Blackout: the light in the dark

As you might already have heard, a massive power outage swept across Spain and Portugal yesterday, plunging millions into darkness. Around midday, the blackout disrupted daily life on an unprecedented scale. Although we still don't know exactly what happened, the official culprit for such a sudden loss of power is a rare atmospheric phenomenon that caused oscillations in high-voltage lines, leading to a cascading failure across the interconnected European grid.

Of course, the initial moments were filled with uncertainty and concern about what was happening and how long it would take —you don't have a whole country blacking out that often; and just imagine all those people trapped in elevators, tunnels, or stranded in trains, with communications off—, but the resilience and adaptability of the community quickly shone through.

In my own neighborhood, the absence of electricity meant more than just a lack of light. The non-functional elevator turned a simple ascent or descent into a minor expedition, especially for older neighbors. Water pumps ceased, leaving taps dry, and the usual hum of appliances fell silent. Yet, amidst these inconveniences, a unique atmosphere emerged.

Stepping outside and wandering around, I was met with scenes that felt as unfamiliar as they were heartwarming:

Generosity: neighbors checked on each other, offering assistance without hesitation. There was a palpable sense of community, a collective understanding that we were all navigating this together.

Calm: with traffic lights out, drivers approached intersections with caution, communicating through gestures and nods —and without honking. Surprisingly, traffic flowed more smoothly and quietly than usual.

Faces: without the lure of screens, people walked with their heads up, engaged in face-to-face conversations, while children played in the streets, and a general sense of presence prevailed.

Doors: lacking intercoms and messaging apps, visitors knocked on doors, waiting patiently, reminiscent of times past.

Windows: families and children leaned out of windows, chatting with neighbors, sharing news, and somewhat enjoying the novelty of the situation.

Radio: portable radios became the primary source of news and entertainment. Walking through the streets, the collective sound of broadcasts was somewhat joyful.

Cash: with card machines down, transactions reverted to cash —for those who had it, of course, since ATMs weren’t working either— and shops adapted swiftly, some even resorting to handwritten receipts.

Silence: in the evening, the typical urban noise was replaced by silence, broken only by occasional conversations or the distant chirping of birds.

Rhythm: as daylight faded, the absence of artificial light encouraged an earlier bedtime. The alignment with natural light cycles felt restorative.

Stars: with the usual glow of city lights absent, the night sky revealed its splendor. In almost full darkness, stars shone brightly, offering a celestial display, rare to enjoy from home.

This unexpected pause highlighted our deep reliance on electricity and technology. From basic needs like water and food storage to communication and transportation, the infrastructure we rely on daily is intricately tied to power —and so fragile.

While we met the return of electricity —past midnight in our case— with relief, the experience served as a gentle reminder of the joys found in the simplicity of the analog world. It emphasized the value of slowing down, being present, and connecting with those around us without digital intermediaries or distractions.

Perhaps, in our ever-connected world, creating more of these occasional moments of disconnection can offer clarity, fostering a renewed appreciation for both our technological advancements and the timeless pleasures of just being here.