Life in Cartagena

I've just walked back from the pictures. This is not an exciting event in itself. In fact this isn't an exciting post. It's here because I'm feeling a bit guilty. I've just realised that I didn't make a single Life in Cartagena entry all through December. How can it be that there's more to write about in sleepy Culebrón than in the city? So back to the pictures. We tend to go to a multiplex run by a local cinema chain in the Mandarache Shopping Centre. The truth is that but for the cinema the centre would almost certainly have closed by now. It's a shopping centre that has never worked properly. The majority of the shop units are empty, even the Burger King closed down, but for months now there has been structural work going on and a big gaudy sign outside to say "  Economato -  Opening Soon." I just presumed that Economato was the name of some ultracheap supermarket chain but apparently not. In the past economatos were stores that sold t...

It's nowhere near Christmas in Spain yet. There are signs though. On the telly there is an IKEA ad with a Christmas theme as well as a mobile phone ad with a bloke in a yellow Santa suit. In a shop close by, Ale Hop, they have a blow up Christmas tree for sale. But this year I was determined not to be caught unawares. One of the Christmas traditions here is the Belén. The word means Bethlehem but it's actually a representation of the birth of Jesus with Mary, Joseph, the Wise men, the shepherds etc. We've got a Belén. The stable we bought in a Carrefour supermarket and the majority of the figures in a cheapy cheap Chinese shop. I've hankered after a better version for years but usually I leave it too late. By the time we get around to visiting one of the Christmas markets where the hand crafted key figures and all the trappings are on sale we've already put up the Christmas tree, laid out our Belén and dusted off the seasonal CDs. Maggie isn't keen on...

As I came home at lunchtime the streets in the centre of town were heaving with shoppers. In the little square by the Icue statue there was a long queue of youngsters waiting to have their picture taken with whichever one of the Three Kings was on duty. I know it wasn't the African one, Baltasar, and I don't think it was Melchor because, if memory serves me right, he has a big white beard to prove he's European so it was probably Gaspar the darker skinned Asian representative. I could be wrong of course because I wasn't brought up with the iconography of the Three Kings. Strictly Santa Claus in Yorkshire. At work this evening one of my students seemed most put out that I'd never heard of Swarovski jewellery or more particularly their glassware. He'd bought his girlfriend something from their range for Christmas. Just to make sure that the message was rammed well and truly home my last student of the evening asked if I was ready for Christmas. She confessed t...

The first time was in Santa Pola as I remember. We were new to Spain and I was in a shop that sold fishing tackle. I spent two or three euros. There were three of us. Despite turning up mob handed and the meaness of our purchase the shopkeeper pressed us to take a little something and to have a wee dram. At Christmas it's not at all unusual for a shop, an office or even a bar to have a tray full of seasonal delicacies like turrón, mantecadós and polvorónes on offer for customers. Sometimes the offer runs to liquers or spirits. A touch of seasonal cheer. I was in the dentist the other day. Lots of glistening packets. "Sugar free I suppose," I said, innocently. "Sweets wouldn't be sweets without sugar" said the receptionist. Spain, still refreshingly unreformed and unrepentant.

I bought a roscón this afternoon. After all the Three Kings will be delivering Christmas presents all over Spain tonight and it seemed churlish not to join in by chomping my way through one of these large, doughnut shaped cakes that are part of the traditional fare for the celebration. The Three Kings were on the news - arriving by boat in Cartagena, Barcelona and Alicante, by helicopter in Ceuta, on the AVE train in Albacete, cruising in stretch limos and riding elephants and camels in Cantabria. I was at work till eight and the parade of the Kings through Cartagena began at six but, on the off chance, I joined the throng of last minute Christmas shoppers and the people milling around simply because that's what you do before and after the parade. It was hard walking, fighting the prams and strolling, chatting, snack eating pedestrians but down near the port it was obvious that the crowd was still awaiting the arrival of their Majesties the Magician Kings. I watched the parad...

Christmas is only just about to get underway here. The shop displays are still a bit half hearted and none of the Christmas lights are lit yet but at least the circus is in town. In fact there are circuses in both Cartagena and in Culebrón at the moment so we have ample choice. Not that I've been to a circus for twenty or thirty years and not that I'd go anywhere near any of the many Spanish ones that still degrade bears, lions, elephants, horses and (If the poster is to be believed) crocodiles in front of their audiences. They are very much part of the Christmas run up in Spain and I do keep thinking that if there were one where the only acts were of the strong men, contortionists, knife throwers, tightrope walkers and juggler type I'd give it a go. Maggie is dead against the idea though and the thought of sitting there alone and friendless amidst the glittery costumes and grease paint just seems a touch too Smokey Robinson.

I'm just pottering around the flat and, in the background, the youngsters of San Ildefonso school are singing out the winning numbers in this year's Christmas draw, El Gordo. It's almost like plain chant "such and such a number miiil euros" - the prize that gets you 100€ for your 20€ stake. As a foreigner it's definitely one of the most Spanish sounds I know and an absolute sure sign that it really is Christmas here in Spain. Just as I was about to publish they've drawn the first of the big prizes, fourth, worth 20,000€ per tenth of a ticket. Not mine I'm afraid. They must be keeping the fat one for me. And there goes the fifth prize, just 50,000€ or 5,000€ for a decimo. Still not me. And yet another fifth prize, I may never get to finish this post!

I'm not sure that I've ever seen a Spanish Charity Shop before. There are a couple of British run ones in Pinoso so I suppose there are hundreds of others dotted around Malaga and Alicante but today, in Cartagena, we bumped into this shop called Obras son Amores y no Buenas Razones (Actions speak louder than words.) The profits seemed destined to support a residence for old people. You will notice that they are tooled up for Christmas.

These council workmen are setting up the shelter that will house the Christmas nativity scene, the Belén or Pesebre. They seem to be using the roots of this rather large rubber tree as part of the scenery. Imagine, getting ready for Christmas already!