I Was in the Spain Blackout. It Felt Like an Episode of Black Mirror.

Monday, at noon, I was on the phone with my boyfriend when he cut unexpectedly. I continued to walk in the street in Granada, where I live, without thinking about it a lot.

Unconscious of the traffic lights that do not work, I arrived at my local cold meats. The workshop lights were extinguished.

“Apagón,” said a frustrated woman behind the counter, “Power Cut”.

The Granadians are famous for being a little grumpy, but it was different; She looked alarmed. In a burst of Andaloucian words, I chose “No Hay Luz”, which translates into “no power” and “fatal”, which is explicit.

A power failure had struck several European countries

Although there are still many hours before I discovered it, a cut of electricity had struck all of Spain and Portugal, and the hospitals went to emergency generators. Pedro SANchez declared it a national emergency.

In hot cold meats, delicious cheeses, homemade stews and expensive meats, generally refrigerated, sweated and flocked. The card machine did not work. I found a two euro room in my pocket and bought the last wand.

Going out in the street, there was a disturbing buzz. Granada is generally peaceful and sleepy, but people seemed on board. In the direction of the local fruit store, I found the same scene: no card payments, lights or refrigerator, stretched traders and alarmed customers.

I used my bread to pay in cash for a lawyer and I rushed to me. I went to googled what had happened, but a virgin screen looked at me.

I tried to call my boyfriend, but I couldn't go. I knew he was at his office and wondered if he could be trapped inside the electric doors. A latent SMS had arrived: “Are you fine ??” I couldn't answer. No matter the frequency I changed my SIM card, I couldn't get more than a second of Glitch signal. Another came: “It's scary.”

People thought it could be the start of the Second World War

I sat in my little mezzanine, dirtying the lawyer on bread without parts. Questions cast in my mind. Should I go get my boyfriend? How can I contact my clients about the deadlines due today?

Most importantly, what part of this bread and this lawyer do I need to save us for dinner, because there was nothing else, and I only had 44 cents left?

I worked in London when I met my Andalusian boyfriend about six years ago. I started working as an independent writer and, over time, we realized that we would have a better life in Spain.

We have lived in Granada for a year and a half, and my independent work was only affected on Monday. 14 hours of zero electricity unraveling my income faster than a pandemic, Brexit or loss of customers.

When I heard the keys to my boyfriend, I felt relieved. He told me that the only news came from car radios. Pedro SANchez asked people to use the emergency services sparingly. There were blocks and backups in the service stations.

Together, we entered the city. Most of the stores were closed, their staff were seated outside on park benches – if not, they took cash payments and wrote receipts by hand. A man was running between stores, frantic and dismayed. As the owner of a chain of ice cream stores, he watched his profits melt on the sides of non -functional freezers.

Our large local supermarket accepted card payments using an emergency generator. Buyers loaded their carts in a calm frenzy. In the blue light, it looked like something “Black Mirror”.

The refrigerators and the freezers were all closed. Everyone tracked food that didn't need to cook or store in a cold place. Articles like bread and candles have long disappeared and canned shelves were naked.

People were also responsible for water and hygienic paper while rumors were spread that the power cup was a Russian attack and the Second World War was here. Taking up our bags at home, my boyfriend translated conversations he heard. A competing theory was that the climate crisis was finally striking.

Communities have rallied in the darkness

As an immigrant with only 44 cents in my pocket and no way to win an income, I felt more and more vulnerable. But my boyfriend reassured me, “The Andalucians share. The communities are turning with each other. We will go well.”

He was right. Panic in the streets was also linked to singing and applauding neighbors. Returning to our loft, the inhabitants met in the squares around our block. My part of Granada is famous. Some people castigated car radios or released guitars. Flamenco jams transported for a long time in the night, lit by car lights.

I fell asleep by admiring the stars through the open window, more visible than I had never seen them in Spain. When the power returned at 2 am, I was woken up by the roar of the crowd, quickly followed by my boyfriend on the light.

The next day, schools reopened and traffic has gone, almost as if nothing had happened.

But people looked tired and many companies remained closed when they took stock of their losses. By picking up my daily coffee, Barista looked distracted. She told me that she had been able to save most of her heat bakery products, but that he could not sell hot drinks yesterday.

I learned powerful lessons

I will work this weekend to catch up with part of the time I lost on Monday, but I also make changes. A 20 -euro ticket is in my handbag, where it will remain a new emergency fund. Boxes of my Crébu, chickpeas and houmous are also in the closet.

I will also reassess my income. For the moment, it depends too much on the internet. I plan to offer English lessons or transform the guest room into a makeshift airbnb.

One thing is certain: I do not leave Andalusia. Even at its worst moments, this place offers a feeling of community and warmth that no power cut could never turn off.