Never Retire: Apagón Eléctrico Masivo

A big event, a normal day, and a quiet reminder that I live in Spain.

Apagón elétrico masivo.

Massive power outage sounds so much more dramatic in Spanish.

A few people checked in to see if we were okay. No pasa nada. In fact, it’s all good.

Other than some still spotty internet on Tuesday morning and some backed-up work to get done, it was a big event that was largely uneventful.

Here’s a timeline of how it went down on the ground—in the areas of Valencia that I roamed—on Monday. Like so much else we discuss on these pages, the day helps illustrate the privilege of being able to live daily life in Spain.

• My day started with a bike ride through a large swath of Valencia. You can see the first leg below. I was going to record the ride, but I was in a bad mood so I didn’t. Too bad because it was a good ride. I’m heading back out today to capture some video of the urban cycling infrastructure in Valencia for Friki de Bici.

• That’s about 6.5km. I stopped at Mestizo for a Fernet and Coke. On the way, I saw a police officer admonish a tourist—in English—for using their mobile while cycling. It’s a 200€ fine for using your phone while cycling—your choice.

• When I arrived back to Russafa I noticed a traffic signal was out. I didn’t think twice. People handled the intersection orderly.

• When I pulled up to our apartment the guy in the shop next door was on the phone out front. He greeted me and said—¿No tenemos luz. Tienes luz? Clearly, something was amiss. He blamed it on Putin and I think I properly said—I have to carry my bike up the stairs! Tengo que llevar mi bici por las escaleras.

• So I did. All six flights.

• Then, I went outside. I was going to read at the cafe next door. But they couldn’t take cards because the power was out. And I didn’t have cash. So I read on a nearby bench. As I sat, I heard people talking about the blackout—en mi casa también!

• This is a view from another bench on another day, but it’s representative of pretty much every corner in the heart of Russafa.

• Then, I went inside, read my book some more, messed with our plants, and waited for my wife to get home. I remembered that she had cash!

• I sent a message to

  Charlie Brown
  , who lives in Portugal, asking if she had electricity. Turned out this was a pretty big blackout. She said no. And I have to admit, it felt pretty fucking cool to text a “neighbor” to check on her status and get more info about what was going on. Little big things like this make me realize that—yes—I actually live in Spain.

• Anyhow, my wife came home and we did what you do in Spain. We did what the built, social, and cultural environments foster and facilitate. We went outside and walked to the bar. La Finestra—super busy with all types of people all of the time, but a hangout for local Italians most weekdays.

• When we walked in, I asked—Las cervezas todavía están frías… in (of course) perfect Spanish. So we sat outside at a table, enjoyed a couple of still cold beers and a bag of chips.

• That was our view. I wish I would have taken pictures of the (mostly) Italians at the next table, our beers, and the many sidewalk terraces packed with people as we walked around, but it never occurred to me. In the moment, it tends not to occur me. I’m not doing anything special. I’m just living life. Simplemente estoy viviendo la vida.

• We also stopped in a local bazaar to buy candles, which we ended up not needing. The lights came back on in our apartment around 6:30pm.

• We decided to go for dinner. Turns out that the lights were still out only a few blocks away. Forced to scrap our original plans we had Chinese food at a little place around the corner.

• In the group chat for the co-working studio where my wife does ceramics, the owner asked if anyone could go see if they still had power and, if so, put the metal, electric-powered (garage-like) door down. It’s mandatory to have these doors in Valencia and—I assume—across Spain.

• So we walked over. Some blocks had power, others didn’t. On the pitch black streets, there were others. Sometimes we were alone. We never thought twice about our safety. El estudio de cerámica no tenía luz. So we couldn’t put the door down. Another co-worker apparently walked by and did it at 1am.

• No sideshows. No looting. No nonsense. No panic. Just streets filled with people, walking and talking and living. A perfect illustration of a great city doing what it does best: being lived in.