You know, accurate time keeping in others used to be one of my biggest bugbears. I'd absolutely no patience with tardiness. Keeping an accurate, timely record of events in my job was my life for 30 years. I've lost count of the number of times I told someone to buy a new alarm clock when they were late for work.
The overcrowded 6.37am to work was always late, and yet I was there on time, every time. Similarly, "We'll be with you in ten minutes" would be the information from the taxi company on the third call. Thirty minutes and several rants later my blood pressure would be into orbit.
All that changed when I hit the road a few years ago to explore far flung countries and experience new cultures. Time in some countries has no meaning at all. Patience is all that's required, and lots of it. 'Slow down, you're here' was a sign I once saw in New Zealand. Looking back now I ask myself how on earth I allowed the clock to rule my life for so long.
Take Chiloé for example, a rugged island of incredible beauty island off the coast of Chile. For 200yrs it was isolated from the mainland when the Spanish conquistadores and settlers were routed from Chile. A fascinating mixture of Spanish and Mapuche legends. Once a year a ship would sail down from Peru, if it arrived at all. Time meant nothing to the these hardy islanders.
Still today it has no real concept . A wonderfully tranquil pace of life on a stunning island, where the only sound sometimes is that of silence.
"Developing the art of patience is the first lesson you'll learn on this island" a guide told me. Thus an appointment scheduled for 2pm would generally mean 3pm, if it happened at all. Not turning up is 'on time' in Chiloé.
There's absolutely no point worrying about things that are out of your control and to be patient with issues that are. Go with the flow and learn to enjoy life's finer details.
Yes, I learnt the art of true patience in South America, which was particularly handy when I applied for my NIE here in Ibiza.
On a particularly hot day I hopped on the bus to town and found the police station. The signs were not good as I approached. The queue stretching out of the door gave me a clue that this wasn't going to be as plain sailing as I'd hoped for. Long queues on hot days are normally difficult places at the best of times. I joined the end, and waited patiently in line.
Eventually it was my turn. The officer handed me an appointment slip and wrote my name in an enormous green book.
"manaña, a las doce y media" he said.
My knowledge of the Spanish language was terrible then, and some might say it's not much better now. For some unknown reason I always get 'doce' (12) & 'dos' (2) mixed up. It's tripped me up before and it would prove so again.
The quizzical looks on the faces of two policemen sat at the front desk of an empty office the following afternoon was the first inkling that something was not quite right.
"Señor, your time was 12.30pm" he said " I'm sorry, it's now 2.30pm and we're closed".
Curses.
A few days later I returned at the correct time. The officer showed me his computer screen with my details displayed. A pointless exercise really as this time I'd forgotten to carry my reading glasses. My NIE this time was secured.
Later that week I opened a bank account. Signing the paperwork I saw that the clerk had recorded my name incorrectly as 'Jest a Minute'. I pointed out this error. She looked perplexed and showed me my NIE card. Sure enough the same spelling mistake was displayed.
For the fourth time in as many days I found myself queuing patiently at the police station. The officer on the desk and I were now quite good friends. Knowing that I'd spent more time in the office that week then some of his colleagues he corrected the error there and then. Top man.
Make no mistake, patience is a virtue in all aspects of life. With the goodwill of others everything will turn out trumps in the end, even if you are as hapless as me.
Just a minute!