Podemos ('We can') is
the left-of-centre party which barged on to the Spanish political
scene just a year ago. It's riding high in the polls for the general
election due late this year. Meanwhile, though, there's a regional
election in Andalucia, where the socialist party has wielded power
since the transition from Francoism in the late 70s and early 80s.
This is despite corruption there being the worst in the country.
Which is saying something. Anyway, Podemos are forecast to get 15% of
the vote there. Not bad going, then, for a new party. More, in
English, here.
And there's a bit more
on the Andalucian elections here.
Imagine you're
approaching a roundabout in the UK with 3 exits to the left of it and
3 to the right. And imagine you're taking the 6th exit, the last on
the right. If you put your satnav into Spanish mode, it'll tell you
to leave by the 6th exit on the left, even though it's on your right.
The British voice will tell simply tell you to take the 6th exit. If
you were in Spain, you'd be approaching a roundabout with the
instruction to either take the 6th exit (British) or to exit by the
6th exit on the right (Spanish), even though it's on your left. A
material cultural difference? Or just bloody confusing?
There's a shop in my
mother's town which sells just about everything. Rather like the
Chinese bazars of Spain. On the window, there's a large sign saying
"SMOKING KILLS", alongside text advertising e-cigarettes.
The rest of the window display comprises cigarette papers, roller
boxes, lighters, lighter fuel, flints, wicks, filter tips, matches,
and pipes. Which struck me as a tad ironic.
Talking of shops . . .
I got chatting to the ladies in the stationers about Galicia and one
of them asked me if I was English. I thought she was referring to
what my daughters call my 'Spanish voice'. But no. "I thought
you might be Dutch", she said. I was devastated. Naturally. I'd
even have preferred the usual 'German' which Spaniards accuse me of being.
Still on shops . . .
When I walked down the main street at 5.15, it was hard to believe
they'd all closed down for the day and wouldn't be opening in a
quarter of an hour until at least 8.30.
Finally . . . After
months of nagging my younger daughter has finally learned how to
switch on the answerphone I bought her last year. Now, if I can just
get her to listen to the messages, we'll be home and dry.
And . . . . The
daffodils that have yet to appear in my garden in Galicia:-
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