Frustration and release

 

 

 

Most days I get up at 6.15 am to get ready for my morning swim at 7 am in the local pool.  As it is August, I have the luxury of a lie in until 7.15 am as the pool opens at 8 am for that month.

     I would like to say that I feel a sense of smug satisfaction for rising so early and taking physical exercise before many people have stirred from their beds - and I suppose I do.  But, the thing is that I find it difficult to stay in bed after my accustomed rising time.  When I was working I went for a swim before work started and I have sort of continued that regime.  If truth be told, I do not really ‘lie in’ with any degree of sincerity.  At the time that I need to get up, I get up and if I try and stay in bed I feel uncomfortable.  So, my soft, musical alarm on my mobile phone goes off and I get up.

     This morning, my arrival at the pool was greeted by what appeared to be a small meeting at the gate.  It turned out that the increasing murkiness of the water in the pool over the last couple of days had prompted the technical services to Do Something and thus “product” had been added to the water, but for the “product” to work, we swimmers had to be excluded.

     The helpful message from management that the pool was closed was sent to members of the leisure centre via email at 10.10 am today, that is some two hours after we arrived to start our swim.  Sigh!

     I made the best of a bad job and decided to go for an extended bike ride from the pool to Port Ginesta, so that I could tell myself that I had kept up my morning exercise.

     Admittedly the effort of cycling those kilometres was somewhat mitigated by the fact that I have an electric bike and I make full (full!) use of its electric capabilities, but it is still exercise under the meaning of the act and as such it is duly recorded by my Smartwatch and adds to my daily PAI rating (whatever that is) – one of those acronyms linked to health and exercise that, in spite of its meaning being ambiguous (or even unknown) is something I take semi-seriously and try and maintain a rating of 100 or as near as I can get.  Because, yes.

     Not only did I go all the way to the beach in Port Ginesta, but I also went as far as the Gavà bike lane could take me in the opposite direction, which amounts to a total of 17.85 km which, even on an electric bike (for me) is quite a lot.

     Not that the electric bike is my only form of ‘personal’ transport.  The electric scooter was taken out of the boot of the car AGAIN yesterday and I used it to get to our favourite ice cream shop as a jaunt to get out of the house.

     I am not a natural bike rider, but I am semi-professional compared with my shaky progress on the scooter.  On the scooter, like a highly-strung thoroughbred horse, I am spooked by: anything other than a completely level surface, traffic, people, turns, crossings, pavements, other scooter users, hills, slopes and the state of the world.  I do not, I have to admit, exude confidence when I am a-wheel, but it is the only way that I can match Toni’s walking without having to pay the price in pain for days afterwards!

     So far, my two trips on the scooter means that I have paid 150 euros per trip, given the total cost of the purchase.  A sobering thought.

 

 

The weather is a little cooler, I think, but that doesn’t make me particularly happy.  Yes, the sort of heat that we have been experiencing has been of a different quality than in previous years, but I’d still prefer that to the cold of winter – that any diminution of heat now makes me far is almost upon us!  But that is only may paranoia speaking.  I hope.

New Normal 3? 4? 5? – Who knows? Day 1, Monday.

 

 

 

The first swim for weeks!

     It was only after I had jumped in that I realized how much I had missed this particular form of daily exercise.  There is something about the enveloping support of lukewarm water that is immensely satisfying.  Even my rudimentary warm-up exercises seemed to bring neglected muscles back into play, and the swim itself was ‘easy’ – not without effort you understand, but comfortable and known.  I swam 1600 metres and could have swum more, but the temptation of a café made cup of tea and bocadillo were irresistible and so I had my just reward for early morning effort and sufficient ‘fuel’ for the bike ride to Port Ginesta and back.

     There are changes to what used to be the changed routine of pre-this-lockdown.  Although the numbers for swimming are the same (maximum of ten pre-booked people per hour spread over five lanes) we are now no longer allowed to put our clothes in the lockers provided, we have to take them with us to the pool side.  We are no longer allowed to shower after the swim.  We can use the poolside showers immediately before and after the swim, but an extended shower with soap in the changing room is no longer acceptable.

     In the café attached to the pool, the door is constantly open to facilitate a greater flow of air; part of the seating area has been taped off to keep within the 30% capacity and the tables that are in use have been more widely spaced out.  The terrace space can be fully utilized, but although bright and sunny, this is no weather for sitting outside.

     Masks must be worn in all areas of the centre except when eating and drinking.  This does not apply to smokers for reasons that I cannot fathom.  Why should leeway we allowed to those with a filthy and dangerous habit?  In a centre dedicated to health and exercise!

     I have to admit that I felt mildly exhilarated after my bike ride – exercise – swim – exercise - tea and bocadillo - bike ride!  I think it was more to do with getting back into an almost forgotten regime than the beneficial effect of more effort than usual over the past few weeks.

     I even managed to scribble down a few comments and ideas in my notebook, though I think that their more than usual mundanity means that they have little chance of being worked up into something more substantial.  But at least notes were made!

     Carles (the man who swims in the lane next to me and is a keen learner of English) was keen to find out different ways of expressing ‘death’, so I compiled a list of expressions off the top of my head ranging from “snuffed it” to “shuffled off this mortal coil”, though Carles was more interested in “passed away” and “taken by god” as being more relatable to Catalan/Spanish and using English words with which he was familiar.  I also gave him “kicked the bucket” to think about, which took a great deal of explaining and made me wonder just where the expression came from and why.

     And of course, I could not resist and I have just looked up the possible derivations and now possess more information than is usefully necessary in connection with the expression.  For the sake of brevity, I will go with the suggestion that the bucket was something kicked away from under the feet of a person about to be hanged.  But there is much more if you care to look!

 

 

 Not only is today the first time for weeks that I have been able to have a swim in the local pool, it will also be the first time that we will be able to go to a restaurant and have a menu del dia.  Replete with masks and tubes of hygienic, alcohol-heavy hand wash, we will venture into the centre of town and re-patronize one of our favourite restaurants Olave.

     While the food is generally good to excellent, the usp for me is the fact that they provide Catalan bread, i.e. toasted bread with ripe tomatoes and garlic to squeeze and scrape.  Sometimes this bread is the best part of the meal!

     To be frank, we are so eager to get back into the habit of eating out, that virtually anything will be a treat!  Though, I have to say that it is relatively easy to find a more-than-acceptable meal at a reasonable cost in Castelldefels.  While that is true, I also have to admit that my standards have risen appreciably since I have lived here.  When I first arrived, the delight I felt at virtually anything that was put in front of me meant that my critical gastronomic abilities were somewhat deadened.  Now, I am more demanding – much to Toni’s satisfaction, as he feels that I am getting more and more attuned to what is best in Catalan cooking.  Though sincerely liking the lumpen, solid fat of fuet is still a major stumbling block to my wholesale acceptance of Catalan cooking and food as the ideal!