Boundary changes

We were in a traffic jam this last weekend. A proper traffic jam. A traffic jam that kept stopping and starting and which we took half an hour to clear. I felt quite sorry for the bloke in the Porsche Cayenne Coupé. He was originally alongside as we put on the hazard warning lights and slowed to join the tailback. He was so pressed for time though that he had to dodge from lane to lane. It worked. He was at least 100 metres in front of us when the traffic started to move again as the RM19 motorway, the one we were on, merged into the A30 that skirts Murcia city. 

I seriously don't remember the last time I was in a similar traffic jam here in Spain. We don't have traffic in the countryside. We really don't. Sometimes, where the Monóvar road meets the Yecla road in Pinoso, there's a police officer to make sure that you don't have problems turning left across traffic but that's only around the time the industrial estate kicks out. On the main roads in and out of Pinoso it's quite likely that you'll only see one or two cars, or none, in every couple of kilometres.

The traffic jam was important only in a lateral thinking sort of way. There was so many cars because, for the first weekend in ages, most of the Covid travel restrictions had gone. A few regions tried to maintain the border controls but the courts were having none of it. We've still got a midnight curfew in Valencia which might have been important if we'd been making our way home three or four hours later but we weren't so it wasn't. 

We didn't go far. About 100km from Culebrón but only 3.3km over the border from our home province. We were near Lo Pagán with the salt pans, the mud baths, the flamingos and the Mar Menor. Hundreds, nay thousands, of people had the same idea. Hence our difficulty in parking at the Port in las Salinas and the traffic jam later. 

When in Rome as the saying goes.