I’m en route to the UK, to celebrate the wedding of a niece, the 65th wedding anniversary of my parents and, if I recollect correctly, the Assumption of Our Lady straight into Heaven. Though in the last case the festivities will, of course, be marred by the non-attendance of the celebratee. Who ever comes back from Heaven?

Anyway, it’s an appropriate time and place to give an unsolicited testimonial to Brittany Ferries, who do a grand job on their Pont Aven boat, ploughing between Santander and either Plymouth or Southampton. To be honest, I wasn’t knocked out by last night’s Michael Jackson impersonator but it seemed every other person on the boat was. Including the entire crew, packed into the rafters. And I have to admit that the guy looked so creepingly authentic I kept waiting for him to keel over with a heart attack. But, when he failed to oblige, I crept early off to bed.

So . . . Saturday’s bullfight. Long-time readers will know I’m decidedly ambivalent about this Spanish institution. And I have two daughters whose attitudes are literally poles apart. So I hope one of them never reads this.

First off, I scoff at people who deny the cruelty of bullfighting. On the other hand, I find it impossible to disagree with those who rave about its (occasional) artistry. And no one will ever convince me it doesn’t take great courage to get into the ring with the magnificent bulls. I would never ban it. But, that said, I don’t often attend a corrida - for the not-very-laudatory reason that they can, frankly, get very boring. And I’m not very proud of the fact that I seem to get inured quite quickly to the outpourings of blood. For which I blame my genes.

Anyway, in the boredom stakes, Saturday night was an exception.

First of all, I was there with Pontevedra’s largest and most raucous peña, Gin Kas. Membership of which is conditional on your being prepared to hacer el ganso. Or play the fool. (This, by the way, might well be conclusive evidence of the claim that Pontevedra audiences are not the most knowledgeable and serious in Spain.)

Secondly, the evening was special in that each of the first five bulls was dispatched quickly with a single sword thrust between the shoulder blades. Meaning none of the awful multi-stabbing atrocities that often unfold.

Finally – and most importantly – the final bull was ‘pardoned’ - after a combination of an angry and brave quadruped and an angry and talented biped had given the crowd something to remember. Only twice in more than a hundred years has a bull been allowed to leave the Pontevedra ring (just about) alive, to be nursed back to a life at stud. So, it’s understandable the crowd was pretty delirious at the close of the corrida. Even the breeder of the bulls was carried out on someone’s shoulders. In fact, I think I might well have been.

So, no. For so long as the Spanish people want to retain the institution, I would never ban it. But I still won’t be going very often. And I will always believe that, if they could just bottle the first five minutes of every ‘fight’ – when the torero faces an uninjured bull alone – then they might just have something to sell to the rest of the world. As it is, no bloody chance whatsoever. Even in Spain itself, it’s a tougher and tougher row to hoe. Which should be a crumb of consolation for those readers who regard as insane anyone who doesn’t totally support their outright rejection of bullfighting.

The government of the Basque Country has announced that their regional elections will be held on 1 March, which happens to be the same day as ours here in Galicia. This has led to a flurry of adverse headlines here about this coincidence being regrettable. To those of us used to such elections taking place all – or most – at the same time, this might seem an odd reaction. But there are two prime arguments, it seems. Firstly, it will deny Galicia its day in the spotlight, when local issues are covered by the national media. And, secondly, the governing PSOE will have to employ its main weaponry up in the troublesome northern region, meaning fewer big-hitters visiting Galicia to burnish the image of the socialist-nationalist coalition. Which certainly needs it after the recent fiasco of the turbine tender process which the socialists washed their hands of. Perhaps the most astute comment on all this I’ve read so far is that it will force President Zapatero to be schizophrenic – playing down nationalism in the Basque Country but praising its contribution to ‘sensible’ government in Galicia. But, as I say, that's life for a Spanish president, in a de facto federal state

The Basques, of course, argue that they aren’t really Spanish. But I couldn’t help noticing that the car in which ETA let off their latest bomb was illegally parked on a pavement for quite a while before it went off.

I occasionally ponder out loud on the future of the EU project, without ever making a real prediction as to whether it’ll succeed or whether it’ll collapse under the weight of its own internal contradictions This is because I really don’t know. The writer of this article, however, is not troubled by any doubts whatsoever. Scornful of any suggestion that, with the pound now at parity with the euro, British commentators would be wise to lie rather low, he makes this categorical assurance - “Before too long, there is going to be chaos in the eurozone. The confrontation between rhetoric and reality cannot be long delayed. The EU maintains that its currency will survive, not just because it bends the rules to keep unworthy economies within it, but because the European Central Bank will hold the line on interest rates. We'll see. The bending of those rules cannot long escape the currency markets. They have picked off sterling and the dollar – the time cannot be far off when the short sellers go after the euro.” Well, vamos a ver. Interesting times. There’ll certainly be a lot of European anger if the euro falls off its pedestal after another bout of ‘Anglo-Saxon casino capitalism’. And it certainly won't be attributed to problems in Greece, Italy, Portugal or Spain.

As the writer is something of a right-wing ranter in a right-of-centre British newspaper, it might be tempting to dismiss his views as simple euroscepticism at its worst. So it’s interesting to note that the left-of-centre Guardian carries a report that the great majority of Brits remain unattracted to the euro, despite the battering their currency is currently taking.

Back here in Spain, the council of a town down in the south has held a referendum on whether or not they should continue to have an annual bullfight. The turnout was admittedly ery vlow but the vote against more corridas was overwhelming and the result is binding. Who’d have thought it.?

Finally, here’s evidence that the folk at the First Post are still struggling with technology. Or recovering from a festive hangover . . .

In the September issue of Prospect magazine, the actor and writer, Alexander Fiske-Harrison, provides an elegant description of a bullfight down in Sevilla and asks whether aesthetics can justify the suffering of an animal. To know his answer, you'll need to go to the article itself. But here are a couple of extracts to whet your appetite:-

The bullfight is one of the most morally contentious of all legally sanctioned activities in the western world. There is a long history of argument against the bullfight, but the most notable feature of the modern form is that it takes the side of the bull rather than the man.

There is something ironic about British families sitting down to watch wildebeests eviscerated by lions on Big Cat Diary after a nice joint of roast beef while deploring their Spanish cousins when they are sitting down to watch a bullfight. After all, while slaughtering techniques have become more humane, most of the billion or so animals killed annually in Britain are still reared on factory farms.

But it is too easy to mock this hypocrisy. Bullfighting is most interesting because it does live on a borderline between right and wrong.

Galicia

Another conversation with my old friend visiting from the UK, as we are about to depart for a school of a Spanish friend who is, like him, a teacher:-
Col, do you have a tie I can borrow?
Why, Geoff? No one wears a tie here. Miguel certainly won't be wearing one.
Yes, but I want to be properly dressed to visit his school.
No, I don't have a tie and you don't need one to be properly dressed.
But I'm not comfortable. I want to look professional.
Well, in that case, you might want to consider wearing something other than trainers on your feet.
I don't have anything else.
Well, there you go.

Walking through a village in the hills yester-evening, we greeted two octogenarian ladies outside one of the houses. Whereupon, they seized the opportunity to engage us in conversation. Entirely - I might add - in Gallego. At least from their side. Having established that I owned a nearby house, one of the old girls asked if Geoff - who's one year younger than me - was my son. When I protested and said he was a friend of 40 years visiting from the UK, she gave me a Galician village apology - Does he want to buy my house?

The Spanish President and his ministers have now caught up with the rest of us and have recognised the economy is in crisis and that the country – like the UK - is close to recession. Given the welter of poor statistics and the pronouncements of leading bankers, it’s hard to see what else they could do. Even if it does make their pre-election promises and forecasts look like the chunderings of the village idiot.

Looming large among the negative developments is the announcement that Spain’s biggest property developer is on the verge of Administration/Receivership. Maybe it’s this which has compelled the construction industry – or some of it, at least – to stop claiming prices are firm and to admit, not only that they are falling, but that there’s worse to come. Of course there is. The house-starts of late 2005 and early 2006 will be coming onto the market soon, meaning there’ll be an ‘overhang’ of close to a million unsold properties by the end of the year. Plus those which have been bought but which the owners are desperate to offload as they can’t afford the mortgage.

On the other hand, housing starts have - naturally – ground to a halt. So, anyone for a shortage and rapid price rises in, say, 2012?

And every cloud has a silver lining. A recent cartoon in El País had a couple of [funcionario?] chaps worrying that the collapse of the construction industry might endanger town hall corruption.

Those of you who enjoyed the recent photos of a bullfighter getting the worst of the fight, might like to see this blog from the hispanophile, Daniel Hannan, whichever side of the divide you’re on

In a country in which 9am is considered early, it’s a real conundrum why the firecrackers which mark the beginning of a día festival are set off as early as 6.45. When even Spain’s few ‘larks’ are trying to sleep in. It’s doubly strange, given that everyone goes out on the tiles on the evening before a holiday. Starting around 11pm.

Can you believe it? – El País at the weekend had an article on the problems caused by the increasing urban populations of disease-ridden pigeons. Perhaps we’ll see some action now. And perhaps we won’t.

Here’s an article which addresses the conflict between the two great concerns of our age – global warming and poverty. As the writer says:- There are two prevailing fashions dominating the political scene, whose aims and effects are in direct contradiction with one another. But that does not prevent virtually all of the political parties in the Western democracies from attempting to embrace both at the same time. They are global warming and the mission to eradicate poverty. What scarcely any leader seems prepared to admit is that the objectives and tactics involved in forwarding the cause of preventing global warming are inimical to the cause of fighting poverty on a national and an international level. . . We are about to reach the end of this political game: "incoherence" may be a fancy word bandied about by political policy obsessives like me, but voters know a contradiction when they see one - especially when they end up paying for it. You can be the party of the environment or you can be the party of the poor, but you can't be both - at least not at the same time.

Galicia Facts

The good news is that, when it comes to wave power, Galicia ranks after only the UK. And, no matter how high they are, waves offshore look a lot better than wind turbines onshore. Even if the blasted things are in an ‘eolic park’

The bad news is that it’s the Galician women who are best educated who are being hit hardest by the current economic crisis. Perhaps this is because the service industries – including tourism – are surviving better.

The arrival of [semi] summer brings a lot of Spanish-looking people and their partners and kids speaking French and German. These are the emigrant workers returning ‘home’ with their foreign families. Then there are the Portuguese speakers, whose language may look like Gallego when written but which sounds somewhat different. At least to me.

I can’t decide whether the people who run with the bulls in Pamplona are brave or mad. Or just drunk. But one thing I do know is that some of them escape death – or at least serious injury – by mere millimetres, as the horns rip through their shirt or trousers. And I’d also hazard a guess – based on this morning’s run – that the worst places to stand are at the Curva de Telefonica or at the entrance to the bull ring. At the first of these, the bulls always crash into the boards there, adding the risk of being crushed to death to that of being gored to death. And at the second place, the bulls have to negotiate a severe narrowing of their path, nearly always impeded by a throng of youths.

Talking of Telefonica . . . . I see the launch of Apple’s new i-phone in the UK via their 02 subsidiary has been ‘a fiasco’. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer company.

There's a bit of a controversy raging here about the Supreme Court's decision to back a local council in the Basque Country on having streets named after members of the ETA terrorist group. This is a tough one but, on balance, I'd go with freedom of expression and let the residents decide whether they're with their local representatives on this or not. However, this is decidedly not the stance being taken by the right-of-centre ABC and El Mundo newspapers.

When you get to my age, you begin to notice certain correlations. And so it is that I can conclude 1. It's common in Spain for politicians to accuse members of other parties of a 'lack of respect', and 2. The people who most frequently resort to this accusation, are the first to hurl personal abuse when things go against them. Especially Nationalist politicians of whatever ilk.

Reader Moscow has provided this link into a report on the latest service/scam to be provided/inflicted on ATM customers here in Spain. I'm again reminded of how clever and how profitable Spanish banks are regularly reported to be, even in these straitened times. I did, however, receive excellent service when I went into my branch of Citibank on Friday to apply for a new debit card. I explained that it didn’t work in shops although I could still use it to get cash. The helpful clerk asked if I wanted a new version of the same card with the same PIN or a completely new card. I opted for continuity and elected the first option. Sadly, continuity is not what I got. Trying to get cash on Friday and Saturday, I was eventually told – at the 5^th bank’s ATM – that my card was useless. Can it really be that my old card has been suspended while they process a new one and that the helpful lady forget to tell me this?

Galicia Facts

Galician pictorial tourism signs are said to be 'chaotic'. By the Xunta, of all people. So someone's going to be commissioned to replace them all. Which is nice work if you're enchfudo'd enough to get it. Personally, I've never found them difficult to understand. Which is more than I can say about the written signs in Gallego. However, I doubt we'll see these changed.

For those with an interest, the Viajero section of El Pais yesterday had a feature on Pontevedra. Not too misleading, if a little poetic and lyrical. Like Portuguese women, I hear.

It’s official – We may have had 30 degrees in the last week of March but, so far this year, the average temperature has been 5 degrees lower than the 30 year average. Which is a lot. Global cooling?

The new Ministress of Defence was pictured this week taking her seat at her first meeting of the High Council of the Guardia Civil. I can’t be sure but it looks as if some guy - there are only males apart from her - is helping her into her chair. Which is preposterous for a woman seen as the main symbol of Spain’s new gender equality. How long, then, before Spanish women respond to this old-fashioned chivalry by dismissing it – as most Anglo-Saxon women do – as patronising?

As regular readers will know, 500 euro notes are called Bin Ladens here as they’re rarely seen. But they were much used for the countless ‘black cash’ transactions of the construction boom. Suddenly there are a lot of them around and some wag [Mark Stucklin, in fact] has suggested this be used as a rough guide to the state of the economy – the Bin Laden Index.

Since the end of the [largely manufactured] Formula 1 row between Alonso and Hamilton, the Spanish press have been remarkably fair to the latter. In fact, last week end’s reports on his victory at the British Grand Prix were positively gushing. Perhaps everyone here is in magnanimous mood after Spanish victories at the European football Championships and at Wimbledon. Or possibly they just felt sorry for the Brits.

If you scroll through the photos here, you can see why I say there's no denying that bullfighters are brave. Or mad. Something like the last one was given some prominence in the Spanish press. Or parts of it. Actually, I think it was the right-hand extension of number 11, which has been cut off for British eyes.

Should you ever wish to dry a pair of socks in the microwave as an emergency measure, I can tell you that it does work. However, it’s best to have the turntable going round and to avoid more time than is strictly necessary. If not, at least one end of the socks could well be scorched. If you’re lucky, this will not be the toe end and you can still put the socks on and hope no one notices the frayed edges around your ankles. Or the smell of burning. And, if you're really fortunate, your house won't burn down

Galicia Facts

There are now 1,261 villages in this region without a single inhabitant. As I’ve said before, you can now buy an entire village of cheek–by-jowl stone houses at knock-down prices. Which is not as good as ten years ago, when the council might well have paid you to occupy them. But Galicia had no agents targeting Brits back then.

On the other hand, you might want to know that, should you get into a dispute with anyone, it's reported that the wheels of justice turn more slowly here than anywhere else in Spain. Which is thought-provoking.

Photo Gallery: Parking in Poio and Pontevedra - The Sequel.

These are the snaps taken in my 10 minute walk back home the other day..

As it's midday, deliveries are being made throughout the town. And the pavement/sidewalk is being used for the convenience of the van drivers. About which, no one makes the slightest objection. Except those of us who make the token gesture of folding the wing mirrors back as we pass.


Here are two of a whole street of illegally parked cars, near the Post Office. The little huddle in the distance in the second one is around a woman on crutches who fell over trying to negotiate one of them. And the bins it was next to.




A typical midday sight outside my regular cafe/bar in the same street. Also prime wing-mirror-bending material. Particularly ridiculous 4x4s. Especially if the driver is sitting inside, waiting for his wife to finish her shopping or whatever.


This is a space for disabled drivers. There's no badge in the car and I rather doubt that someone with mobility problems would chose a Mini.


Not so common. But not so uncommon either. Despite the yellow lines and the warning on the door, the driver has blocked a private garage and will emerge - eventually - when someone trying to get in or out has blown his/her horn for several minutes. Then they will pass each other without a word being exchanged. Live and let live. There, but for the grace of God . . .


A couple of examples of standard bus-stop blocking.


The next two are of the sort of thing that used to infuriate me when I parked in this street before walking into town. Parking is just as much at a premium here as it is elsewhere but you'd never get this impression from the way the cars are left metres away from each other. But not enough to allow adequate space for someone else.


Finally, this isn't a parking photo at all. It's of the new roundabout at the far end of the bridge into town. I show it because 1. the far lane is completely redundant as it can't take you anywhere except where you were going anyway. So, 2. I expected to see the usual one or two cars taking advantage of its superfluity. But no. A minor miracle. Bloody Spaniards! So reliably unreliable . . . .

A report last week said that Spain had moved up the international ‘transparency’ league. Which was good news, though I believed at the time this owed more to greater availability of data than anything else. Now, this week, comes a report which endorses this suspicion, stating baldly that corruption is increasing here. You can read more in this article but here are a few pertinent comments – “TI’s 2008 report excoriates Spain for numerous corruption scandals and property abuses that have undermined the public’s faith in state institutions and led to the widespread belief that all politicians and business people are crooks. Despite a certain amount of public tolerance of corruption, there is a growing belief amongst Spaniards that corruption is on the increase and spreading in government and business. 60% believe the government does nothing or very little to stop corruption in the property sector and 10% believe the government actively encourages it. 63% believe political parties are corrupt, 41% believe lawmakers are corrupt, 54% that companies are corrupt, and 44% that the media is corrupt. Turning to public services, the same pattern emerges. 40% consider the judiciary corrupt, 29% the police, and 37% the tax authorities”. As someone has written - “The outlook is depressing”. But perhaps the end of the construction boom will bring a natural end to much of the skulduggery.

The PSOE cabinet appears to contain a number of youngish members who give the impression of being a little wet behind the ears. One such is the Ministress for Housing - Beatriz Corredor. Addressing the country’s real estate promoters, she’s implored them to have a sense of responsibility and to put their shoulder to the wheel to overcome the crisis. Assuming they can avoid bankruptcy, of course.

Talking of corredores . . . The TV commentators thought the Pamplona bull-run this morning was fantastico and fenomenal. What rot. It was all over in less than two minutes and the only incident was some guy getting his shorts ripped. This is not what I want from my annual foray into Spanish TV.

It’s not hard to find evidence of the insanity in British society that’s developed over the last 20 years or so. Today’s example is that of The National Children's Bureau issuing advice to play-leaders and nursery teachers that they should be alert for racist incidents among youngsters in their care. Allegedly, this could include a ‘racist’ child as young as three who reacts badly to being served unfamiliar foreign food. Or to put it as the NCB does:- “The children might react negatively to a culinary tradition other than their own by saying 'yuk'". To which the only sane reaction can be – Yuk! Using this test, at least 98% of Galicians are rabid racists, such is their reaction to foreign muck.

The pint of shandy was not the only over-sized product which I stupidly allowed myself to be sold in Madrid last week. Following my daughter’s advice, I asked a pharmacist for a particular sun filter and handed over almost 19 euros for it. Last night, I discovered down in Pontevedra that there are two smaller sizes and that the 8 euro bottle would have been enough for my meagre requirements. Things wouldn’t be so bad if the stuff didn’t go off in under five years . .

Galicia Facts

I now discover there’s a twelfth local rag. The Xunta has taken to producing a bulletin all of its own. And it’s riveting stuff.

Property construction in Spain takes at least two years, often more. Which accounts for the ‘overhang’ which will impact on the market for at least a couple more years. Anyway, the ones behind my house are proceeding at even more of a snail’s pace than usual and will not now be occupied within three years. Possibly even longer as they are a testament to developer greed. As you can see, they're not terribly wide:-

But at least they're wider than the gardens which give onto a concrete wall. Behind which lies the original granite which was so noisily broken up over six months, two years ago.

Redolent of 19 century industrial towns in Britain. And this is a snob area!

As you might expect, Spanish football supporters veer from wild optimism to deep pessimism as regards the chances of their team in any international competition. The European Championship starting today is no exception and the mood is currently muted. Or so it seems to me. But here’s an article from the UK press suggesting this might be unjustifiable. I certainly hope so.

And here, from the same paper, is an article which should be of interest to those who’ve got either experience of or plans for the camino to Santiago de Compostela. Especially if, like me, they adore suckling pig and roast lamb - the eating of which I always find to be a religious experience. Like taking a collection.

I was rather taken aback to see reports of the exhibition of bullfighting in the EU HQ in Brussels this week. And then amused to read Daniel Hannan’s take on this [misguided?] venture. My own view of bullfighting fluctuates between the extremes of loving it for its cultural significance and hating it for its appalling cruelty. If only I could just get on the fence and sit there. And talking of fences and bulls . .

The Spanish Minister for Housing insists that, unless you’re a vile, greedy speculator, it’s the perfect time to buy a property in Spain, as prices are now only rising in line with inflation. I don’t know what world she’s living in but the words ‘pissing’ and ‘wind’ spring to mind. Not to mention ‘lying’, ‘desperate’ and ‘imbecile’.

Galicia Facts

The official date for completion of the Madrid-Galicia high-speed train [the AVE] has long been 2012. I’d doubt there’s a single person in the population of almost 3m who believes this. So why the large headlines in yesterday’s press which greeted the relevant minister’s suggestion this deadline might just be missed? Slow news day, I guess. My bet is 2105. At the earliest.

This is the web site of an organisation called Galicia Bilingüe. You can probably guess what its objectives are. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear it’s a front organisation for that old right-wing manipulator, Manuel Fraga. Or even that it’s run by Franco from the grave. Anyway, I will post tomorrow a translation of the front-page article by Roberto Blanco Valdés.

Finally – A couple of blog postscripts:

1. Some readers will have realised it wasn’t necessary for the brothel called Club Tu & Yo to modify the ‘&’ so as to become Club Tony. They just had to turn the ‘u’ upside down.

2. If there are any other readers insulted by my apologising for saying something positive about Spain, I should stress this was a bit of ironic self-criticism.

Not everyone will be aware that the Cabernet Saugivnon grape of France’s great red wines has an older sister in Cabernet Franc. Or that the latter has been used for more than 2,000 years up in Galicia’s hills to produce a wonderfully fruity red wine, called Mencia. I mention this not just to bring this under-valued wine to readers’ attention but to endorse an earlier point that an imminent recession reveals its colours in all sorts of ways. Walking past a place with a higher-than-average menú del día yesterday, I noticed the board said you’d get a glass of Mencia with it. Which is another way of saying you won’t be getting a glass of more-expensive Rioja. How much lower can things sink?

I contend Spanish banks are deficient as regards customer service and Spanish readers point out they’re very successful and profitable – in the UK as well as Spain. Yesterday, I needed the address of a bank in town but could only find a phone number in the directory. Needless to say, it was premium rate. Which seems to suggest we are all right.

Bullfighting is something I can take or leave but, whatever else can be said about it, I’m in no doubt that the men who go up against the enormous beasts are brave. I was hoping to bring you a photo of one of them with about 6 inches [15cm] of horn in his thigh from the Culture page of yesterday’s ABC but it’s not on its web page. So here's a video clip instead.

And a photo I did find. By the way, the bullfighter [Frascuelos] is 60 years old. Possibly his last corrida, if he’s got any sense. Which he obviously hasn’t.

Here’s a final reference to the Eurovision contest, albeit in the context of geo-political developments. Specifically, Europe’s eastwards drift. Which should at please the British historian Norman Davies, who’s long argued that our Continental perspective is too western-centric.

Galicia Facts

The organisation which impounds cars in Pontevedra says it towed 371 vehicles between 1 January and 20 May. Or about 2.6 per working day of eight hours or more. On the face of it, this seems to justify the obvious belief on the part of drivers here that the cost of using an underground car park is not worth it, compared with the miniscule risk of getting your car towed. Even, apparently, if you use ambulance waiting bays, bus-stops or zebra crossings. Or if you double or triple park but have hazards lights which make your car invisible when they’re flashing.

Why aren’t there parking meters, you ask. Because an earlier scheme failed when the entire population declined to put coins in them. Or so they say.

The Anglo Galician Association – open to all who speak English – now has a Forum on the web. If you have a query about Galicia, why not register and post it.

I mentioned yesterday the telling responses to my survey of Spanish friends on the likelihood of a female President here. [By the way, I overlooked the redoubtable Mrs Merkel]. So it was a tad ironic to read that Hispanic voters had helped Mrs Clinton to her victory/draw [tie] on Super Duper Tuesday. The second irony was that perceived Spanish racism was the main topic of yesterday’s blog and that Hillary’s opponent was black. So, all in all, it’s impossible to draw any hard conclusions. As if I’d try.

I wrote recently that the salary of many [most?] young people in Spain is around €12,000 a year. This is not quite true as it was also claimed that Arts graduates get as little as 7,200 - because the business world regards them as poor team players who additionally fall short in English and IT skills. One wonders why they bother to attend university in the first place. Unless it’s just to spend 3 to 15 years failing exams while having a good time at your parents’ expense. Perhaps some Arts undergraduates never actually graduate. Or even try to. You could hardly blame them when there is no stigma attached to this life of leisure. And someone else is prepared to go on funding it. Plus give you a car in which to bring home your washing at the weekend.

Despite government measures, crimes of violence in Spain continue their upwards trajectory. I don’t know whether the rate is higher than in other developed countries but I do get the impression Galicia’s speciality is men above 60 killing wives to whom they’ve been wed for 40 years or more. Often these are retired fishermen and one wonders whether spending an unaccustomed amount of time together proves fatal for one of them.

The percentage of Spaniards interested in bullfighting is reported to have fallen from 55% in 1971 to 27% in 2006. And within the latter group, the vast majority are over 55. Not a good trend for those who make a handsome income from this cultural event. It’s actually possible to see it dying out in the whole of Spain, as it already has done in Cataluña.

French farmers have once again been demonstrating their particular understanding of the free trade essence of the common market by destroying Spanish fruit and vegetables on the border. And taxi drivers have been blocking the frontier because of a dispute about their fees. And why not; they’ve been pulling this sort of stunt with impunity at the Channel ports for decades now.

There are stock market upheavals all over the world but from Asia comes the news that theirs have been unsettled by the arrival of the Year of the Rat. Astrologers have said the Chinese new year will be unstable. Well, it certainly will be if everyone fears it will and acts accordingly. A one-way bet. Surely these people can be bribed to change their opinion. Where is corruption when you need it?

GALICIA FACTS

I wouldn’t have thought it clever just before a general election but the Socialist/ Nationalist coalition which runs Pontevedra appears to be falling out in public on an increasing basis. In the last week, much has been written of their differences on how to address the problem of binge drinking in the street and on street furniture in the city. Good knockabout stuff.

Tuesday evening saw the one of the main Carnaval [Entroido] events on the fringes of Pontevedra’s old quarter. Well, I say ‘evening’ but the start time was 11.30. It was billed as an evening of satirical performances, taking place on the back of large flat-bed trucks, and it was the first time in seven years I’d attended. But probably the last. It’s always a joy to mingle with fun-loving Spanish crowds but the performances left me rather cold. For the most part, they were by men indulging the strange Spanish male penchant for cross- dressing - either as women or as flamboyant homosexuals. This is reciprocated by members of the audience, as it will be on Friday, when we have the funeral cortege for Ravachol. But more of that later.

En passant, the binge drinking mentioned above – or even that which accompanies fiesta events such as Tuesday night's - produces UK levels of raucous behaviour, vomit and urine. What it doesn’t have is any violence. This is truly impressive but the pessimist within me wonders whether it can continue.

Finally - An Anglo Galician Association has been formed. Membership merely requires an ability to speak good English and a connection with Galicia. The one in Spain, not Poland. Anyone interested should write to angalass@gmail.com

Many people in the UK feel it’s difficult now to differentiate between the Conservative party of Cameron and the New Labour party of Blair/Brown. A British columnist suggests “The dividing lines in politics are shifting: the old disagreements between Left and Right are disappearing; they are being replaced by new divides such as those between liberals and authoritarians, and between modernisers and reactionaries”. I wonder if this can also be said about things here in Spain.

Talking of the UK, here’s an article on the theme of the hysteria displayed by what the author calls ‘tabloid besotted’ parents on the question of their children’s safety.

I doubt that it’s generally realised around the world that only a minority of Spaniards are supporters of the country’s bullfighting tradition. There may well be even fewer now, after this week’s publication of a report claiming it only survives on subsidies from taxpayers’ money. Meanwhile, though, interest has possibly risen this summer because of a long streak of good luck for the bulls in the few minutes before they’re ignominiously dragged from the ring. Spectacular gorings appear to have been more frequent than usual. Especially for one poor guy.

There’s something wrong about the clock in Galicia. By this I mean it doesn’t have the time its geographical position merits. Which would be the same time as the UK directly north of it and Portugal directly south. However, understandable political reasons keep it on the same clock as the rest of Spain. The plus is that we get very long summer evenings. The minus is that light’s in short supply in the mornings, especially at this time of the year, just before the clocks go back. As someone who always rises around 7.30, it’s been a little depressing to see the sun rapidly disappear from the morning sky. So much so that I’m now getting up in pitch darkness, though there will be temporarily amelioration after next weekend’s change of the clock. As I understand it, the main reason for this rapid blackening of the dawn sky is that, when the day shortens in autumn and winter, this happens more in the morning than the evening, hitting us early-risers the worst. To get off this subject, the Galician Nationalist Party has actually proposed that Galicia be on a different time from the rest of Spain. Thought not just by the one hour that would put it on UK/Portugal time but by two hours. This really would make a difference to my mornings but I’ve no idea what their logic is on this.

I see Venice has ‘declared war on the hordes of pigeons that are soiling its piazzas and damaging monuments’. Throwing rice at newlyweds is to be banned and the mayor will try to stop hawkers in St Mark's Square selling pigeon food to tourists. On a smaller scale, the only thing which mars my Sunday lunch of squid and white wine down in Pontevedra’s old quarter is the persistence of the pigeons as they try to steal from the bowls of peanuts on the tables. Last Sunday I was astonished to see a woman nearby was actually hand-feeding these flying rats. I was reminded of my brother’s comment that it’s amazing what you see when you don’t have your rifle with you.

Another little bit of Spanglish - I was confused by the word flases but eventually tracked it down as the alternative for the English flashes. So you can have un flash or un flas.

Talking of words, I was confused by an American author’s use of the [unknown to me] word bollix to mean something like to destroy. But Wikipedia came to my rescue with:- To bollix: To throw into confusion; To botch or bungle. . . The word ‘bollocks’ is sometimes spelled as bollox or bollix, to make it appear less vulgar. Its meaning is "to bungle", as in "The project was going well but my boss bollixed it up." This is the sense in which the term is generally used in the USA, where the original meaning of "bollocks" is almost unknown. "Bollixed up" is sometimes considered an out-of-date expression that has largely been replaced by phrases such as "screwed up," as the latter term has gradually lost most of its previously vulgar connotation. If there really is an American reader out there unsure of the original – and still current in the UK – meaning of bollocks, post me a comment and I will oblige.

The woman who heads up the Ministry of Development is still under fire for Catalunia’s widespread infrastructure problems. Not that this region has a monopoly of these; just maximum visibility. Plus, of course, highly vocal groups of Nationalists who’ve been taking Victimhood lessons since birth. At a recent grilling in parliament, the Minister was labelled by one of these an ‘Andalucian señorita’, implying she was haughty, arrogant and disrespectful towards the hard-working Catalans. To say the least, she was not well pleased. I guess the British equivalent would be someone from the Scottish Nationalist party claiming a UK minister was unfit for her job simply because she was from the Welsh or English landed aristocracy. Tribal nonsense in other words. But it plays well back home, I guess. Anyway, I suspect the lady in question is not long for the chop, if only because Catalunia is now seen as President Zapatero’s biggest challenge ahead of the March general elections. And ‘something has to be done’. I give her a month, max.

The Spanish state television and radio broadcaster has announced that for the first time in 51 years it won’t be covering the imminent bullfighting season. I’m not sure of the significance of this but it follows hard on the heels of news that a campaign has begun in France against the corridas that take place there. So, will Pontevedra’s bullring close in my lifetime? I rather doubt it.

Talking of France, I see it’s grabbed both first and second places in a survey conducted among British holidaymakers. The theme of this, though, was the world’s most disappointing tourist traps. Here’s the top ten:-

1. The Eiffel Tower

2. The Louvre (Mona Lisa)

3. Times Square

4. Las Ramblas, Barcelona

5. The Statue of Liberty

6. The Spanish Steps, Rome

7. The White House

8. The Pyramids, Egypt

9. The Brandenburg Gate, Germany

10. The Leaning Tower of Pisa

It’s good to see this gives the Catalans another reason to bitch. Ironically, though, if you take the Catalan Nationalist view that ‘Catalunia is not Spain’, Spanish involvement in this black list is otherwise only tangential. So, Spain is different; it never disappoints. Stay with that thought. Unless you regard sleeping as an essential element of a good holiday.

BTW, both Friday and Saturday's posts were very late. So may have been missed . . .

I am down in Estremadura and had only been here 5 minutes before someone asked me if he could have one of Ryan's puppies. Since he is the human equivalent of 91 and, more importantly, lacking the relevant equipment, this upset Ryan terribly. I had hoped he wouldn't understand the execrable Estremaduran accent but had forgotten he's a border collie. He will now make my day a misery.

The drive here took us through some lovely parts of Portugal, on empty roads. Which is just as well as Portuguese drivers can be even more aggressive than their Spanish neighbours. On motorways, at least, when you can find them in your back seat if you don't overtake sufficiently quickly for their liking.

As ever, it was a treat to eat in a Portuguese café. It must come as a great shock to Spaniards to realise it's possibe to have a conversation without the entire room being forced to hear it. On second thoughts, it wouldn't as the necessary antennae wouldn't be active. I suspect they'd just find the Portuguese dull. Lifeless, even.

A 14 year-old bullfighter from Caceres has been gored through the lung in Mexico, where it's not illegal to employ kids in this dangerous cultural pursuit. This is reported in the local papers to have sparked a controversy and a fierce debate among taurean experts. Well, it would wouldn't it.

Another controversy in today's press surrounds the proposal of the Minister of Education that first year Baccalaureate students be allowed to progress to the second year even if they fail 50% of the subjects. This, she suggests, will motivate them to stay on and not leave school prematurely. So bugger educational standards, perhaps.

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.

It’s official - Spain leads Europe for cosmetic surgery operations. The Spanish spend 800 million euros a year on them. The most popular intervention is, of course, breast enhancement [breasts enhancement? breast enhancements?]. Around 20% of patients are men, who go in for eyelid or abdominal surgery and liposuction. Which is also the second most popular operation for women.

The two main parties have issued their manifestos ahead of the May local elections. The socialists [PSOE] promise to place a cop in every school and to make it an offence to bother your neighbour or abuse public spaces. The opposition [PP] party says it’ll reduce taxes and take serious measures to eliminate town hall corruption. But I suspect there’s a low level of expectation in Spain that many of the commitments will be implemented. A propos, a columnist in yesterday’s Voz de Galicia wrote of the widespread and growing cynicism about politicians here, with 60% of the populace believing they’re in it merely for themselves, their families and their cronies. But this is not a suspicion confined to Spain, of course.

One of the things I enjoy about Spain is that commercialism is not as well ‘advanced’ as it is elsewhere - the other side of the coin of poor customer service. For example, supermarkets are not as skilled as in the USA and UK in forcing you to spend more than you want to. But, naturally, things are catching up. On Saturday, for the first time, I found it impossible to buy the product I wanted except as part of a bloody bundle. Thin end of the wedge, I fear.

Bullfighting does not, by any means, have the support of all Spaniards. On the other hand, I wonder in how many other countries a major newspaper would publish an article claiming that science proves a bull [or at least one of the toro bravo variety] actually enjoys being lanced and stabbed in the ring. Even if it is true. All to do with endomorphins, apparently.

80% of grandparents here are said to look after their grandchildren at least once a week. But only 4% are involved in any volunteer work. Outside the family, that is. I wonder what the percentage is in the UK of kids who don't even know their father, never mind their grandfather.

Galicia Facts

The female Galician soldier killed in Afghanistan was buried on Saturday, with more than 2,500 mourners attending her funeral. I’d guess this was a lot more than for the young woman hit at 3 in the morning by a car doing 130kph on the streets of La Coruña and being driven by a young man three times over the legal limit. Her family wrote to the Voz de Galicia yesterday asking, like me, why more isn’t done to stop this. And pointing out that the sentence handed down was a one year suspended gaol term and a two year driving ban. Who could blame them for feeling hard done by?

The average pension in Galicia is 7,044 euros [4,728 pounds] a year. I suspect this is close to the average UK state pension, so much better in terms of purchasing power. However, it’s 14% below the national average of 8,028 [5,388 pounds].

A reader [Carlos/Xoan Carlos] suggests I’m over-set in my ways and that my attitude is “sometimes so smug, post-Imperially British ‘I’m holier than thou and know better than thou too’ that it hurts.” He adds that, in my photo, I really should be wearing a pith helmet and carrying a bible. This is very unfair. But can anyone send me one or both of these? When I’m thus armed, I’ll consider publishing my list of the shared character traits of Nationalist contributors to my blog. Right now I’m working on making it less smug.

Mind you, it could have been worse. He could have accused me of being a Daily Mail reader. Or a Blairite.

Bang on cue, the Galician Nationalist Party [the BNG] has made two proposals which it clearly thinks are critically relevant to the challenges faced by the region. Firstly, it wants the local government to do something to ensure all ‘barbarically Hispanicised’ forenames and surnames are returned to their pure Galician form. Secondly, it wants kids’ toys to be ‘Galicianised’. Specifically, they’re unhappy about dolls that speak Spanish and not Gallego. You couldn’t make it up. The leader of the PP party [Mr Feijoo-who-should-be-Mr-Feixoo -or-Feixo] has rightly said there are surely more important things to be thinking about. But not for language fascists, of course. I wonder how long it will be before they ask for the return to a genuine Galician currency last used in the 11th century and bearing the head of, say, the mythical king Breogan. Meanwhile, the BNG says it’s not pushing for obligatory name reform; all it wants is a campaign from the government aimed at motivating people to act of their own free will. Maybe but who would rule out ‘erroneous’ applications for government jobs ending up in the bin?

The Minister of health recently published an article critical of bullfighting. The writer, Albert Boadella, has responded with a piece headed ‘Contradictions in the alleged defence of animals’. It includes the assertion that ‘Bullfighting is the last great art of the Western world, having miraculously survived all forms of political correctness’. Possibly but it would be nice if its supporters could admit it’s undeniably cruel before setting out the ‘artistic’ merits which mitigate this. Or perhaps this would be to put a first step on a very slippy slope.

Through my visitors this week, I learned that films are all dubbed in Germany as well as in Spain. Hearing Robert de Niro speaking in English for the first time, one of them exclaimed this was nothing like his real voice. Apparently, in Germany all famous actors have a doppelganger who accompanies them throughout their careers. Or at least until one of them pops his/her clogs. Here in Spain, though, my impression is that females of all ages and sexual inclinations are dubbed by just one – or possibly two – Spanish women in their 40s. On the other hand, there may be as many as 4 or 5 male dubbers covering the whole of the world’s non-Spanish output.

Barcelona’s last bullring has closed because of insufficient takings to fund the high costs of putting on a corrida. In truth, this reflects a nation-wide fall in interest in the spectacle. The percentage of the Spanish population said to be supportive has fallen from 55% to only 27% over the last 35 years.

Shopping today on the Wirral side of the Mersey, I concluded that, whereas dark-skinned women in Spain favour blonde hair, pale-skinned women here have a penchant for jet-black locks. Often drawn back tight from the face. On balance, I’d have to say, the Spanish women have it. By a long way.

And talking of the allegedly weaker sex, for the first time in history, married women in the UK are said to be outnumbered by singletons. According to the Office for National Statistics, there are now more single, divorced and widowed women than wives. I’ve yet to decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. And whether or not it’s too late for me.

Galicia Facts

Back home in Galicia, there’ve been more serious structural problems on one of our wonderful new roads. This time it’s a case of regular rock falls. Which is more than a tad worrying. The College of Engineers of Galician Highways [sic] has called for a meeting to debate the subject. I guess this would be a good start, provided the words are followed by actions and not just political mud-slinging. Meanwhile, any drive in Galicia would be best undertaken with two people in the car - one to look out for potholes and the other to keep an eye on the adjacent rock slope. A propos of nothing, the Spanish for the latter is talud. Which is not too far from ataúd. Or ‘coffin‘.

500 Galician homes tap into the earth for ‘geothermal energy’. I wonder if it’s the radon gas in all the granite that does the trick.