An ex-president of Spain has said he fears for the [booming] economy as it’s built on bricks and cement. And held up by builders cranes, I guess.

In his Iberian Notes blog the other day, John in Barcelona quoted an article from a Spanish commentator who took issue with comments of the woman who heads up the Association of the Victims of Terrorism. Specifically, he asked [in my words] whether her opposition to all wars was effectively a criticism of all those who died opposing Hitler. This got me to thinking about Spain’s [understandable] anti-militarism. And the irony that her currently booming economy is a result of the post WW2 peace engineered by all those countries which didn’t reject war when faced with terrorism on an even larger scale than that of ETA.

Anyway, another prominent ex-office holder is also in the news today. This time it's the ex-mayoress of Marbella. She is being sued for just under 1 million euros by a constructor who worked on her house but hasn’t had his bills met. Unfortunately for him, the lady is rather distracted at the moment by other court proceedings. She’s being prosecuted - along with the rest of her council – for a variety of offences related to their idiosyncratic handling of the town’s financial affairs. He might have to wait a while for his money. Or someone else’s, more likely.

For my second compilation of posts from the last 3 years, I’ve chosen Bullfighting. These comments were made on different dates, of course, but I’ve spared you the details. This is quite a lot of work. So please try to enjoy them:-

2004

This year in Pontevedra we have a real, grown-up corrida - with the three bullfights taking place on consecutive evenings. Not over a week or so, as they have in the past. The first was last night and, as ever, it was the signal for the town’s youth to get comprehensively drunk. For the most part, this is done under the auspices of the numerous peñas - or ‘cliques’ – which get together to support the bullfights. Or, these days, to oppose them. Not so long ago it was the custom for peña members to spill the occasional drop of wine on the shirt of a member of an opposing group. Then it was wine-filled water pistols. And now it’s water machine-guns. In one of the town’s squares at 11pm last night I witnessed something that was little short of a bacchanal. Rarely – if ever – have I seen so many young people so drunk. And so wet. But here’s the funny thing – not the slightest hint of aggression. An eerie experience for an Englishman used to dodging pugnacious drunks back in the UK. And – even more impressive - by midday today, the square had been restored to its normal pristine condition. Bottle-less, rubbish-less and vomit-less.


I read the report – in the Culture section, of course – of the first bullfight on Friday night here in Pontevedra. The markings used range from ‘A Silence’ all the way up to ‘Two ears and the Tail’ - taking in An Ovation, One Ear, and Two Ears along the way. As each bullfighter takes on two bulls, he can, for example, score One Ear and one Ovation. Or any combination of the above. Provided, of course, that he survives both bulls. Imagine being reminded in the national press that you had scored ‘A Silence and A Silence’. You might just want to go out and throw yourself on a couple of passing horns. Though I don’t suppose you give the fee back. You can always blame ‘ignoble’ bulls.


A couple of months ago, I recorded that, in bullfighting, the markings used (in the Culture section of newspapers) range from ‘A Silence’ all the way up to ‘Two ears and the Tail’ - taking in An Ovation, One Ear, and Two Ears along the way. Well, the Spectator’s bullfighting correspondent [Yes, there is one] has said that there are also ‘light applause’, ‘whistles’ and ‘rage’. This is on the part of the crowd, of course, and not the newspaper correspondent. Or the bull. I’m not sure which is worse for a bullfighter – rage or studied silence - but I do know that, at this stage of the proceedings, the bull couldn’t care less.


The taurine aficionados amongst you will be interested to know that the table of the top 30 bullfighters for last season was published today. The winner was one César Jimenez, who amassed 106 Festejos, 162 Ears and 6 Tails. Although my dictionary defines festejo as celebration, my suspicion is that it must here mean something closer to a crowd going wild in admiration. I wonder if he has a trophy room.


2005

A local columnist has bemoaned the demise of bullfighting in Spain, especially in the secessionist regions, where it is seen as too Spanish. The writer points the finger at rich and risk-averse bullfighters who, he says, spend more time in the pages of the gossip magazines than in the ring. But he also blames the British for planting the flag of football in Spanish soil, just as they have planted their flag on the rock of Gibraltar. It’s possible his tongue was firmly in his cheek but it’s still quite an achievement to get the Gibraltar issue into an article on bullfighting.


One of the more engaging features of the annual Pontevedra bullfights is the fans dressed in the colours of their respective peñas, or ‘supporters groups’. Apart from making a great deal of liquid-inspired noise, these all dress in the same colourful outfit. In honour of my visiting American friend, Rick, we’ve decided to form a new peña whose defining characteristic will be white socks worn with brown boots. Or, indeed, with Gucci loafers. As yet, we haven’t decided what, if anything, we will sport in addition to these.


Things are a tad clearer on what the New Orleans White Sox peña will be sporting at next year’s bullfights here in Pontevedra. Apart from the white socks, a baseball cap would seem to be de rigueur, albeit worn in the somewhat old-fashioned manner of the right way round. And possibly a garish Hawaiian shirt. Thought is still being given at to what we will be girding our loins with. Perhaps Bermuda shorts. Though we wouldn’t want to end up too conspicuous.


With my satellite decoder out of commission, I forced myself this morning to watch one of the daily gossip programmes while eating my cereal. The format here is that 5 or 6 females and gay males sit in a semi-circle [with the audience behind them!] and discuss the love life of one celebrity or another. Of course, in Spain ‘discuss’ means talk or shout simultaneously. The celebrities range from the richest [and ugliest] woman in Spain to the latest squeeze of one of the famous bullfighters. This morning’s victims were one such bullfighter and his current wife, who may or may not be having difficulties. And the hot topic was the fact that he’d chosen to spend some of a recent night in the van in which his travelling team sleep. The highlight of the programme was a sequence shown above the following caption – ‘The first televised pictures of Francisco Rivera taking a pee’. This was repeated 3 times before I’d finished my cereal and switched off.


We have a village near here called Gatomorto, or Dead Cat in Gallego. I wonder if it got its name from a failed attempt to bring in a cheaper version of bullfighting. Must ask.


TV directors here are in perpetual quest for pictures of blood or gore. So it was too much to expect that they would not bring us the stained handkerchief used to prove the virginity of the bride at a recent big gypsy wedding in Andalucia. The other stroke of luck they’ve had this year is the high number of gorings during the summer’s bullfights. Not a lot of blood in fact – at least not of the human variety – but plenty of exciting action to reprise. And reprise.


You’ll be keen to know the winning bullfighter for the recent season was El Fandi. He was way out on top, with 110 Ovations, 210 Ears and 11 Tails. He was also the unanimous favourite of the surviving bulls, though there weren’t enough of these to manage an ovation.


2006

Although I attend the occasional bullfight, I can’t claim I make a habit of reading the reports in the national papers. But the laudatory headline of one caught my eye today. The praise, though, was being heaped on the bull and not on the matador. And the opening paragraph ran:-
The second bull of the evening starred in one of the most beautiful moments of this fiesta – a spectacle of bravery, nobility and class, the qualities of a majestic animal, capable of generating the fiercest emotions.
But still dead, of course. Shame it couldn’t read its own fulsome obituary.


Flicking through the report of one of this week’s bullfights in Madrid, I came across the word ‘disorejado’. This means ‘dis-eared’ and I wonder whether this is the time it’s been coined in English. I fear, though, that that old fraud Hemingway beat me to it.


Not all appears to be well in the world of bullfighting. I see little but critical headlines these days and this opening sentence caught my eye today- ‘Fraud, deceit, betrayal of all those who’ve paid to attend and a ragman’s knife [sic] in the very heart of the fiesta of the bulls.’ And then the writer went on to become quite critical.



Up in Catalunia, the government says it will ban bullfighting, which is very much a minority activity up there anyway. I almost said ‘sport’ but this is a major faux pas in Spain, where its aficionados consider it an art form. Albeit a rather sanguinary one.