as can be seen in this series of photos.

Thursday, 22 October 2009

Chwarae Teg

Not too long ago I had problems getting my UK passport renewed (see UK Passport Service, Passport Control, High Noon). Then, to add insult to injury, my long-awaited, brand-spanking-new passport was stolen on its first outing (see previous post) and I had to go through the passport request procedure all over again (and the procedure to report the loss or theft of a passport). Even worse, I had to pay for the whole thing over again; no less than 156.25 euro (delivery included).
But, chwarae teg, the Passport Service did a good job this time round. I sent the duly completed stack of forms by registered post to the UK Passport Service in Madrid on 8 October, just two weeks ago, and at mid-day today, yes today, the new passport was delivered by DHL, all present and correct (and still looking very much like a bird-watcher's handbook). At least this time I didn't have to phone several times to discover what had happened to my application (later to find that those phone calls cost me over 30 euro!). No, a good job this time, so fair's fair.

(Chwarae teg is a Welsh expression, meaning "fair play" and suchlike.)

Sunday, 18 October 2009

Papa's Got A Brand New Bag

Elise and I drove up to Belgium at the end of September. On the way we stopped at Girona, in the north of Spain and Albi, in the south of France. Both places are well worth a visit. The drive up went easily enough and without incident. Coming back, however, was a different story. All went well until we stopped at a motorway service area near the town of Tarragona, in the north of Spain. After filling the car with petrol, I parked at the side of the station's store and stayed in the car, while Elise went inside to make use of the facilities. Hearing someone who was clearly in distress, I looked around and saw a man on a mobile phone, just a few metres from the car, beckoning for me to come. Thinking he needed help, I went straight to him and he babbled questions in Spanish, but spoken with a foreign accent: do you speak German/how far is it to Barcelona/how much time is it to Barcelona…? Suddenly, he seemed to be satisfied and rushed off to a car that was then waiting for him. The car sped off, with him inside it. I went back to my own car, thinking he was a bit strange, but with no thoughts of ill-doings.
Elise soon returned and off we drove. After a few minutes, Elise asked where her bag was. She had left it on the floor of the car, in front of her seat, when she went into the service station's store. It didn't take long for us to realise what had happened: during that brief distraction, someone else must have quickly opened the car door and snatched the bag. A clever distraction, making use of the willingness of another to offer assistance.
As we were travelling back to our home in Spain from Belgium, the bag contained our passports, Elise's ID card, her digital camera, her sugar-level meter, her bank cards, her house keys, her car keys… a whole host of things, none really irreplaceable (other than the bag itself, which she had bought for her sixtieth birthday and was very fond of), but which require a lot of to-ing and fro-ing in order to be replaced. We first blocked the bank cards, then we made a "denuncia" (a statement to the police); on arriving home, we had the house locks changed, the car locks recoded, visited the consulates for Elise's Belgian passport and ID and my UK passport, had new photos taken, filled in and sent off all the necessary forms, visited the insurance company, and so on. All just hassle, really.
Oh, on the insurance front, there seems to be a difference between "theft" and "robbery": theft does not involve violence of any kind (and no violence was reported in the denuncia); robbery involves any level of viiolence, no matter how small -- a push might even be sufficient. Our travel insurance covers only theft, so we are likely only to receive the 200 euro maximum allowed in such a case (the insurance also covers the change of house locks). We estimate the total loss to be something over 1000 euro. Still, we were not hurt and are an experience wiser, so there are positive aspects.
It's just a pity that in future I shall think twice before going to help someone.
(The photo shows Elise in Girona, wearing the stolen bag and using the stolen camera.)

Tuesday, 15 September 2009

Tower Of Strength

Spain is full of surprises. Unfortunately, it seems that even the Spanish people themselves are largely unaware of the rich variety of their country historically, culturally, naturally and otherwise. Perhaps this is because there is just so much in every aspect that they become flippant. This certainly seems to be the case with the general disrespect of nature, with open spaces sadly filled with rubbish, showing a total disregard for the wonderful countryside. I'm sure that another reason is the dominance of the Catholic church, which has channelled almost all thought to a host of virgins and a never-ending series of processions. Still, that's another matter. Here I want to point out something quite different: the highest structure in the European Union (if it isn't now, it soon will be—in this respect, see my earlier "Looking High, High, High" entry, too.)

Even the local people who live around La Torreta are surprised to hear that it is the tallest building in the EU. "Taller than the Eiffel tower?" is the most frequent response, so here's an illustration to show just how much taller La Torreta is. Incidentally, there are plenty of other radio masts that are taller than the Eiffel tower, though most of these seem to be in Eastern Europe. Still, the Eiffel tower with its 320.75 metres (including its TV mast) is quite a way down the list and is almost 50 metres shorter than the 370 metres high La Torreta de Guardamar.

If you would like to see some photos of La Torreta de Guardamar, please visit my Picasa Web Album.

Thursday, 3 September 2009

Let's Have A Party

In the north of Europe we have our Patron Saints, such as Saint David (Dewi Sant) in Wales. Here in Spain the patron tends to be a representation of the Virgin Mary (a term originating from a poor translation from the original Hebrew word 'almah, but that's another story). In El Campo de Guardamar, the patron is the Virgin of Fatima's Rosary and she is honoured in fiestas that take place each year during September. This year, these fiestas stretch from 5 until 20 September.

The programme of events is as follows:

Saturday, 5 September:
13:00 Firing of rockets to announce the start of the fiestas
16:00 Start of domino championship
23:00 Fiesta speech, given by veterinary doctor Julián Huertas Aracil
01:30 Crowning of Fiesta Queens, followed by disco dance, including live group Los Chiquillos

Sunday, 6 September:
10:00 Fiesta bar is open
14:00 Traditional paella cooking competition (Tables can be reserved from 10:00. Firewood and beer provided by fiesta committee.)
17:00 Bingo with plenty of prizes
18:00 Children's fair

Saturday, 12 September:
16:00 Bar opens and domino championship continues
23:00 Game shows, including Tú si que vales (something like The Gong Show). Anyone wishing to take part should contact a member of the Fiesta Committee. Also a surprise performance…
03:00 Traditional hot chocolate and La Mata Monas (a sort of cake)

Sunday, 13 September:
12:00 Open-air mass in Los Limoneros, followed by presentation of flowers in the chapel of El Campo
19:00 Groups accompany the Fiesta Queens and ladies in waiting from the chapel to the start of the carnival
20:00 Colourful carnival parade with three prizes offered to groups of more than 5 people, each of whom will receive a prize. Prizes are offered for:
Biggest group (most participants);
Best costumes;
Best coreography.
22:00 Following the parade, fireworks display.

Saturday, 19 September:
16:00 Bar opens and final of domino championship
22:00 Dinner and dance; bring your own food, but an aperitif and the wine is provided
23:00 Musical revue
.
Sunday, 20 September:
16:00 Bar opens and final of domino championship
10:30 Bikers breakfast: come on a motorbike; each of the first 300 participants will receive a gift bag.
Because of inclement conditions last week (it rained a bit), the Carnival Parade has been postponed to this weekend:
19:00 Groups accompany the Fiesta Queens and ladies in waiting from the chapel to the start of the carnival
20:00 Colourful carnival parade with three prizes offered to groups of more than 5 people, each of whom will receive a prize. Prizes are offered for:
Biggest group (most participants);
Best costumes;
Best coreography.
22:00 Following the parade, fireworks display.

Monday, 31 August 2009

Crumbs!

When I had an aquarium, some 30 years ago, I used to bake all our bread. I know, that sounds like a very strange juxtaposition, but I found the light-cap which was used to illuminate the aquarium made an excellent surface on which to prove the bread-dough.

Of course, in those days I needed to knead the dough by hand and this had to be repeated until the final rise was completed and the bread could be baked. Usually I baked five or six loaves at a time. The dough was made with flour freshly ground at our local windmill. I kid you not! Just up the road from where we lived in Horebeke, a small village between Oudenaarde and Zottegem, in East Flanders (Oost Vlaanderen), was a wooden windmill, called the Tissenhovemolen. Such a chance could not be missed, of course—be honest, how often have you seen the flour you use actually as grains poured into a funnel to find their way between the massive grinding millstones, all the while surrounded by the creakings and rumblings of a wonderful wooden windmill? Good flour it was, too!

We moved away from Horebeke in the mid-1990s, by which time the aquarium was long gone and the only bread we baked was made in a bread machine. It was good bread, nevertheless (or so Elise tells me; I have little time for the actual process of eating anything, let alone bread). Eventually the bread machine went the way of all modern machines and wasn't replaced as by then we lived close to a real baker—someone whose shop had a full bakery behind it and who got up at about two in the morning to have fresh bread ready for his early morning customers. I must admit that I was more interested in his Tom Poesen (large custard cream slices) than in his bread, and his eclairs were also quite exquisite.

Anyway, we're here in Spain now and the idea of a bread machine appealed to Elise again some months ago. Not that there's anything wrong with the bread that is available here: for me, the barras are perfectly good and there are more "wholesome" loaves to choose from, too. But She Who Is To Be Obeyed had decided that we should have a bread machine, so a bread machine we bought. I started with the few basic recipes that were provided in the instruction booklet, and they worked fine, but lately I have been experimenting with my own mixtures and some of these produce good results, so here's one you might wish to try if you, too, have a bread machine.

Perhaps I should first mention that the machine I use is a Moulinex Home Bread. Whatever machine you have, it is important to add the ingredients in the same order in which they are listed:

Ingredients:
2 teaspoons of olive oil (or sunflower oil);
295 ml of liquid (I use half milk and half water);
2 teaspoons of salt;
2 teaspoons of sugar (I use dark brown sugar and tend to add a bit for luck);
125 gr plain white flour;
175 gr wholemeal flour;
200 gr strong white flour;
a handful of quite finely chopped nuts (I use walnuts, hazelnuts and pumpkin seeds);
1 teaspoon of bakers yeast (I use half a sachet of Maizena Levadura de panadería, which is equivalent to 7 gr of fresh yeast)

Simply put the ingredients in the machine's baking pan in the above sequence, finally sprinkling the yeast over the whole surface. I then use the programme for wholemeal bread (on our machine, that's programme 4), with the browning setting at maximum.

Enjoy.

Friday, 14 August 2009

Slippin' and Slidin'

The recent flash floods in parts of Spain, most notably in Jaén, where rivers of mud flowed through a number of villages, and the terrible mudslides in Taiwan, brought to mind the coaltip slide in the Welsh village of Aberfan.

The problems in Spain and Taiwan were almost unavoidable, caused by highly unusual weather conditions and with no warning. Aberfan was different. There, 144 people, including 116 children were killed in 1966 because of the stubbornness of the National Coal Board and, more specifically, the chairman of that organisation, Lord Robens of Woldingham.

Aberfan is a small village situated in one of the former coalmining valleys of South Wales, a few kilometres south of Merthyr Tydfil. Like most (all?) mining villages at the time, the slopes of its valley were dominated by coal tips. When I lived in Gelli, in the Rhondda Valley, during the 1950s, I would climb up the valley sides to play on the tips—they made great slides and you could get really dirty. (Heaven only knows what else was tipped there, but the lake (it was probably no more than a pond, but it seemed like a lake in the eyes of the child) in one of the tips contained a red liquid.) At the time, too, we were used to tips creeping down the valley sides, gradually approaching the rows of houses towards the bottom of the valley. There were no safety precautions for these tips, neither for their placement, nor for their further exploitation. Several of the tips above Aberfan had been built up over a number of springs, that were clearly marked on maps made prior to the initiation of tipping.

The seepage of water from the springs below the tips, combined with effects of several days of rain, had already caused warnings to be raised about the possibility of an imminent tip slide. The warnings were ignored. On the morning of 21 October 1966, just as the children of the Pantglas junior school had finished assembly and were starting classes, a huge mass of rocks and slag separated from the tip and bore down onto the school itself and the houses of Moy Road, 20 of which were literally demolished. Part of the school was simply wiped out as the slide surged into the classrooms, killing some instantly, while others had a slower death under the blackness. Despite frantic rescue efforts that went on for hours and hours, no child was found alive after 11 o'clock that morning.

Robens, an Englishman, was informed of the disaster, but instead chose to go to his own investiture as chancellor of the University of Surrey, putting a silly ceremony at an English university before the lives of the Welsh schoolchildren. The NCB's attitude was further demonstrated by its officials when the Secretary of State for Wales tried to contact Robens in Aberfan, only to be told by them that Robens was personally directing rescue work, when he simply wasn't there. He turned up during the evening of the next day, and then took cynicism a step further by telling a reporter that the accident was unavoidable and attributing it to natural and unknown springs below the tip—a blatant lie, as the springs were shown on maps and the locals remembered them from before the time that tipping started on them.

During one of the inquests, the coroner wanted to note the cause of death for thirty of the victims as "asphyxia". Amidst calls of "murderers," one father stood up and said, "I want it recorded: Buried alive by the National Coal Board. That is what I want to see on the record. That is the feeling of those present. Those are the words we want to go on the certificate." I suspect that this is not what was recorded, but it is most certainly the truth.

Robens went on to steal £150,000 from the disaster fund (almost £2 million had been collected), which he used to comply with an order to remove the tips above the school. You can just imagine him chuckling about his cleverness, together with his lordly chums in their London club (no women or Welsh admitted, no doubt). Unbelievably, the Labour government of Harold Wilson allowed this monstrosity to stay on as chairman of the NCB. The Labour Party! Brought to power largely thanks to the efforts of Welsh coalminers, now turning against their very own at a moment of high personal crisis. This might well be the moment when the Labour Party moved away from their socialist ideals and took a right fork towards capitalism.

Further information about the Aberfan disaster can be found at
The Aberfan Disaster
Wikipedia article on Aberfan
British Pathé archives: This Is Tragedy (other films available)