The castle in Alicante is on top of a big hill. Although it's a fair drag you can walk (or drive) to the castle on a road that starts from near the Archaeological Museum. On the seaward side you can get to the castle by using a lift that is accessed through a long tunnel. Along with the details for the change of venue the organisers said that the car parks behind the castle would be open and that the lift would be working. Yesterday, a few hours before the concert was due to begin I got a second email to say that the lift and castle car parks were now closed. There would be a minibus shuttle service. Covid certainly keeps organisers and rule makers on their toes.
The message said that it was still possible to drive to the two small car parks half way up the slope to the castle but that the police might close the car parks if there was too much mingling going on there. I suspect that had a bit of a hidden message. Young people in Spain have a fondness for impromptu gatherings which are called botellones (from the word for bottle). Often botellones are linked to parked cars and their music systems. Youngsters take the vodka, gin and mixers to the event in a plastic carrier bag, poorer young people take cartons of wine ready to mix with coke to make the disgusting but knee buckling calimocho. Obviously enough there is no set recipe but basically a botellón is an open air knees up with booze, snacks and music. The talk, amongst we older citizens, is only ever of booze, we never mention anything smokeable or poppable. Botellones, like discos, have been taking a lot of the heat for the recent increase in Covid numbers amongst young people. Well, that and family get togethers.
We have to wear masks all the time when we're in the street and in all public places. Given that eating or drinking whilst wearing a mask is counterproductive we can remove them to eat and drink, for instance outside a bar. We are supposed to pop the mask back into place between sips or whilst we're waiting for the pudding to arrive but most people don't. There are regular stories of police getting physical with someone who says no to mask wearing and the fines can be ludicrously high.
So, on the way to the concert we stop off for a drink. Our route to the terrace is clearly marked. No bar service, just table service. Gel at the entrances, limited access to the toilets following a marked route. A reminder about 40 second hand washing. Variations on a theme but the usual sort of stuff to try and check the spread.
After the bar we join the queue for the minibus shuttle. People aren't exactly careful about keeping 2 metres apart but it's a forgetful rather than defiant proximity and the line is much more widely spaced queue than normal. Nobody kisses, nobody hugs and nobody pumps hand on greeting friends. The minibus is an anomaly though. It smells very strongly of something ready to go hand to hand with viruses and bacteria but, nonetheless, we ride sardine like.
The concert is seated. The chairs are numbered. It's a slow process at the entrance; gel on hands before name and surname, the door keepers find you on the paper list and direct you to the designated seating. I notice that my phone numbers, email and address are alongside my name, presumably in case they need to hunt me down later. Our two chairs are a couple of metres from the four to the left and the five to the right. We are reminded not to wander around during the concert.
And so it goes. I visited someone in hospital yesterday. Masks and gel a go-go. The floor of my pal's room was mopped and his bathroom cleaned twice whilst I was there. There was a reminder from the local town hall about the protocol for funerals after someone died in Pinoso last week. Jumilla, one of our neighbouring towns over the border into Murcia, is sealed off from today because of the increase in cases. Nobody in and nobody out. Procedures and processes everywhere.
2020 is a strange vintage.
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