The council, certainly, already has proven experience in the matter. But it is not the kale borroka of other times that set the street furniture on fireIt was a protest of angry young and not so young people, fed up with masks, which ignited as soon as the owners of the bars, much to their regret, began to throw them out on the street because the curfew had already sounded.
Young extremists and denialist groups they excrete their rabies in the drinking areas, so far and so close to the hospital. At ten o’clock the anger accumulated in the pandemic is uncorked. There is a strange ultra background lurking behind. From Pamplona, a local police officer sums it up: “They were left without confinement in July and now they want to run to us in November.”
Angela, a receptionist at a hotel in the center of the capital of Biscay, crosses the street when leaving work, at dawn, trying to avoid the areas where The smoke lingers, so black and toxic, which releases the plastic when burning. And send a mobile video to friends to warn: “Guys, Indautxu …”.
ETA or covid
“Who was going to say a year ago that we were going to be seeing kids protest against what a virus does?” Reflects the guard of the Ramón Rubial street parking lot. The unhinged phenomenon of container burning has spread through Bilbao, Barcelona, Burgos, Logroño, Madrid… in community transmission, in the manner of the covid.
At the moment, in Bilbao and in the morning it seems that nothing has happened. TO the Guggenheim door, where some couples peacefully sunbathe on a clean terrace, the old women Maite and Teresa– “We are the two teresas”, they say, they walk arm in arm towards the red arch of the La Salve bridge.
“The ones in the containers are four cats, huh? Do not think. Here everyone agrees that you have to confine yourself, “says Teresa without support from demos.” They are kids who ride it because they take away the jalovín, “he adds in reference to the Celtic festival of all saints.
Neither Maite nor Teresa fear the virus “if you go carefully.” “They have only” had two cases in Teresa’s family, “and because they are doctors in Basurto. It is clear that they were infected there,” he explains. And Maite states that, in terms of fear, there were worse days: “It is now much safer than in the days of ETA“.
“Confinement is in the soul
The two grandmothers leave, skirting the large flower dog that guards the door of the museum. The people of Bilbao have taken advantage of the holiday to pray, and in the pinchos bars there is a demediated parish, somewhat quieter but persistent in its custom of chiquitear.
The roads, by day, no longer have the ghostly appearance of when, in the first wave, the state of alarm brought all the people home. This time in the Basque Country travel between towns is prohibited, in a normative labyrinth that is not fully understood, for example, in Muxica, on the edge of one of the roads that cross the heart of Vizcaya on the way to Urdaibai.
“The people from the next town can move to this one, and vice versa … but only if they have a justified reason. Those who cannot come here are those from other towns if they are not attached to this one, and neither can those from Bilbao. And that kills us, “he says Joseba Andoni Rementeria, owner of Remenetxe, a steakhouse strategically located next to the Gernika road, flanked by industrial warehouses.
Between him and his wife, “who belongs to the Etxeandia of the town”, and his sister Iratxe, they transformed the bedrooms and stables of the old Miñarre farmhouse into a famous stopping point and meeting point. Some minions were so happy after several dinners that they have given the owner a plaque like the ones on the streets of Bilbao, with his name written in belle époque letters on a blue background: “Joseba Andoni Kalea”, says the sign. He has proudly hung it on the door of a winery that very few people now visit.
Iratxe Rementeria In February he suffered a tremendous cough, tightly attached to the bronchi, which lasted 21 days. She is convinced it was covid, but the tests today do not see antigens in her blood. Thoughtful, she polishes and rearranges crystal goblets, white plates, and neat, starched napkins from an empty dining room. Cars pass by through the window of the farmhouse, but they don’t stop. Is rare this perimeter closure. “Confinement is not seen, but it is felt,” he describes. “We already have confinement inside, in our soul. It is tremendous. I think we are sad … that we are trying to hide how badly we are doing.”
The Flame Show
At the exit of Muxia, in a roundabout, a couple of ertzainas stopped. Little by little security forces are increasing surveillance of people’s movements, without squeezing much and without loosening anything. But it is in the afternoon and on the road. At night, and in the neighborhoods, everything is more complicated.
For example in Burgos. Two restockers from a small supermarket on Diego Laínez Street look fearfully through the window from inside the closed store to see the fire show. Right in front, between them and the Mercadona, someone has set a yellow container on fire.
A very young pizza man stops his scooter and warns with an excited face: “Can you call 911? I can’t stop,” he says. Food delivery people are the new watchmen; they cross the deserted streets of the Castilian city and see the fires flare up here and there. The protest that began at the corner of Human Rights with Freedom, in the rebellious neighborhood of Gamonal -below Pablo (sic) Casals Street-, it has now spread discreetly to other parts of the city, where very small guerrillas appear, burn and leave avoiding the police charge.