We wake up to water on tap and more of the same heat. I take a good shower, just in case. If the equation is cold, outdoor showers equals camping, then count me out.
By this afternoon, the temperature is back up to 37+degrees though with a cooling light breeze and occasional cloud cover. The effect of ‘oven outside and fridge inside’ effect is lessening which is in part due to the lounge, which is upstairs, has now come up to a similar temperature to that outside. Our bedroom which is downstairs and built into the ground, hardly changes in temperature year round. And as there are no windows in the room we are only aware of the arrival of dawn when slivers of light creep through the cracks in the two double doors. Conversely, they look like tiny stars glimmering in the night sky. Clever people these Palmerans.
This morning, we had internet connection so we could read the news regarding the receding flood water in the UK. Of course the lack of running water remains a critical issue and we are aware that many people are currently sleeping in schools and shelters and have nothing but devastation to return to. After our small stint without water, it seems almost cheeky to sympathize.
However, we are tested a little during the day when we discover that the casita water heater has sprung a fairly serious leak. Luckily, I know a man that can talk some sense into it. However, it proves less then willing to be re-fitted to its connections which turn out to be non-horizontal and non-parellel to each other. Some heavy tools are needed for their ability in persuasion.
Later in the day, on questioning Julio as to why there has been no water, he characteristically brings it all down to politics. Albilio, the newly elected mayor of Garafia is a Socialist, he reminds us and this is where the fault lies. We have had 4 years of trouble free government under the Coalition Canarias (whom obviously Julio votes for) and now, with the first real heat, ‘look what happens! Pah’
Ophelia at the village shop tells us differently. She says that the influx of people coming to their country houses in the area has caused the shortage. Well, yes, Ana and Pepe would fall into the category of people and since there are 8 of them when they come for holidays that multiplied by however many other visitors would add to the elevated usage of water. But since they too have been without water (8 people without a shower or flushing toilet does not bear thinking about), the argument does not, can I say, hold water.
Suffice to say that David and I are not convinced and may yet seek further guessed, yet positively held, conclusions. Our vote would have to go with a burst water pipe theory, though that will hardly win any points in interest value.
By evening, the sun has relented by 5 degrees and it makes all the difference. We become semi-nocturnal, watering hard and long in the fading light. It is a joy to be outside, now full of energy and zeal that we thought had disappeared for ever. Actually, it is my favourite time of day. Our land to the west drops off sharply from the now sun-bleached terraces into a dramatic gorse and rock filled ravine which creeps out to the nearby sea. Facing us directly opposite is what is aptly known as Anden Verde – Green Peak. It rises up in a no-nonsense way to 500m from the ravine below and this along with the collaboration of the mountains to the north forms an amphitheatre. In the evenings, it is a playground for sparrow hawks, kestrels, Canarian yellow-chested finch and darting swallows. And when they have finished with their final exuberance of the day, a special sort of stillness sets in. You can feel yourself become part of the quiet, part of the landscape. An inequivicable black line is drawn where the mountains meet the sky and it is time for all good people to return indoors for the night.
However, not all things to all men are all the same. Take Ana and Pepe for instance. The cool of the night means only one thing to them – party! Now back up from the terraces and at the house, we can hear and vaguely see that tables and chairs are dragged outside while voices call out, ‘Where shall I put the paella? / get the glasses will you? / anyone seen the wine / Ow! Who put that there?
We shudder a little, thinking of our guests now that they will probably have gone to bed, and hope they are not having a holiday from hell – terrible heat, no water, noisy neighbours ……
But quite soon, it all settles down and the now soft murmuring voices drift inside. It is after all already tomorrow.
Later in the day, on questioning Julio as to why there has been no water, he characteristically brings it all down to politics. Albilio, the newly elected mayor of Garafia is a Socialist, he reminds us and this is where the fault lies. We have had 4 years of trouble free government under the Coalition Canarias (whom obviously Julio votes for) and now, with the first real heat, ‘look what happens! Pah’
Ophelia at the village shop tells us differently. She says that the influx of people coming to their country houses in the area has caused the shortage. Well, yes, Ana and Pepe would fall into the category of people and since there are 8 of them when they come for holidays that multiplied by however many other visitors would add to the elevated usage of water. But since they too have been without water (8 people without a shower or flushing toilet does not bear thinking about), the argument does not, can I say, hold water.
Suffice to say that David and I are not convinced and may yet seek further guessed, yet positively held, conclusions. Our vote would have to go with a burst water pipe theory, though that will hardly win any points in interest value.
By evening, the sun has relented by 5 degrees and it makes all the difference. We become semi-nocturnal, watering hard and long in the fading light. It is a joy to be outside, now full of energy and zeal that we thought had disappeared for ever. Actually, it is my favourite time of day. Our land to the west drops off sharply from the now sun-bleached terraces into a dramatic gorse and rock filled ravine which creeps out to the nearby sea. Facing us directly opposite is what is aptly known as Anden Verde – Green Peak. It rises up in a no-nonsense way to 500m from the ravine below and this along with the collaboration of the mountains to the north forms an amphitheatre. In the evenings, it is a playground for sparrow hawks, kestrels, Canarian yellow-chested finch and darting swallows. And when they have finished with their final exuberance of the day, a special sort of stillness sets in. You can feel yourself become part of the quiet, part of the landscape. An inequivicable black line is drawn where the mountains meet the sky and it is time for all good people to return indoors for the night.
However, not all things to all men are all the same. Take Ana and Pepe for instance. The cool of the night means only one thing to them – party! Now back up from the terraces and at the house, we can hear and vaguely see that tables and chairs are dragged outside while voices call out, ‘Where shall I put the paella? / get the glasses will you? / anyone seen the wine / Ow! Who put that there?
We shudder a little, thinking of our guests now that they will probably have gone to bed, and hope they are not having a holiday from hell – terrible heat, no water, noisy neighbours ……
But quite soon, it all settles down and the now soft murmuring voices drift inside. It is after all already tomorrow.
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