Rock My World
The Sierra Nevada mountain range was formed about 5 million years ago by the North African and European plates head butting each other throughout millennia. Having walked many of the peaks, especially the 3,000+ meter ones, the Liverpool kissing must have been out of control.
It is not a shock then (excuse the pun) that there has been a bit of seismic activity in this region of the world.
Yesterday we ended our lazy Sunday with two earthquakes, the first one I heard. AJ was none too fussed thinking the rumbling was me rummaging around on the roof. Following a rush to download the most suitable earthquake App we confirmed our suspicions. A 2.4 earthquake was a clocked in the Sierra Lujar (the mountain with Perro above). Not a big one as they go. Globally there are millions of 2.4ish earthquakes each year and they are on the limit of being felt. Being our first earthquake in our Spanish life I even raced outside thinking that parts of the mountain range may have fallen away into the valley below. Nope still as is.
We would have waved this off as a novelty had it not been the second shake of the day 5 hours later. This one was 2.8 and shook a few things within the house as we sat lulled in front of the idiot box. There is something a little surreal when you say to each other did you feel that!? yes, did you?, yes!
In the years gone by, I have had a few experiences of when my world starts to rock. Sitting on the rim of a volcano in Vanuatu and feeling the surrounding world shake when the Mount Yasur caldera vents its pent up frustration. Mowing the lawn for my parents thinking of my recent student exchange to the USA when the 5.6 earthquake tore apart Newcastle, levelling some of the city's icons. And spending some often thought of time with my grandparents in New Guinea looking down into the chaos of Port Moresby as the ground giggled underneath us.
We are not that far from Morocco. In winter we can even see the peaks of the Rif Mountains from our cortijo. Knowing that a 6.8 earthquake decimated parts of Morocco this year left us a little on edge.
They say that an earthquake can cause a stir among the surrounding countryside, making the air smell a bit dusty, a bit like an ozone burst. We had this right through the rest of the night, wondering what it was.
Lying in bed thinking that the house is going to collapse around us at any moment does not set one up for a peaceful night sleep. Thankfully a glass or two of vino tinto helped lull us into our dream worlds.
When we woke, all the mountains were as they had been when we called stumps the day before.
Just another day and experience in the Alpujarras.
Living the dream, even if it is being influenced by the world around us.