Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable.
Christopher Howse: A Pilgrim in Spain
Spanish Politics - Is there rising optimism about the formation of a functioning government? Or last least less pessimism.
- As if lethargy wasn't a big enough problem, Spanish courts are now becoming places of violence, says El País here.
- Spain's already parlous birth rate is now the lowest for 20 years, as couples postpone parenthood due to precarious financial situations, among other factors.
- Corrections: The refuge for 'pilgrims' of the writer of the book I cited yesterday is just a house, not an albergue. And it's in Moratinos - between Burgos and León - not in Rabanal del Camino, further along the camino Frances.
- Life really is tough for the young here. The average starting salary for kids entering employment these days is a mere €800 a month. Astonishingly, this is €100 less than it was in 2008. No wonder they continue to live with their parents. Or share a flat with 3-5 others.
- Maybe there's a connection between this fact and Galicia's very low birth rate.
- Reader Eamon has pointed out that the blue-black plaid on the kilt I showed yesterday is sold here as Galician tartan and that taxi drivers here resorted to them when told, in summer, that they couldn't wear shorts. This still doesn't explain why the chap was sporting one in winter. Even if he's a taxi driver.
- Which reminds me . . . I suspect I really should say 'autumn', not 'winter'. Spaniards like their official dates. Whatever the temperature, summer doesn't begin until 21 June and, whatever the degree of cold, winter doesn't start until 21 December.
- Which is why yesterday's paper's said that our 'autumn' - 21 September to 20 December, I guess - has been the wettest since 2006.
- But - to add to the confusion - if you Google on this issue, you get these differing starting dates for the northern hemisphere at large:-
Verano 21-22 junio or 1 junio
Otoño 21-22 septiembre or 1 septiembre
Invierno 21-22 diciembre or 1 diciembre
So, maybe autumn ended on 30 November here. As I think it does in the UK. But I will ask around.
- I see the Voz de Galicia interviewed 4 Brits about the results of the UK general election. I'm guessing these work in 'academies' of English near their Vigo offices . . .
- Here's the other reason I enjoy eating at out newish Moroccan restaurant - the mint tea:-
- As we watch the various factions of the Labour party (inevitably) go for each other's jugulars, the questions arise: 1. Will there be a schism as unhealable as that in 11th century Christendom? And 2. Will there be a new 'social democrat' party phoenix that leaves the Labour Party as a rump of angry, far-left, socialists/pseudo Trotskyists? I'm betting on both.
- US-based historian Nial Ferguson: The rise of national conservatism and the proof that it can work here in Britain sound the death knell for woke socialism all over the world. Just as Brexit begat Trump, so Boris’s victory more or less guarantees that the Democrats will be decimated next November if they nominate either Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren. Sounds about right to me. Biden a shoo-in?? As candidate at least.
- Words of the day:-
Un taper: A plastic box. Would you believe, form Tupperware.
Un trineo: A sleigh.
Finally . . .
- After years of thinking about writing a comic novel and always deciding against it, I decided a couple of days ago to write something amusing in the form of a diary stretching from 2000 to 2020. So, I researched my 2 laptops and my many back-up CDs and confirmed that I have all of my jottings from back then. As it happens, this blog was initially in diary form, very different from what I do know. Here's the very first post, admittedly not very amusing. But informative:-
This is the week of 'Carnaval' in Pontevedra, and in nearly every other town in Spain.
Here, things end next Friday with the ceremonial burning of a large stuffed parrot, after a long, colourful and raucous parade which is effectively a mock cortege. Why it's a parrot is hard to explain. In other towns near here they burn effigies of a sardine. Anyway, between the start and end of Carnaval - or 'entroido' as it's called in Galicia - there are a number of events.
Yesterday there was a parade, a la Rio de Janeiro or New Orleans. On Friday there was the official opening of the ceremonies down in the old town - the arrival and welcoming of King Urcai, or somebody like that. I decided to go but it didn't help that the two leaflets giving out the time and the place differed in respect of each. As I've said, there's not a great reverence for precision or accuracy in Spain.
So, I went down for the earlier of the two times and found the town quite full of people in fancy dress. But I couldn't find the place where the king was being received. Eventually, following the sound of music, I came across a little square I'd never seen before. Here there was stage on which a group was belting out live music at the neighbour-deafening levels which are quite normal in Spain, though not usually as early as 9pm.
I had clearly missed the official opening ceremonies but the compensation was that there was a newly restored 'pazo', or mansion, in the square which I was able to take a look at. Very impressive, if sombre, in solid granite. At one time the inhabitants must have had a wonderful view down to and across the river up into the mountains but whatever is left of this is about to be obliterated by a riverside development of apartments.
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