As we navigate the new normal

There was a little flurry of activity in the village WhatsApp group on Wednesday afternoon. Someone had died, someone with quite an unusual name. Was it the someone with that name from the village? It turned out to be a false alarm, well a false alarm for Culebrón. There was a Covid death but it was a different person from a village a few miles away. There's no doubt though that illness, and maybe death, is lurking around the corner.

I've just watched a programme on the tele where reporters followed cleaners, ambulance drivers, doctors on emergency admissions, nurses, the people running the logistics for the hospitals, the pathologists and the UCI staff etc. as they did their various jobs at several hospitals across Spain. It was all a very human experience as people going on shift waited while their names were written in thick marker on their protective clothing so they were recognisable through the disguise, as tired medical staff laughed as they drank coffee in their breaks, cried as they said goodbye to people who had recovered, sobbed as bodies were wheeled out to the morgue, showed a gentle pride in a job well done, kept their nerve as the machines monitoring whatever they monitor did that flat-lining thing and cursed under their breaths as the morning round robin video conference between regional hospitals listed the dead from the day before.

It was a programme that made me angry at the armchair pundits and their "what a lot of fuss about something that is killing fewer people than flu does routinely every year", cross at the idiot politicians seeking scapegoats for their own mistakes, cross at the politicians using the current situation for political manoeuvring and cross at the egotistical behaviour of any number of individuals who decide that they know better because the rules and procedures as not really relevant in their case.

It also made me acutely aware of how nice it is to live in a quiet backwater where the cuckoos are still cuckooing and the pain and suffering has, so far, largely passed us by.

Singing along

I heard a news item that said that someone had died. The name sounded, on first hearing, to be Mujica but in fact it was Múgica. The first, José Alberto "Pepe" Mujica, is an ex Uruguayan president, who has YouTube video after video overflowing with avuncular socialist wisdom and the other is Enrique Múgica Herzog who was, in Francoist times and during the transition, an important Spanish politician. The Uruguayan I knew in the same way as one knows Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela or Steve Jobs. The Spaniard I didn't know at all.

I've mentioned a pal who lives in el Cantón, a small village just over the border into Murcia, a couple of times in the last few blogs. His village seems to be being pretty "solidario" at the moment and they've made a couple of videos; the together, as a team, we can win sort of videos. One of the clips, the second part of the video, shows people from the village singing along to Resistiré, a song from the 80s which has become a familiar song again, all over Spain, in the past few weeks. It's a Spanish version of the Gloria Gaynor song "I will survive". It was originally done by the Dúo Dinámico (Dynamic Duo) with similar sentiments but completely different lyrics to the original - When I lose every game, when I sleep with loneliness..., I'll stand firm, like the reed that bends but doesn't break. It scans better in Spanish but, even then, it is not something that Lope de la Vega would be proud to have written. Now I know Resistiré, no idea why but I do. My pal in el Cantón didn't so whilst everyone else sang along as they clapped along he was participating from a different starting point.

When we first came to Spain we used to buy an English language newspaper called the Costa Blanca news. There was a small section on the weeks Spanish headlines. I remember carefully writing down the names of the politicians mentioned in that roundup trying to get up to speed with my new home. I still try to keep up to date but I've never been good with remembering people and I seem to be finding it more and more difficult to assimilate Spanish names. For instance there's a power struggle going on within the managing board of Barcelona F.C. at the moment. A new president has to be elected soon and it looks as though the "crown prince" has turned on the present boss and, amidst allegations of corruption, resigned and taken other committee members with him. The first two names are the important ones but look at this lot - Josep Maria Bartomeu, Emili Rousaud, Enrique Tombas, Silvio Elías, Josep Pont, Maria Teixidor and Jordi Calsamiglia. How does someone brought up on names like Jackie Charlton, Margaret Thatcher and George Alagiah deal with remembering names like those?

The cultural stuff. The Resistiré type song is even more difficult. I can have a crack at remembering the names of people in the news because I have a source but think of the of the tunes that make up your own musical knowledge. You can sing along to I Will Survive, Someone You Loved, Wonderwall, The Magnificent Seven, The Long and Winding Road and another zillion songs. You know another how many actors? And writers? And celebs? The learning of a lifetime.

It's a complicated business recognising a name or being able to sing along.

Solid

When it comes to National Identity I'm not a believer. I don't, for instance, see anything to be proud of in having been born in a particular place and I don't think  that the people of one nation are intrinsically different to the people of another. I do believe though that we all learn from our surroundings and that, as such, there are learned, generalised, national traits.

One thing that Spaniards like to say about themselves is that they are "solidario". It's not an easy word to translate into English - it's the attitude of being supportive, caring, empathetic, sympathetic and in it together.

Whenever there is an earthquake or hurricane somewhere in the world there will be something in the Spanish news about us being solidario and sending this or that team of rescue workers, search dogs, blankets or tents. The truth is that Spain has cut its foreign aid and only spends about 0.14% of it's Gross Domestic Income (GDI) on overseas aid. As a Briton, seeing those teams, supplies and tents being loaded onto the Airbus Atlas I often think the help looks paltry and late. One of the things we British can be proud of is that the UK is one of only seven countries in the world which has reached the 0.7% of GDI overseas aid target agreed at the United Nations. The UK economy is much bigger than Spain's so in folding we're talking 19 billion British dollars as against 1.6 billion Spanish dollars.

At the moment people are dying in hordes all over the World because of coronavirus. Spain has been one of the countries hardest hit though the latest figures for the UK are equally terrible. In fact the situation in Spain is probably much worse than reported. Imagine someone breathes their last in a Spanish care home. The person died because their lungs could not take in sufficient oxygen or expel sufficient carbon dioxide. The doctor can't put Covid 19 on the death certificate as the cause of death because there has been no corona virus test. The doctor writes pulmonary insufficiency in the space on the certificate and the death is not recorded as a part of the daily toll.

Maggie and I have taken to watching more television news broadcasts, both British and Spanish, during the pandemic. On the Spanish news the format is usually the latest national coronavirus news along with the political and economic news surrounding it plus the stories about shortages, bad planning etc. That's followed by a coronavirus update from around the world. Then there's the other news, a fair bit of sporting stuff (goodness knows how when there is no sport) and then lots of little human interest, soft news, stories.

The softer news stories are multifaceted. It might be about people using their 3D printers, sewing machines and production lines to make this or that for health workers or about football clubs opening their changing rooms for lorry drivers or about the children sending thank you drawings to police officers. Then there's usually lots and lots of applauding. Applause for the people giving impromptu concerts from their balconies, applause for firefighters who haven't been home for days as they drive by their home to sing  Happy Birthday over the loudspeakers to their locked in son, the line of siren blaring Civil Protection, Guardia Civil and Police cars "applauding" the supermarket workers. Today there has been lots of Easter ritual performed from balconies to applaud and, of course, every evening at 8pm we have applause for everyone from everyone.

The British news has the same sort of stories, maybe with a bit more complaining about the wrong responses, but there seem to be far fewer, hardly any, of the uplifting, morale boosting, we're all in this together stories. Maybe I've just missed them or maybe the Spaniards are right in thinking they are more Solidario.