No taxes without drains

As a follow up to the last post (not the haunting melody but my last entry on this blog) I wrote out my appeal against the new drainage charge using the official form downloaded from the SUMA website.

On Tuesdays I meet with a Spanish bloke called Carlos to do a language exchange. I fail to speak Spanish and he talks some English. I asked him to check the grammar and what not of my appeal. "No problems," he said, "all the right boxes filled in and the explanation is simple but clear and accurate." The last item asked me to list any supporting documentation I was sending and as I had none that's what I'd written.

"You should send a copy of your DNI," said Carlos.

The DNI is the Identity Card that all Spaniards carry. I have an equivalent but it would never have struck me to send a copy. Thinking about it though I knew that Carlos was right. Everyone, but everyone wants to check your identity here and it has become so routine for Spaniards to show their ID that it never crosses their mind that it's an intrusive and overly bureaucratic measure.

Lots of faff to post the letter too. "Better not to fold the documents, get a big envelope," was what Carlos had advised. So I bought an envelope. I'd filled in the Certificated letter form at the Post Office and handed it across the counter with the unsealed envelope. "Just one small detail and you'll be there," said the friendly chappie at the Post Office, "You need to complete a Registered mail certificate as well as a sort of receipt."

It's away now. Just a simple form and an item to post but it feels like a small scale triumph whether SUMA finally accept the appeal or not.

Excuse me, what am I paying for?

The majority of the local taxes in Alicante are collected by an agency called SUMA. So the water bills, the rubbish collection, car road tax and the equivalent of the council tax all come from SUMA despite actually being set by the local Town Hall in Pinoso.

SUMA, in my experience, is an efficient organisation. I pay most of my bills by "direct debit" and SUMA's notifications always come a couple of weeks before the due date reminding me to check that I have sufficient funds in the bank etc. So unlike the banks, phone company and electric people who just take the money on random dates often without notification (though to be fair the phone and electric people have improved recently) SUMA do it the correct way.

So the other week a notification arrives that says that there has been a bit of a cock up on their part and that for some tax period they have either made an error in or forgotten a charge relating to sewerage and sewage charges. The language is the archaic stuff of official documentation and there is no date set on which they intend to take the payment (only 42€) though there is a section which tells me my rights should I wish to challenge this ruling. My guess is that this is notification that there will be a charge and that shortly they will send an actual bill.

Now we got new drains in Culebrón a while ago but ours was one of the six houses that was left out of the scheme. I could see a link, new service, new charge. So I wrote an email to them asking what the charge was and whether it applied to us as we don't have any drains. Their reply came back in a couple of days (another good sign, most Spanish organisations don't respond to email) though it offered no explanation except to tell me the official routes for lodging a complaint. Those routes include going into an office, using their virtual office (which requires an electronic signature) or sending the official form which has to be validated in a post office before the envelope is sealed.

I have two forms of electronic signature on my computer but neither of them will get me past their gate-keeping. Going to an office is a bit tricky as their working day and mine don't mesh and sending an official complaint by post seems a bit drastic. All I really want to know is what I'm paying for and whether it's a one off charge or an annual increase.

I've just spent an hour or so writing the few lines in Spanish (checking and rechecking grammar and phraseology takes me ages) to try to explain what I'm after, saying that I'm not after any sort of privileged information so we don't need the secure measures that they are asking for etc.

This could be the real test as to whether SUMA really is more human and one notch easier to deal with than the majority of Spanish bureaucracies. It would be so nice if they just did the decent thing and replied with a nice simple explanation in everyday language. Somehow though I doubt that will be the case.

Monday update: Not only have they replied (well done boys!)) but they've also said it's probably a mistake and I should appeal the decision as it's a recurring payment.

La Comunidad Británica

Back in November the Royal British Legion, Pinoso Branch, organised a Remembrance Day Service in the local Parish Church. According to a pal of ours who was one of the organisers the Town Band pulled out all the stops to learn the hymns. By all accounts the event was a resounding success attended by Brits and Spaniards alike.

Tonight we went to a carol concert. The bulk of the carols were performed by the Parish Choir but the first two carols of the evening were performed by a group of Britons who had formed a small choir especially for the occasion -  "The British Community Choir." For a couple of songs  Britons and Spaniards sang side by side. It was a splendid little event.

Next May there are local elections and one of the political parties has been using the services of another British pal of ours to act as their liaison. He speaks good Spanish and offers a sort of general help-desk to Britons. One of his recent innovations has been an email newsletter which includes a "what's on" guide and my guess is that that newsletter has produced a massive upsurge in British awareness of local events and opportunities.

In my opinion all the people, Britons and Spaniards alike, who are involved in these sort of initiatives should be well pleased with themselves.

Well tricked

"What do you fancy doing today? - I want to go to the Nueva Condomina Shopping Centre," said Maggie. I groaned.

It's not that I've got anything against shopping centres but I only choose to go to them when I need or want something that one of the shops there may have. Maggie goes to shopping centres for fun. She may have some vague idea about buying a top or shoes or something else but that translates into traipsing around shops that don't sell tops or shoes or that other thing. Different philosophy.

She had something in her favour though. I teach English to the staff of another shopping centre and the boss there had mentioned that a couple of quite well known Spanish fashion designers had created the Christmas lights at the Nueva Condomina so there was a vague reason for going.

"Alright," I said.

I have to say I was mightily disappointed. These two blokes, José Víctor Rodríguez Caro and José Luis Medina del Corral trade as Victorio and Lucchino. They made their names as ready to wear fashion designers who branched out into bridal wear, interior design and perfumes. They are also famous for being a married gay couple and for using themes from Southern Spain; from Andalucia as their inspiration. Maybe I missed something but the lights looked like they were from a Chinese Shop and it took me a while to even notice the half life size figures hanging from the ceiling.

I left Maggie to it. Fnac, the bookshop, was good though and they were playing music by a Spanish Tom Waits sound alike that I liked so much I actually bought it.

Good morning

Sunday morning and I was strolling around the garden with a pot of tea in one hand and a cigar in the other. Down the road I noticed the "higos chungos" glowing red against the broad green leaves in the early morning sun. I finished the tea and went to take some snaps and then had a look at Wikipedia. Apparently they are not called higos chungos but higos chumbos -  though it's apparently a common mistake. Chungo means something akin to dodgy, dicey or nasty and higo is fig; seemed reasonable enough - a dodgy sort of fig. We'd definitely been told they were called chungos.

Apparently the plant is Mexican in origin. The leaves of the cactus are eaten like vegetables and the fruit, well as fruit. In Spain the leaves are used as animal fodder but in my search for information I came across lots of Spanish recipes and childhood reminisences of the "We always used to get these as children when we went to see my gran at Christmas," type.

As we never got around to eating the thousands of ordinary figs that grew in our garden I don't imagine we'll be braving the spines of these prickly pears as part of our Christmas diet.

And it's cold

Bit miserable in Culebrón today. Maggie is upset about losing her break in the UK because of the unofficial strike by the air traffic controllers. I'm fed up because of the accusations at work that I smell like an old tramp which may lead to me losing my wage and then, on top of that, it's freezing in this house.

Now I know a bit of frost is nothing if you live in Bradford or Burgos but it's pretty unusual in Alicante and it's more of a shock to us because of the contrast between our weekday residence and inland Culebrón. Yesterday was chilly; pullover and sports jacket weather in Cartagena (11ºC) but 600 metres higher and I'm worried about the pipes freezing and reduced to wearing socks in bed.

Not enough cash

Maggie is due to fly to Blighty tomorrow. She was concerned that the weather may be a problem but no, it's the air traffic controllers.

For the past year the controllers have been a bit disgruntled. Some of them top out a salary of around 900,000€ a year but, as their Union points out, at least half of them only earn around 200,000€ a year. The Government though thought this was a tad too much, especially in light of the proposed privitization of the airports, so they introduced new working conditions which basically set the working hours, before overtime, at 1670 hours per year.

So today, the controllers took their revenge. Lots of them didn't turn up for work and Spanish airspace has been closed down. The timing was perfect, it's a long bank holiday weekend here stretching through till Wednesday so the airports were busy. They are now full of stranded passengers.

The Interior Minister has just been on telly threatening to send in military controllers and the Union has recommended to its members that they turn up for work at 10 this evening but whether they will, whether they'll be able to clear the backlog etc., remains moot.

Poor old Maggie, she's been looking forward to this trip for ages. Fingers crossed.

Saturday update. The flight is cancelled and Maggie can't go to the UK as she planned. As I type she is checking her options for other flights. I feel so sorry for her. She was so looking forward to it.

Meanwhile the Government has declared a State of Alarm (the first time this has happened in Spain since the return to democracy in the 1970s) and is threatening the controllers with legal proceeedings which could lead to gaol terms. Military controllers have also been put into the air traffic control centres and Air Force officers have taken over control of the majority of the flight control centres. Some of the controllers have turned up for work as usual but, apparently, it's very piecemeal.

There was a little note that the controllers are meeting in a motel just outside Madrid and that other guests have been giving them a really tough time.

Glad it's all over

Like Captain Sensible, the residents of El Culebrón were glad it was all over. The biggest cheer of the afternoon came when the Annual General Meeting finally came to an end. The Association was celebrating its tenth birthday. We've been members for five of those. Like all Spanish public meetings it had bordered on chaos with personal attacks and insults thrown into the mix. At one point the chairwoman attempted to re-assert order with a spot of fingers in mouth whistling.

Nothing much was decided except to accept the annual accounts and to agree a small increase in the annual membership fee from 18€ per household per year to 20€. I must have missed the re-election of officers and acceptance of last years minutes amongst the din.

From the accounts it appears that only 21 households actually sign up to the Neighbourhood Association so the 2€ increase is hardly going to make much difference to the annual figures.

When I used to stage AGMs getting anyone there was always the difficulty. The "Vecinos" never have any problem with that because, like any Spanish event, the principal reason for being there was to feed. No problem about the menu either. The two traditional dishes for the area: a rice paella of rabbit and snails and the warming rabbit stew called gazpacho (not the cold soup from Andalucia) as usual. I chose the gazpacho but I ate the breadlike base along with the stew rather than keeping it apart to spread with honey afterwards. I've often been accused of having strange eating habits but spreading honey on stew soaked pastry has always seemed a bit perverse to me. Maggie went for the rice.

Pleasant enough do. We were the only Brits there this year amongst the 60 or so diners and a couple of Spanish acquaintances actually made sure we sat with them which was a pleasant change. Normally we end up being pushed right to the edge of things. The conversation didn't exactly flow but we held our own.

Tu vista favorita

For the past eleven weeks I've been watching a programme on Spanish telly called "Your favourite view." The format is simple; forty celebs, walked us through their favourite area of Spain, usually the area where they had grown up. To add a bit of spice the TV company hired a helicopter to overfly and film the chosen areas. Four views each week, a vote by text message and at the start of the next programme the winner of the last programme was announced. Spectacular views but basically standard stuff.

Tonight was the final. The ten chosen views were to do battle in a live show. The presenter, who has anchored the programme over the last ten weeks, had changed out of her habitual  red anorak and stripy T shirt and was dressed in a military style jacket and spike heeled fetish boots. The setting was the helicopter hangar. No audience, just the presenter.

Voting was only possible via the TV company's website. The cumulative vote was shown throughout the show so it soon became pretty obvious which views weren't in the running. Nonetheless, as the programme neared its end I went online to vote even though my favourite was in the cat in hell section.

I had to register. I had to wait for an email response. Before I got a response the system closed down. Never mind, Trujillo wsan't going to win anyway. The Cañón del Río Lobos in Soria did. That's it in the snap.

Excellent programme I thought but maybe Cuatro should get a bit of advice on both voting methods and building up the voting tension from those Strictly Come Dancing or X Factor people.

Nothing to do with Culebrón

The photo was in a national newspaper as a competition winner; it's by a woman called Cristina de Middel. I thought it was interesting for two reasons. The first because I thought it was a nice snap but also because I thought it summed up the Spanish attempt at using English. Close but not quite.

Consider that the translations are of one, two and three words - there are several mistakes. Dreadful as our Spanish is we always ask for menus in Castilian because if we get the "translated" version we often simply can't make sense of it.

Roaring log fires

Down in Cartagena it's still a toss up as to whether you will need a jacket to go out. A shirt or a light pullover usually does the job but up here in Culebrón it is distinctly cooler - read cold.

The house is built to keep cool, not warm, and coming inside is like entering an ice box. Normally we pump heat into the living room from a couple of calor gas heaters after we've used the heat setting on the aircon unit to get the room to a reasonable temperature. Yesterday though it was raining too so we decided to stay in and, for the first time this year, we lit the log burner. Warm hands, warm feet - luvverly.