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Thank you, RENFE

Today I traveled to ‘the capital’ to do things in the morning.

The first train I can take leaves my town at around 8 a.m. and the second at around 8:30 a.m.. The next one is between one and two in the afternoon. So to do ‘office’ things I can only get it that early. I usually have to make time until they open the shops I need, about 10 a.m.

That leaves me only two hours until I need to start leaving if I want to take the second train from the big city to my village at around one in the afternoon – the first one is at around eight in the morning, so it does not apply to me.

So if I need do things that take longer than two hours or I do not want to hurry and worry from 12 o’clock (the train station is at a distance from the center of the city that only benefits the taxi driver guild), I have to stay in the city for lunch and catch the five o’clock train back.

Today I reserve my ticket for the 16:55p.m. train.

At 16:45 I arrive at the station and the information panel says that the my train is expected to arrive at 19:35. From time to time, the megaphone remembers this fact without any further development.

At 17:38, without any notice by megaphone, the panel shows that my train is expected to arrive at 17:42. At 17:40 the megaphone announces that my train is on track 1. It is a notice usually given one or two minutes before the train arrives. At 17:41, without any train arriving on any track, it is reported by megaphone that my train is on track 1 and is about to leave. At 17:42 the megaphone announces that my train “is going to make its departure.” But there’s no train that can make anything, departure or otherwise. At 17:43 a train enters on track 1, but this is a freight train. Tens of empty carriages. No more trains.

My train has disappeared from the information panels when I stop looking at the empty track.

At around 18:00 I go to the renfe office. In this office there are two entrances: ticket sales and information. I’m not buying a ticket, so I’m get in through the information entrance.

The information counter is empty, but the man at the sales counter only has to move his chair half a metre to attend to me since there is no separation in his space. There is another employee at the same sales counter and several groups waiting for their turn.

The gentleman at the counter – from now on I will call him the male renfe employee – tells me that “for renfe [queriees] you enter through the other side.” I tell him I just want information, not to buy a ticket, which is what about five groups of people are queueing and waiting for. The renfe employee ignores me and keeps serving people who want to buy tickets.

I leave the office with my bike, I enter it again through the other entrance to arrive to basically the same counter, this time having to request a paper ticket that tells me which is my turn, and a lady in the queue comments her case and so I find out that she also wants to know what happened with the train that has disappeared from the panels, although she is traveling to another big city, not a town like me.

When it it is finally the lady’s turn, we both approach the counter since it is the same question. What happened to the missing train. The male renfe employee asks us to wait and when he comes back he tells us he called, but the line is engaged. I comment that most probably they are calling from all the localities where the train in question is – was – expected – and he nods.

After a while the renfe employee tells us that the train has been canceled, that another train will be traveling in the same direction within an hour, he believes, but that I will not be allowed to get on that train with my bike, and that I will have to wait for the last train of the day that stops in my town, about ten o’clock.

He gets on the phone to find out more. With the headphone on his ear, she asks the other lady and me where we are going. “It’s only two travelers, but one goes with a bike.” The other lady tells her that she’s with her husband who’s been taking care of her bags, so we’re 3.

When he hangs up he tells me that the train on which the other lady and her husband can get on doesn’t even stop in my village, so bike or no bike, I am not getting on that train. I have nothing left but to wait until ten o’clock.

Not an apology, not a minimum show of empathy. And as I have seen similar situations, I explain to the other lady, in the face of the silence of the two renfe employees at the counter, that as we have a pass and we have not paid for this ticket specifically / in particular, we do not even have the right to any refund. I do not need to tell her that we don’t deserve an apology either; I do need to tell her that as customers, as we are no longer travelers, we are customers, whether we buy individual tickets or passes, we don’t deserve the slightest respect, asa renfe is demonstrating with every breakdown and every delay.

The frustrating thing is the effort already made by someone who has a car, not to take it, instead becoming dependent on 4 trains in a whole day. The frustrating thing is that this is not worth it, that it seems that while ‘higher up’ ‘command’ have tried to put this idea of passes into practice so that we use public transport, ‘medium management?’ or ‘more intermediate hands’ people are having an overwhelming success pushing people back to travel by car.

Thank you, RENFE, thank you ADIF, before you have such a nasty ball, thank you both.

And this, friends, is what happens when the parties taking power in turns, agree to the fragmentation and gradual privatization of what in its day was a public railway company.

I don’t know what compensation is possible if there’s no money compensation. No one returns me the French lesson I missed, nor the union meeting that I missed, nor the meeting with friends I missed, nor any of the rest of hours that renfe has stolen from me, nor the dignity the employee in Burgos station stole from me when he laughed at me.

I don’t know how a mistreatment is compensated by a company that is supposed to provide a public service.

Instant messaging

From a tech conversation:
Does WhatsApp (WA) give out info to polices?

The general understanding is that WA don’t give out communications content to police.

They give out communications metadata to police, and the metadata they give out is substantial, since things like group name, description and icon are considered “metadata” by WA, and even contents of your addressbook (and your peer’s addressbooks) are considered metadata.

Advocates of Signal will point out that Signal does not consider “metadata” things like group name, description or contents of your addressbook.

People used to decent services like riseup’s, autistici/inventati’s, nadir’s, sinodminio’s disroot’s or aktivix’s, will always prefer decentralised protocols where any one can set up their own federated server, like delta.chat, xmpp, are best. Ideally hosted by decent collectives.

#whatsapp #signal #xmpp #deltachat #delta.chat #decentCollectives #decentServices #degoogle #NoBigTech

The orange guy’s overall plan

To try to understand what Trump’s plan may be, from an overall perspective, but mainly from an economical point of view, by economist Richard Wolff: Some extracts from https://yewtu.be/watch?v=1ih7WJrcjWg mostly paraphrasing and summarising:

Films about Palestine online for free.

In the light of current events in Palestine, a large number of filmmakers have made their films about Palestine available online for free.

In this post, we share the links to movies, which you can watch and share to spread our message to the world:

A collection of documentaries published by Al Jazeera Documentary:
https://bit.ly/3yp2nBI
https://bit.ly/2SSpMeC
https://bit.ly/3f0KK3P

Rampart. The squat

rampart graf

Rampart Sign

Every social event or project, has as many versions as people participating in it.

My own personal version of Rampart Social Centre would be that it was born, together with many other squats in 2004, out of the need to house hundreds of attendants to he European Social Forum and adjacent alternatives.

The meetings for the preparation of said forum did acknowledge the need, and the problem of accommodating such a big number of people in the most expensive city in the UK, probably Europe.

But the possibility of housing them in squats was mercilessly laughed at in the ESF meetings.

Broadband

It is 2006. Some of my friends have broadband at home, but most of us are still using dial-up. The first time I came across broadband was in a privileged squat. They had managed to hold the house for about a decade. Different generations of squatters, but stable enough to think about long term commitments. They, too, were managing with a dial-up connection.

“Who is using the internet!”

Welcome (to the detention centre)

We meet at the tube station and we get on the train to the end of the Picadilly line together. They are blonde, confidently English to the point I’m back to the place where I don’t understand the conversation happening around me. For a split of a second they all look at me and I grab the chance to ask my question:

Casual work

My work at The Guardian is called ‘casual’. Because I don’t go there every day, or regularly. I am in the ‘Night Uploaders’ team.

We quickly proof-read the articles, which are already being printed, in case some mistake has slipped the attention of the sub-editors that are specifically employed for such mistake-spotting among other things, and then add some basic html coding and some relevant, pre-determined links. It is done every single night, and every single article published on paper is uploaded to the website, but for these stable jobs The Guardian employs casuals who can not stay employed for longer than ten months in a row to avoid having to contract us as regular employees. So in ten months time, I will need to find income somewhere else, with the option to come back after four months or so.

Visitors meeting

George is my contact on this new NoBorders business. We meet in a bar in zone 2 for a coffee. I thought it weird to have a one to one conversation about volunteering over a coffee, but when I see George he is at a table talking to some five other people. We all introduce each other and then they resume the conversation, which seems to be at the stage of the actual travelling to the detention centre, somewhere in zone 6. (note below)

No Borders

On one of the email lists I am in, there is an email from No Borders. The work they seem to do now is the punctual service: visiting asylum seekers locked up in detention centres.

‘We need people to help / visit detainees, asylum seekers that are awaiting deportation’, the email says.

My mind goes to the gospel, to the bit where God rewards those who visited people who were ill or in jail.

This is punctual help to individual people. Mostly men. The women seem to be locked up in another detention centre, too far away from London for unemployed or low-waged volunteers to afford to go regularly. So they stick to the detention centres next to Heathrow, one tube ride away.

Visit detainees. That is not going to tear apart the borders, NOBorders. But it is (sold as) part of a wider strategy, against all borders. This is the ‘detainee support group’ part of NoBorders. Because it is not fair that people have (or not) the right to live here based on where they were born.

I write back to offer to volunteer.