By Robbie Broughton
Today we went to the town hall to pick up our complimentary face masks supplied by the local council. Actually the ladies of the village have made them from cut-off bits of material and they’re re-usable. Our names were ticked off a list and we were handed over one each: Ellie’s has a little flower pattern while mine is a more manly stripy affair similar to old-fashioned pyjamas.
The middle-aged man with striped pyjama facemask
We tried them on when we got home - they make it quite hard to breathe and I imagine will make you very hot in a short space of time, especially given that summer seems to have come early. We then read the enclosed instructions and found out that we’re supposed to disinfect them before wearing - a drawn out process involving a high temperature wash followed by immersing them in a bleach solution. Will be ironic if we catch coronavirus from trying them on.
First bike ride in 7 weeks
The biggest change came to our lives last weekend when we were allowed to exercise outside for the first time in seven weeks. What a glorious day that was! Any lack of fitness was put aside by the sheer sense of excitement and exhilaration at being let out. It was incredible being out on a road bike again and I for one had a huge grin plastered across my face for the duration of my ride as I remembered that fantastic sense of freedom and joy associated with cycling. I’d forgotten how the sound of the wind in your ears is actually so loud when you pick up a bit of speed. And that sweet sound of rubber tyres humming on tarmac brought back how much I love being on a bike.
Ellie was excited too
Our one restriction is that we have to stay within the confines of our municipality of Selva which isn’t exactly a huge area. We at least have one of the best climbs on the island on our doorstep (Sa Batalla) although the border to the next municipality starts 300m from the top. That first day I didn’t dare venture beyond the boundary despite seeing a couple of other cyclists do so.
The border between Selva and Escorca, 300m from the end of the Strava segment
But the next day I was feeling a little bolder and decided to press on to the very top where there’s a gas station and cafe. It’s also the end of a Strava segment and I wanted to see what my time was. As I crossed the bridge that leads up to the very last bend, only 20m or so before the Col sign, a Guardia Civil car hove into view coming from the opposite direction. I declared ignorance to the officer who was taken in by my dumb Guiri (foreigner) act and let off with a warning when I explained I lived in the village at the bottom of the mountain and I had thought I was still in Selva. Luckily I was let off with a warning, not a 600 Euro fine, but I won’t be risking that again.
Two friends meet at the municipality border
The police, both Guardia and Local, seem to be lurking all over the place ready to pounce on anyone thinking about breaking the regulations, something that I’m really beginning to resent. I’ve never been good with authority and in my 51 years have often found myself arguing against those in charge whether that be teachers at school and university and later, employers. It’s never been very good for me but I guess is just one of those character traits I’ll always have.
So for the moment we have devised a route that only ventures as far as our local borders that we’ve come to call the Tour of Selva. From Caimari there’s a lovely quiet lane to Binibona where we take a right down a new lane for us towards Moscari. Then it’s up to Selva where we wiggle up a dreadfully paved road to Biniamar. Here we have to double back on ourselves and head back to Selva, then Caimari and finish with the 8km climb up to Sa Batalla. We turn round at the border to Escorca, unable to finish the Strava segment to the very top, and weave our way down the hairpins and bomb down the straight sections all the way back home. It’s only about 35km in total but, given that we’re going out most days, we’re managing to get a fair few clicks in over a week which is helping to build up fitness again.
Focaccia (thanks, Anna, for the recipe)
And talking of fitness, it hasn’t exactly helped our waistlines that we’ve been indulging in some truly fantastic meals over the last couple of months. We were just saying last night that neither of us have had such a sustained period of fine dining in all our lives. With the weather warming up we’ve had some terrific barbecues - salmon, bream, mackerel, guinea fowl, chicken and a good old-fashioned banger blow-out with homemade coleslaw. We’ve been digging out some old recipe books, old favourites like Rick Stein’s India (Oh My God, the butter chicken), Ottolenghi and some Spanish classics like tortilla. My daughter Anna sent me over a brilliant focaccia recipe which was an amazing combo with the grilled mackerel and the leftovers went pretty well with fried eggs for breakfast.
0% alcohol
Lots of people have been commenting on how much they’ve been drinking in lockdown and we’ve been trying to restrict the amount of wine we consume. I don’t think we’re alone as we shame-facedly put out our empties for collection on a Tuesday morning. My brother Tim recommended an alcohol-free Rose by Torres which is actually delicious and, while the equivalent white and red don’t quite match that brilliance, they just about keep our alcohol consumption down to an acceptable level. Ironically the alcohol free stuff is much more expensive than the local real wine we prefer to quaff down so readily.
Espe gets too hot and has to carried
Our other new-found freedom is being allowed to take our dog Espe out for longer walks. We’re now allowed to stray a whole 1km (yipee!) from our front door which means we can venture into the pine forest behind the village. It’s been great to see her let off the lead and bound over the rocks and vegetation with such energy again.
Next week, please, fingers crossed, we will be allowed to invite people round and we plan to have a bbq by the pool. We may also be allowed to our local restaurant which will operate at 50% capacity and only on its terrace.
So there does seem to be some light at the end of the tunnel. Our biggest concern right now is when our kids will be allowed to fly out to see us again, or for us to make a visit to the UK to see them. Things back there look pretty bleak with the country now topping the chart for the most deaths in Europe. While our lockdown here in Spain has been draconian and, even now, we have less freedom than people in the UK, it looks like we’ll be out the other side much, much earlier. One thing is certain. I will never, ever, take for granted the freedom to go out to exercise as, when and where I please ever again.