Lessons on surviving a Zombie Apocalypse (learned from yesterday's power outage across the Iberian peninsula)
Hint: I won't.....
Our younger son likes to play this game. It’s usually at the end of a long evening together, after eating, drinking, chatting, playing cards, and A and I call time and say ‘We’re old. We really need to go to bed now’.
‘Sure. ‘Night. So… Do you know what I’ll do when the Zombie Apocalypse comes?’
And there we are. Attention button detonated, our 25 year old philosophy Masters’ student-of-a-son is seven again, and pulling his favourite diversion tactic to keep the party going just a little bit longer.
We realise that he has actually spent many hours, tens, hundreds, possibly, working out just how he’ll survive the Collapse of Civilisation as we know it.
Please note. His question involves no ‘ifs’. It’s ‘when’. Not ‘I’d’ but ‘I’ll’.
‘Go on, then. Tell us,’ we’ll both sigh, wearily. ‘But let us make our night-time herbal first.’
Power outage strikes the Iberian peninsula
If yesterday was anything to go by, when the electricity grid that supplies Spain and Portugal with its power went down, leaving the windowless spaces in our apartment in the dark, our fridge warming, and our phones suddenly becoming obsolete as we lost wifi as well as connection to our phone networks, A and I realised that we would be amongst the hors d’ouevres in a zombie apocalypse.
It was around midday and we’d been heading out for a quick bike ride. The weather had turned glorious over the past few days, with thunderstorms threatened for later in the week, so we thought we’d grab the opportunity while we could. We grabbed a bottle of water, and took the lift down to the garage to get our bikes. It it had been just a few minutes later…needless to say, we have stopped taking the lift.
While I waited for A by the exit, the building alarm started sounding, and for a moment I idly wondered if he’d somehow set it off in the garage. But once he’d appeared and as we stared forlornly at the electronically-operated sliding door that was staying mysteriously and stubbornly shut, a neighbour rushed out to exclaim that the electricity had been cut, blaming the workmen here for not knowing how to use a power tool (I struggle with this attitude that forever places blame on Portuguese ‘incompetence’, and I was kinda glad she’d be later proven wrong ) while another (who also later advised us that the best thing to do was to make sangria and wait it out) managed to find the over-ride button and release us from the necessity of hauling our bikes over the wall.
So, still ignorant as to the cause, and assuming it was just local to our building - there is always work going on, and power outages are not uncommon here - A and I set off on our cycle along the coast to Miramar, noting that the traffic lights weren’t working but - again - not so unusual. The cafes and bars looked mostly closed but - again - it was Monday. Closed-day.
Miramar looked idyllic. The sea was blue and calm. A few stripy parasols adorned the beachy horizon. An older woman sat with her feet cooling off in the stream that headed to the sea.
I made A take a photo of me to prove to the world that I do get out and do stuff sometimes, and posted it to my sangria neighbour who’d asked if she might tag along next time we go for a bike ride. Of course. ‘Your turn next’ was my message.
And that was when we learned that the power outage had not been caused by one of the hapless workers with a power-tool he was too unskilled to use but that is was an outage affecting the whole of Portugal and Spain, and some of France, too.
Keep calm and carry on
As I write this, the cause of the outage is still unknown but some of the suggested reasons that spread rapidly - and interestingly not just digitally but word-of-mouth, too - are now known to have been fake news. Spanish university students reportedly messaged each other, fearing that WW3 had broken out. Reports of ‘exceptional atmospheric pressure’ causing the outage had a credibility to them which I certainly bought into, as a meteorological ignoramus.
And I confess. When I got the message that the power had gone out across all of Spain and Portugal, I instantly thought (and replied) ‘Cyber attack?’.
Etiquette across WhatsApp groups (while we could still access them for about an hour after the outage struck) was to shut down such comments, and on reflection that’s probably fair enough - I wouldn’t have shared my comment beyond a personal exchange but it’s just another reminder of how easy it is to spread misinformation, and to fuel fear, often unintentionally.
I mean, I take offence at my neighbour for accusing the workmen, but was my reaction much better?
But I also have this concern that for many of us, on hearing of some calamity, our response seems to be, these days, a collective shrug, so long as it doesn’t have immediate life-or-death implications for us. What about those for whom it does? What about those who would have needed an ambulance but whose phone line was down? What about those depending on electricity for health equipment? What about, what about…
The COVID pandemic saw many of us, at least initially, having a keen sense of our interconnectedness with others, but over time - and thanks in large part to reckless, selfish politicians telling us one thing and doing something else entirely - most of us adopted a ‘C’est la vie’ shrug. Or ‘meh’ as my older son’s favourite word became when I tried to caution him about anything.
As more and more people are daily confronted with challenges, at least, to their normal existence, I wonder whether such fatalism - or complacency - can really cut it for much longer.
Keep calm and carry on… I wonder how many people that adage has led to walk calmly, blindly into disaster?
Wake up call - or just an excuse to head to the beach?
Still, millions of us here in Spain and Portugal have woken up the next day to our power and ‘normal’ lives restored, yet many find ourselves wondering how we’d have dealt with a more serious crisis.
Social media presents the predictable divide, 48:52 style.
On the one hand, you’ve got those impressively capable folk sharing survival tips for the ‘Big One’, certainly more sinister and threatening than a mere power cut, and certainly spurred by the EU’s recent warning to its citizens to stockpile 3 days’ worth of food, water and essentials as the dangers of war, cyberattacks, climate disaster and disease threaten everyone’s normal. To my shopping list I have now added:
Battery-powered transistor radio (even the word ‘transistor’ sounds like the 1940s… and this assumes we’ll be able to understand what is being broadcast… putting ‘Portuguese lessons’ back on the list, higher up the priority scale)
Batteries (delighted that Auchan was open yesterday, we bought sensible chickpeas, tinned fish, and some salad - you’ve got to get your fresh veg when you can - but abjectly failed to buy the 3 double A batteries our single torch needs 🤦🏽♀️)
Tinned fish - we buy loads of this anyway for Monty, but clearly the locals also put this high on their list as the shelves of tinned sardine, mackerel and tuna had been ransacked
Tins of baked beans - if we lose the capacity to heat anything up, I can just about stomach cold baked beans
Chickpeas - I have recently been perfecting my hummus recipe and can probably make it without instructions. And protein, isn’t it? (Happy to share - just ask!)
Spare power bank - which needs to be charged up at all times. Guess whose only had 10% charge left in it yesterday?
Water - we were lucky and didn’t lose our water supply at all, but many here did. Quite how and where we’d store the 100 litres that are recommended, I’m not sure, but we’ll mull that one over
…and peanut butter. It lasts forever and is full of protein - and Monty loves it, for when his tinned fish and dog food runs out…
On the other side of the divide (probably the 52%), Facebook and Instagram posts reminisce about the last time there was a mass shut down - the Covid lockdowns - and remember the nice bits (kids playing, people talking to each other, albeit with 6 feet between them, the skies being unbelievably blue…) and not the rest.
But while yesterday we twiddled our thumbs a bit, A swatting flies, me trying to read ‘Sense and Sensibility’, I did wonder about people who are isolated, dependent, have health needs etc. And of course the poor emergency workers who have to keep going, while others panic-buy tinned fish or take the chance for an extra holiday and head to the beaches…
We are lucky. We don’t have any medical needs, we are generally quite self-sufficient, and we live amongst Portuguese and international neighbours so there is a communication loop of sorts, at least.
How many times does the universe have to give us these little warnings to jolt us out of the complacency that couches even this piece that I’m sharing here with you?
We all take so much for granted. What happens when ‘normal life’ is abruptly halted? When the power goes off? We don’t really need to look too far to see how life can turn on a pin. And after yesterday, I’m not very confident that A or I yet have the skills we’ll need for the zombie apocalypse…
It feels like a bit of a wake-up call.
Share your experience of survival (in or outside of air quotes…)
Were you affected by the power outage here?
Did you go full survival mode or just hit the beach?
How have you responded to the EU’s warning to stock up on 3-days’ worth of survival supplies? If so, what’s gone into your Survival Kit?
However you got through yesterday, if you were affected, I hope you did so safely!
This is a rather spontaneous post in response to yesterday’s happenings so thank you for reading!
There’s a ‘Flittings’ waiting in the wings that looks at ideas of freedom and gardens and paradise… perhaps an unintendedly fitting ‘other side of the coin’!
If you would like to have it drop into your inbox on publication, or read any of the previous ‘Borboleta Letters’ about my life here in Portugal, you may like to hit the subscribe button below. All letters are free to all 😊
As ever - thanks for sharing your thoughts and I enjoyed reading. I agree that life can “turn on a pin” and the fragility of that can be really frightening. We must live for today for tomorrow we may be gone.
I was awaiting news from my Portuguese correspondent/the Portuguese jury - that's you! - as soon as the outage hit. And you delivered. The lack of phone signal would certainly be a shock, and little access to news. The scaremongering seems unnecessary for some, and yet I read today of at least 4 fatalities due to health machinery failing at home. I think we need a bigger plan and to focus on need at a time of crisis. Glad you are back on-line as it where 😊