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'Writing Inspired by an Island in the Atlantic'

Embalming Anyone?

The unexpected phone call from the mortuary in Las Palmas immediately took my attention. Was I in a position to pay the outstanding account at the mortuary? This really was not the kind of call that anyone would wish to receive first thing in the morning, and particularly when one is struggling to make sense of the world before coffee.

I assured the very pleasant lady at the other end of the line that I had no previous knowledge of their service and that, no, I did not have any kind of account with them, nor did I have one that was due for payment. However, I assured her, that I would keep her number on file - just in case I needed a spot of embalming in the future. One just never knows when such services might be required. The very nice lady even offered to send me a brochure about their range of services...

The early morning telephone call reminded me of a series of articles that I wrote as a newspaper reporter several years ago about ‘Death in Spain’. The series of articles were intended to be a helpful guide in managing one of most traumatic times of our lives, and to assist expats in making the right choices in a country with different customs and traditions in dealing with death. The articles were not exactly a bundle of laughs and not ones that would, at first sight, encourage advertisers to promote their new restaurant or estate agency on that particularly page; however, the series was very popular with readers. I recall one elderly gentleman who shuffled into the newspaper office to ask for back copies of the newspaper. He was asked why he wanted them. “It’s those Death pages”, he muttered, “my wife reckons she’ll be needing them soon.”

Although it is not really a subject that is often discussed over dinner, or over a gin and tonic on the balcony, thoughts about our passing and those of our loved ones should be considered seriously, particularly when living as an expat in another country. Do we have a will in the country that we are residing in, for instance? I know of many expats who are relying solely on wills made in the UK many years ago. However, lawyers assure me that this arrangement is potentially fraught with difficulties and that all expats should also have a Spanish will, as well as their UK one.

What about bodies? It is traditional, and good sense because of the heat, that bodies are cremated or buried very quickly in Spain, and often within two or three days. This is in contrast to the UK where bodies can be waiting for two or three weeks before funerals can be arranged. Over here, the final departure is quick, which adds more pressure to be clear about the wishes of the deceased.

In the event of your demise would you prefer to be flown back to the UK at considerable expense, cremated in your newly adopted country and then sent back in a pot, or popped into one of those filing cabinet tomb arrangements that seem to be popular in Spain? What about costs? Has provision been made to cover the cost of repatriation, for instance? Do you have a funeral expenses insurance policy? These are all very serious issues, I know, but ones that need to be considered carefully and wishes made clear to dependents.

Now, back to that early morning telephone call. I am still wondering why that very nice lady at the mortuary called me...

© Barrie Mahoney

From the 'Letters from the Atlantic' series by Barrie Mahoney

Living in Spain and the Canary Islands : ISBN 978-0995602724

Click here to find out more

The Ship that Died

I am not a great lover of things nautical; after all I tend to get seasick when having a bath if the water is too deep. However, the recent announcement of a new ferry service from Las Palmas in Gran Canaria to Huelva in Peninsular Spain, with a journey time of just over one day, as compared to nearly three days on the alternative service, set me thinking about a once-beautiful ship now lying off a beach on our neighbouring island of Fuerteventura.

This is the story of SS America, a luxury liner that was launched the day before Hitler invaded Poland and brought the world to war in 1939. It was not an auspicious start for a cruise liner that had to be immediately converted into a troop carrier that would not carry the planned 1200 passengers on a luxury cruise, but was destined to become a troop-carrying vessel that would carry up to 8000 troops to war.

The ship was renamed, West Point, and she carried troops around the world. Later, she was confined to the North Atlantic route where her speed and manoeuvrability were ideal to outwit German U boats, gale force winds and the treacherous sea. Troops were carried from the USA to Europe and wounded soldiers, as well as prisoners of war, shipped back to America.

After wartime duties, the SS America resumed life as a cruise ship and was seen as one of the most beautiful of the American fleet. After 24 years of service, the ship’s career ended abruptly due to labour disputes and the growing popularity of air travel. The SS America was sold to a Greek shipping company, renamed Australis, and began a new life transporting British passengers who were emigrating to a new life in Australia, as part of a campaign to increase its population. Later, the assisted passage scheme was gradually phased out and long haul flights made air travel more attractive than a long voyage at sea, and in 1977 the Australis made her last voyage to Australia.

There were attempts to reinstate the ship for cruises once again. The SS America was given her original name and intended to resume life as a floating casino. The first voyage in 1978 was a disaster and angry passengers forced the ship to return to port. The shipping company was sued for $2.5 million and the SS America was held as a surety against debt; the ship’s fate was sealed, and the SS America was to be auctioned.

The vessel was then repurchased by her previous Greek owners and was intended to be used as a Mediterranean cruise ship. Italis, as she was renamed, never put to sea. She was sold again in 1980 and renamed Noga, and this time destined to be a floating hotel in Beruit. This plan did not materialise and so this once proud ship was due to be returned to the USA to become a prison ship, but that fell through too. She was sold again and renamed Alferdoss, which means ‘Paradise’ in Arabic. Sadly, it was nothing like paradise and for ten years the ship rotted until damage to her bilge pipe meant that she had to be beached to prevent sinking.

Finally, a consortium bought her and gave her yet another new name, the America Star. A star she was no longer and, as she was being towed to Thailand to be converted into a floating hotel, the towrope broke in stormy weather off Fuerteventura. She broke into two pieces and what little remains has been slowly disappearing into the sea, leaving part of the bow remaining above the water. This once proud vessel is waiting to be finally claimed by the sea.

© Barrie Mahoney

From the 'Letters from the Atlantic' series by Barrie Mahoney

Living in Spain and the Canary Islands : ISBN 978-0995602724

Click here to find out more

Lighthouses and Lime Kilns

There are many lighthouses in the Canary Islands and locals and many visitors will know that there is a particularly fine one at Maspalomas in Gran Canaria. The lighthouse, or Faro in Spanish, helps sailors to navigate their ships and is an integral part of sea-life. Usually, they are cylindrical towers with a light on top, and emit a fixed sequence of beams that is unique to a particular lighthouse. Built in 1980, the Maspalomas lighthouse is still operational and, for those who like full details, provides 3 white flashes every 13 seconds. Before lighthouses were invented, sailors were warned of hazards by the lighting of fires along the coastline.

Since visiting these islands for the first time many years ago, I am often amazed to discover the strategic and important place that these small islands and its people have in history. Indeed, these islands pack a far greater punch than their size would lead most to believe. The development of the lighthouse is just one of these intrigues. Let us now visit Plymouth in Devon, and stand on Plymouth Hoe, looking out to sea into the impressive expanse of Plymouth Sound...

About 14 miles from the coast stands the Eddystone Lighthouse, which is the fourth lighthouse to be built on the treacherous Eddystone Rocks. Earlier attempts had either caught fire or were washed away, with the exception of one. This was the lighthouse called Smeaton’s Tower, which now stands proudly on Plymouth Hoe and was once used to guard against those treacherous rocks.

In 1756, an engineer called John Smeaton was asked by the Royal Society to design the third Eddystone Lighthouse. His inspiration was to be an oak tree - a tall, natural object that could withstand gales without breaking. He used 1,493 blocks of stone, rather like the rings of a tree, dove-tail jointed together with marble dowels and oak pins. Now this is the clever part, Smeaton also pioneered the use of hydraulic lime, a form of concrete that would set under water. This lime came from Arinaga, in Gran Canaria.

Since ancient times, the small coastal town of Arinaga, operated a small cottage industry for the extraction and burning of lime. Quicklime from the Arinaga furnaces was sold throughout the islands and beyond its shores, which led to increased prosperity and economic expansion. It was this quicklime from Arigaga that made the building of Smeaton’s Tower possible.

In the early twentieth century, the first cement plant in Arguineguin opened and demanded a lot of hydraulic lime, as well as being needed for agriculture, buildings, ports and roads. Most of the lime produced in Gran Canaria came from Arinaga, where dozens of workers worked in this industry. The industry is now long gone, but some of the old furnaces have been carefully restored and preserved and can still be seen at the end of the beach in Arinaga, as a memento of its proud contribution to the building industry on the island and beyond. It is inspiring to think that a combination of Smeaton’s inspired design and highly advanced engineering skills still required the contribution of Canary Islanders over 2000 miles away!

Smeaton’s Tower protected shipping in Plymouth Sound for 120 years and when it was finally replaced in 1882, it was dismantled stone by stone and rebuilt on Plymouth Hoe. It still stands as a permanent reminder of the very clever engineer who created it, with just a little help from the lime workers of Arinaga!

© Barrie Mahoney

From the 'Letters from the Atlantic' series by Barrie Mahoney

Living in Spain and the Canary Islands : ISBN 978-0995602724

Click here to find out more

It’s Hot Up My Barranco!

“Phew, it’s hot up my barranco today, darling,” gasped Miranda as she staggered down the street carrying two large and heavy bags of clattering bottles from the local supermarket. Before you get too carried away by imagining a doctor about to don a pair of surgical gloves for some emergency female probing, I should explain that Miranda is one of the village’s more colourful characters. She is a school assistant in one of the less classy private schools by day and a tattooist by night. I once asked if there was any conflict of interest between her two jobs. She screeched loudly in my ear, before resting her mug of gin on top of my car.

“No, not at all, darling. It’s a great way to help the kids with their reading.”

I must have looked puzzled, as I thought I knew a thing or two about teaching children to read, and she seemed to read my thoughts.

“You see, I have all the letters of the alphabet tattooed all over my body somewhere, so I use those to help children to read. If it’s Tina the Tiresome Transvestite we are reading, I just point out this letter “T” on my arm and then we find the picture of the Tina on my back. Easy, the kids love it.”

“So you have all the letters and associated pictures somewhere on your body?”

“Oh, yes, darling, but I should say that some are more difficult to find than others. We tend to keep off the “Y” and “Z” words otherwise I would get the sack, darling. If you know what I mean!” She guffawed loudly, as she nudged me in the ribs and winked knowingly.

I think you are probably getting the idea of what Miranda is like. A lovely lady, but back in the UK I would be surprised if she had a job. However, over here, I am much more open-minded.

As Miranda dropped her bags by my front gate and she propped herself on my parked car, she watched what I was doing with some amusement. I stopped washing the hedge (actually it is one of those plastic ones, but I do like to freshen it up a bit from time to time) and it is always a good opportunity to remove the crisp packets and condoms from its branches.

“You are home early today. Is everything alright?”

“Darling, it’s the heat. It is just so hot. I tell you, darling, it was 41ºC up my barranco at lunchtime. It was just too much darling. We sent the little dears home early, because they were just fading away.”

I tried to imagine Miranda’s boisterous pupils fading away and thought it highly unlikely. We have a number of calimas, although some people call them siroccos, on the islands each year, and the islanders are generally conditioned to withstand them, and it is the expats who suffer. They can be a little unpleasant for a few days, bringing with them very high temperatures from Africa and the Sahara. In my own village, when the wind disappears, it is a case of staying inside as much as possible with air-conditioning on and plenty of cool drinks. These heat waves can occur at any time during the year, but they are less common during the cooler months.

Miranda’s school is situated in a barranco, a Spanish word for ravine. Some would say that was a foolish place to build it, because of potential sudden rainstorms, but I guess the land was cheap. Anyway, I suspect it was built to withstand the heat and would have air conditioning installed as essential.

“I was pleased to get home early, darling. I needed to get ready for the bonfire this evening.”

“Bonfire? In this heat!” I exclaimed.

“Darling, tomorrow is the Festival of St John the Baptist. A most important religious festival! You mustn’t miss that. We are having a bonfire party tonight to celebrate. Not here you understand, but outside Telde. It’s traditional you know, darling. You really must come. You don’t have to be a Catholic, just bring a bottle!”

So there we have it. We are in the middle of a calima where daytime temperatures are around 40ºC, in the shade, and the good people of Telde are planning a bonfire party to celebrate St John the Baptist. The activities on this island never cease to surprise me.

© Barrie Mahoney

From the 'Letters from the Atlantic' series by Barrie Mahoney

Living in Spain and the Canary Islands : ISBN 978-0995602724

Click here to find out more

Anyone Here Called Juan?

I am very fond of pizza; that is if I can find one that is vegetarian. Being vegetarian, I have sometimes found it very difficult to get across the message that a ‘pizza vegetal’ is pizza without the inclusion of flesh of any kind. I have been presented with supposedly vegetarian pizzas laced with generous dollops of tuna, a fried egg and even a generous sprinkling of ham, which I thought was red pepper, before my stomach started heaving and I headed like a bullet for the door.

No, it has not been easy being a vegetarian in Spain and the Canary Islands, but I have now found the perfect pizzeria, or cafe bar to be more accurate. Personally, I think that the pizzas produced there are some of the best on the island - a perfect combination of a thin, not too crisp base and a perfectly cooked range of seasonal vegetables. We often have a take away pizza ready for a night in front of the television with a good film.

A few days ago I telephoned to place our usual order. Instead of the usually cheery bar owner/chef answering the telephone, came a sleepy voice. “Er, can you call back later please? The ovens have still not heated up”. I thought this strange, as the cafe bar opened at 7.00pm and by now it was nearly 8.00pm, which I know is still very early for Canarians to eat. I hoped that this was not the beginning of the end for yet another cafe bar, forced to lay off staff and eventually close because of the effects of the recession.

When I finally arrived at the bar to collect my order, the chef gave me a cheeky grin and told me that he was thankful for my call, because he had overslept and my call had woken him! The bar was, by now, full of elderly and middle aged men, some with a beer in hand watching sport on the television, others playing on the gaming machine, whilst others simply propped themselves against the bar, no drink in hand, but obviously there just for the company. One younger man was cheerfully helping himself to a shot from behind the bar - after all, the bar owner was still cooking my pizzas, yet I noticed he carefully placed a number of coins by the till. It was a very Canarian scene.

Suddenly the door burst open and a small boy of about six or seven burst into the bar frantically waving a mobile phone above his head.

“Anyone here called Juan?” he yelled (in Spanish, of course).

Suddenly the noise stopped, all the men turned and faced the small boy and three quarters of them stood up and shouted back “I’m Juan”, before helpless laughter broke out in the bar. The small boy looked puzzled before he ran off followed by several of the men. I would love to have known what the urgent message was about.

Although I have not checked any surveys of the most popular names used in the Canary Islands, I would guess, without a doubt, that the most popular name for men of a certain age in my village is Juan, and the best place to find them is in our pizzeria.

© Barrie Mahoney

From the 'Letters from the Atlantic' series by Barrie Mahoney

Living in Spain and the Canary Islands : ISBN 978-0995602724

Click here to find out more

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