Sorry, I’m a day late with this post. We’ve made it to Burgos, which Jazmin is going to write to you about next.
On Sunday night we had a blackout in out apartment. Not the city. Not the building. Just our apartment.
Now, in Spain, it isn’t uncommon for the breaker to kick off when you’ve got too much electricity running. I had unplugged the television because the surge protector was humming and only had the kitchen light and hallway light on at the time. In case you’re asking what I was doing– because surely human error entered in: I was washing a potato in the sink, trying to make dinner. I hadn’t even turned on the oven yet.
I tried the usual Spanish method: turn something off (the kitchen light) and flip the main switch. That didn’t work. I tried all the switches, hoping it would work. Nope. I lit some candles and called Jazmin, who was out with a friend, and told her I was home alone without power and I needed her to call our landlady. I started to look out our windows and saw that we were alone in our predicament.
Jaz gets home and tries the same steps. Nothing. Our landlady comes and tries the same steps. Nada. She called the electric company and told us while she was on hold that she was going to try to get them out to us tonight, but that they might not come out until the morning since it was 11:30pm on a Sunday night.
Our power comes on at 11:55pm. The electrician and our landlady return a few minutes later to make sure the problem had been fixed. Something external broke (not because of us) and it had been replaced. I was never so thankful to see people at my door at midnight. I finally started dinner at 12:15.