HAPPY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY HANNUKAH, EVERYONE
Here's a post I prepared earlier . . .
These are quotes from the book Babel in Spain, written by John Haycraft when he and his wife were setting up the first English language school in Andalucia - quite possibly in Spain - in the 1950s. When Spain really was different, and officially regarded as part of the developing world.
As the country has come a very long way since then, I was left wondering how many of these perceptions would still be true - or partially true - about Spain or Andalucia today. Certainly we could assert that nepotism and croneyism are still a feature of modern Spanish life, but I leave it to each reader to decide whether there are any others. In doing so, I stress that simple citation doesn't signify endorsement on my part. I shouldn't have to say that but . . .
The other thing I shouldn't need to say is that Haycraft loved Spain and the Spanish/Andalucian people and there are lots of positive comments in the book. But this didn't stop him being analytical/critical where he felt it appropriate.
I've divided the quotes into Spain and Andalucia but it's quite possible that the former related more to Andalucia than to the rest of Spain. This is always a problem when one writes, as I do, from the base of one city or region in Spain.
SPAIN
In Spain, one's imagination easily generates fears - perhaps because this country is so different, so unexpected, because totalitarianism is whimsical, because historical associations are so strong.
Women are much more isolated than in other European countries, at least outside the metropolises of Madrid and Barcelona. This is explicable by the fact that Spanish social conventions are usually 50 years behind those of the rest of Europe. Religion has much to do with it.
The way Spanish men laud their virility is often monotonous.
A person may be an adult but, in relation to his parents, the pretence that he is still a child to be disciplined and commanded must be preserved.
In middle class homes, the fact that the father works and usually supports the family means that his is the power. As large incomes come from property and salaries are low, most single sons fine id necessary to live under the aegis of their parents at home until they inherit enough, or are sufficiently successful, to become independent. Such family unity makes for an essentially conservative society , as it is the dictates and the opinions of the elderly which are respected. But in a country where ultimate development into a modern society is becoming inevitable, it merely intensifies the clash between the new and the old. [I wonder if this was reflected in the very popular Cuéntame series, set in the late 60s onwards]
There is an oriental fairytale quality about riches in Spain; those with money have so very much. They own castles instead of skyscrapers. Their wealth is vested in land. The poverty around them detaches them and the respect they are shown is almost feudal. They are among the last of the old oligarchies, whose position and wealth reaches back to conditions which existed in Europe before 1914.
Like many Spanish men, he wore sunglasses even on stormy days and twilit evenings - thus trying to give the impression that the wearing of spectacles was voluntary.
By the eagerness of our discussions, we became aware of how starved of intellectual and cultural matters it is possible to be in Spain.
There is no compromise as far as women are concerned. "In Spain", remarked one of my first friends, "there are only married women, virgins and whores." Each has her place.
It is surprising how difficult interesting discussion often is in Spain despite the potential exuberance. . . The fact that so many subjects are ignored or outside the pale, that self-criticism is rare, that so much emphasis is given to everything, with the result that many a story is repeated 2 or 3 times, all are behind the serious-minded traveller's complaint that Spaniards are rarely scintillating.
It is difficult to find 'bons mots', to assess individual Spaniards as 'characters' who can be remembered in terms of a unity or personality which can be enjoyed as such. Strong conventions and the uniformity of religious upbringing mortify original opinion. The Spanish have had many great painters but few philosophers. They find true expression in dramatic and emotional moments. The Spanish temperament resembles paint of a palette; colourful but static, until a sudden fury slashes it into vivid, powerful designs which dry and remain once again without movement, a reminder of what is always latent and possible.
There is an amusing simplicity about a Spaniard's pride in his home town.
Gaiety in Spain is an intoxication, which is why the Spanish are also a melancholy people. When expansiveness subsides, reality seems much sadder.
To the unlucky traveller, the Spaniard is boring and melancholy; to the lucky one, he is gay [original meaning] and exhilarating. This fluctuation is perhaps another part of the 'enigma' of which foreign visitors are so often conscious in Spain - which creates an uncertainty of what the Spaniard is at any given moment, or of what he is really capable.
Fortunately, it is difficult for the tourist to vulgarise Spain. Pride is usually more important to the Spaniard than money.
Spanish hospitality and kindness to visitors has few bars. A foreigner is expected to behave peculiarly.
Spanish women are impossibly curious and frank in the questions they ask. "How much money do you earn?" "How much do you pay for your rooms?" "Is your wife pregnant?"
Spaniards tend to judge an individual for what he is, and only if they dislike him do they allow their judgement of him to be clouded by prejudices against the nation to which he belongs. This is partly because they are less aware of other countries; they travel less, they read less.
Impulsiveness always surprises in Spain.
Every Spaniard is an ardent nationalist, even if much of his time is spent in reviling the [Franco] regime and his country.
The majority of Spaniards seem to prefer football to bullfighting, although it must be admitted that the game as they play it has much of the savagery and danger which most bullfights have.
Often in class we had the sensation of teaching people who were still charming children. This was shown most clearly in the way they cheated in tests and dictations, as if they were still at school. The ebullience of most classes contributed to this impression.
Spanish men tend to take women literally. If they see a girl in shorts and a low neck-line, they see only one reason for her dressing like that.
Germans are by far the most beloved foreigners in Spain, at least by those who fought with the Nationalists in the Civil War. Germany is one of the few countries against which Spain has never waged war. Spain's greatest years were those when she was ruled by Hapsburg kings. Spaniards admire Germans for those very qualities which they themselves lack.
Except for university students who form a tiny minority, football and not politics is the devouring passion among the youth in Spain today [1958].
Sooner or later, everyone must climb onto the bandwagon [of nepotism and croneyism]. They give up the ideal of straight competition after their first examination, when a stupid companion who has an influential uncle comes out top of the list. The highest aim of any member of the middle class, be he doctor or lawyer, is to get a government post which will ensure him a steady income and at the same time a maximum of leisure which he can devote to other ways of earning a living. To obtain this, merit is not enough. He must use his friends in a way which he he regards as discreditable but inevitable.
As government is corrupt, so the attitude to government is one of distrust. [Haycraft here relates a tale of how his friends warned him against going to talk to the tax office re future income possibilities, as they'd take him to the cleaners. I have had the same experience.]
Spaniards are often diffuse in explaining things; many of the intellectuals seemed more interested in producing ornate sentences than in saying anything important. Andalucians, particularly, are are liable to float away on the broomstick of some imaginative fancy with no intention of setting foot on solid ground ever again - until they arrive at the moon.
It is difficult to penetrate the Spanish home.
Often in Spain it's necessary to approach a matter slowly and on a personal level.
Spaniards select their friends by opening their arms to anyone who seems in the least bit 'simpático'. Then, when they get to know them better, they easily grow weary of the relationship. English reserve offends them; they feel it can only be a sign of hostility. But they expect hostility from foreigners. Because they are thought to look down on Spain for being not so advanced materially.
The Spaniard probably finds his truest expression in spectacle. He thinks dramatically, not analytically. This they have, which other nations have lost to utilitarianism.
For the foreigner, Spain's fascination lies in exploration. Out in the deserted countryside, where the fields seem untouched by man, one feels an explorer kenning an unknown land.
Spaniards are critical of intentions. "If our Lord Don Quixote was resurrected and returned to this, his Spain", wrote Unamuno, "people would go searching for some hidden motive behind his ravings."
In the last analysis, the difference in outlook was immense: the difference in religion, in temperament, in heritage. If that was the fascination in discovering Spain, it was also a reason for not staying a lifetime.
ANDALUCIA
[On the Great Mosque in Córdoba, referring to the Christian additions of the16th century] Unable to equal what the Moslems had done, the Christian architect might also have spoiled the building deliberately with as many examples of bad taste as possible. . . It all evokes something of the same indignation as does an El Greco mauled and mutilated during the Civil War. Worse: for there is certainly less passion, if as much stupidity, in the desecration of the Mezquita. [Haycraft's opinions here are shared by me, as some readers might recall]
As so often happens in Andalucia, the intention of doing something is a satisfactory substitute for undertaking it.
For a foreigner in Andalucia, Holy Week will always be one of the most impressive and intriguing spectacles that Spain can offer.
Accidents are not so important in Andalucia, where everyone expects something to go wrong.
Lavishness in hospitality is a tradition in wealthy Andalusian society but short-sighted meanness in business is almost a rule. This is natural in a agricultural community, where next year's harvest is always an uncertain one.
In Andalucia, there is no certainty, no efficiency, no routine. Everything must be carefully built from the bottom. A sense of mystery remains, but faintly. Imagination is deadened by reality, which in everyday living is frequently narrow, provincial and stuffy.
One comes to Spain enchanted by the differences, prepared to give significance to the smallest thing, to applaud a bad speaker because he probably meant something you didn't understand. But slowly the raillery of Spaniards themselves, who rarely approve of anything, destroys illusions.
Adventure or career? The Northerner finds that in Andalucia he must sooner or later resolve the conflict between spiritual restlessness and lethargic indifference. In practical matters, the sense of trying to walk fast with heavy weights attached to wrists and ankles cripples endeavours. The real difficulty lies in changing or establishing anything. But once the initial effort has been made, and a reasonable income is being earned, the chances are nothing will change that either. No one demands or expects perfection. Ambition departs. Life is easy, unexacting. The sun shines. There is no need to get up early in the morning. Restlessness, enquiry is replaced by a complacent acceptance of today.
The absence of frankness was also irritating. Andalucians can only be won by effusiveness.
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