Inter-racial relations in the Spanish empire; Social stability in depressed Spain; Galician winter weather; and The laying on of more than hands.

In his book “Empires of the Atlantic World”, John Elliott paints a richly textured picture of Spanish colonial society after years of intermarriage between various races. Some of the resulting descriptive terms I’d heard of but not all. So . . .
The offspring of Spaniards and Indians were mestizos.
The offspring of colonists and blacks were mulatos
The offspring of Indians and blacks were zambos.
Needless to say, the exact colour of one’s skin was important but Elliott adds that “The barriers of segregation were far from being impassable. In New Spain at least, it was possible to remove the taint of Indian, though not African, blood over the course of three generations by successive marriages to the caste that ranked next above in the pigmentocratic order.” In addition, the cash-strapped Spanish government also later found it convenient to sell certificates classifying mixed-race folk as ‘Spaniards. Within this system of “legalised ethnic flexibility’, it was even possible – under the so-called gracias al sacar – for mulattoes to move from black to white. Which was never possible, of course, in Anglo America.

But back to today . . .Do you ever get the feeling the chances of anyone understanding economics are as low as those of biologists fully understanding the human body? I ask this because, while consumer spending has risen in one of Europe’s weakest economies (Spain) it’s fallen in one of the strongest (France). Our resident Jeremiah says the latter – and other bad data – is increasing fears of double-dip recession in Europe. I think I’ll flip a coin to see if this is true or not.

Here in Spain, we continue to see little of the social unrest currently visible in Greece, despite the overall unemployment rate being close to 20% and the youth rate being above 40%. I suspect you’d get opinions equivalent to the number of people you asked as to why this is. But it does raise the question of whether things are as bad as the bare statistics suggest. The first demonstrations organised by the unions took place on Monday night in Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia but don’t appear to have been a huge event. The unions claim there were 60,000 on the streets of Madrid, against an estimate of only 9,000 from the police. With more austerity measures considered inescapable, it’ll be interesting to see if this is the calm before the storm.

When I first came to live here in late 2000, you could still see cheap shops called Todo a 100. Or everything at the price of 100 pesetas. From memory, this was around 0.54 euros. Once the euro was established, the name changed to Todo a 1 Euro. And today I saw a new shop in Pontevedra – not something you can say often these days – called Todo a 2 Euros. Not bad in less than ten years – an almost fourfold increase. Is this eloquent testimony to Spain’s much-cited reduced international competitiveness? Or just an indication of the imperviousness to recession of Pontevedra’s funcionario-heavy bourgeoisie?

But I have more important things to worry about. I again have a mouse living in my washing machine, using the detergent compartment as a dining room for the eating of bits of dry dog-food it’s taken via the hole chomped in the bag. Mouse manners being what they are, it’s also using the place as a toilet, of course. Since I’ve allergic – and averse – to cats, if the notices of eviction I’ve put up don’t work, I’ll be forced to buy a new trap. I would use the one I’ve got for the rats at the bottom of the garden but this is heavy-duty and I’ve previously seen mice having a fiesta on the plate, with no untoward consequences.
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Winter in Galicia is always on the grey and damp side but this year has been worse than any of the nine I’ve endured to date, with the obvious exception of the first (2000-1), when it rained virtually every day from the beginning of November to the middle of June. But it’s not all bad news. I picked the first daffodil bloom from my garden today; the mimosa trees are developing their yellow blanket; and there’s lots of pink blossom emerging on the (cherry?) tree in my front garden. Whether this will withstand another day of wind and rain as bad as today’s, we wait to see. But I take comfort that spring is on the wing and that it won’t be long before the smell of jasmine greets me every time I open the front door or arrive at the gate. Shame about the wisteria killed by the dust from Toni’s marble cutting a year or two ago.

Finally . . . Click here for further evidence of the wealth of the Catholic Church in Spain. Then feel free to make up your own funny sentence containing the words ‘clerical’ and ‘lay’. There’ll be a prize for the best. Honest.