The new film about Elizabeth I has been panned in the UK for its distortion of English history. However, the British historian, Henry Kamen, says this is nothing compared with the liberties taken with Spanish history. These he listed in a long article in El Mundo or El Pais this week. My guess is the film will do nothing to reduce the widespread Spanish view of the British as arrogant. Or at least those of them not busy being uncivilised ooligans.

Casual swearing is even more common in Spain than in the UK. Both the F and C words appear regularly in conversation here and even on the TV. A nice example – My petite daughter of 30 this week went for an interview with a director of a company looking for an hour or two of English teaching a week. As she walked in, his comment was “Joder! Que joven.” Or “Fuck! You look young”.

I don’t suppose there were many viewers who realised that the chap who sang both national anthems at Wednesday’s ritual suicide of the English football team made a mistake with his Croat. Specifically – and much to the delight of the relevant section of the crowd – he mis-pronounced a key line and instead of "You know, my dear, how we love your mountains" he sang "My dear, my penis is a mountain". After this fine start, things just got better and better for the Croats. And their pride ended up as large as their penises.

Something similar once happened to a teacher in Iran. How can I make this simple? . . . 1. The Iranian way of saying ‘my’ is the suffix am, as in ketabam, or my book. 2. The famous Persian poet is Omar Khyam. 3. The Iranian for cojones is kay. 4. If you read some poetry to a class of 15 year old girls and then ask them ‘What do you think of Khyam?”, it pays to get the pronunciation right.

I’m on record as saying several times over the last 10 years that history would view the Blair/Brown government as one of the worst ever. Surveying the wreckage of the last few weeks, I’m feeling rather smug, on two grounds. Firstly, the claim is beginning to look irrefutable and, secondly, I don’t live in the UK anymore.

Finally, isn’t language fascinating? The Spanish verb acertar, which I’ve always thought meant To get right, turns out to also mean To guess. Which can be a tad confusing. All in the context, acierto. Anyway, here’s the source of my new knowledge:--

Dos ingleses se encuentran en un camino. Uno de ellos llevaba una bolsa al hombro.
- ¿Qué tienes en la bolsa? - dice el otro.
- Pollos - responde el primero.
- Si acierto cuántos llevas, ¿puedo quedarme con uno?
- Si aciertas, puedes quedarte con los dos.
- Bueno, pues... ¡Cinco!

Just to prove Spanish politicians are not always at each others’ throats screaming Liar, liar, you’re pants are on fire, the Senate has approved the new regional Constitution for Castilla y León. The only note of discord was abstentions by the PNV and BNG, which are, respectively, the Basque and Galician nationalist parties. I guess they had their reasons. Perhaps the new constitution doesn’t give independence to CyL. But where were the big-hitter Catalans when protest was needed?

Just what you don’t want to hear – In the same week as Spain toughens measures against those who drive at 60-80kph above the urban/motorway speed limits, the Road Safety Prosecutor has said there are more drivers on drugs than under the effects of alcohol. To deal with this, the police are developing a two-stage detection system. All strength to their test tubes.

It was reported yesterday that the country’s electrical grid had been on the point of collapse on Monday and that ‘The situation was saved by disconnecting some large companies for a time’. The Energy supremo blamed high demand at the start of the cold spell but added that two nuclear plants had been offline, while ‘renewable energy sources did not behave as expected’. But isn’t this their quintessential problem? Which reminds me . . . The Global Warming gadfly, Bjorn Lomborg, has recently written that he agrees that climate change is real and that it is caused by man but that ‘predictions of destruction on an epic scale don’t stack up.’ A better solution than inappropriate and expensive panic measures, he says, would be a ‘dramatic increase in spending on R&D into low-carbon energy production’, via national investment commitments. When you see oil-producers Iran and Venezuela cosying up to each other, you can’t help feeling this must be right. And the sooner the better.

Telefonica 1: Against the background of Spain’s appeal against the humongous fine imposed by the EU for abuse of a dominant ADSL position by this operator, the responsible EU Commissioner has said she’s ‘worried’ that Spain’s broadband is amongst the slowest but most expensive in the EU. She’s worried!

Telefonica 2: Another little scam? A friend has had a basic Telefonica line installed so she can get broadband from Orange. Coming to use it, she’s found she can only get access via one socket, in her bedroom. Friends have suggested this is because Telefonica have fitted the necessary splitter not where the line comes into the flat but only in the bedroom socket. Telefonica have said they’d be pleased to come back and rectify this, at a cost of 40 euros.

Galicia Facts

Spain as a whole is said to have fared badly in the 2008 Michelin Guide. Not a single new restaurant has gained three stars and a batch of places have lost their one-star status. However, up here in Galicia, two new restaurants have had this honour bestowed on them - Yayo Daporta, just down the road in Cambados, and Retiro da Costiña, in Santa Comba, La Coruña province. I wonder what their January price increases will be like.

When it comes to meeting Kyoto emission targets, Sweden heads the European list. Apart from her, only France, Finland and the UK have shown any significant decrease. Bottom of the class is, I’m afraid, Spain. As this is put down to run-away economic growth, maybe the next few years will see a better performance as the economy decelerates. Meanwhile, perhaps the glass-house-dwelling leader writers of El Mundo and El Pais will stop pointing the finger at the evil empire of the USA.

Tickets are have gone on sale for the new high-speed link between Madrid and Málaga, due to be operative in December. As was the Madrid-Barcelona link, in fact, but ‘local experts’ are now predicting 5 months delay. I suspect there are quite a lot of experts on delay in Spain but, anyway, I find it odd that the link between Madrid and Barcelona has had a lower priority than that between the capital and the south coast. Maybe it’s connected with the national belief that the first line went south to Sevilla because that’s where the then president hailed from.

Galicia Facts

The banner headline of yesterday’s Correo Gallego was that Oporto airport is taking advantage of the fratricidal battle between Galicia’s three international airports for a population of less than three million people. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll have heard this here first. On November 1, to be exact - when I added that “Looking forward, I’d hazard a guess that petty localism will continue to get in the way of any change that would benefit the Galician economy”. It’s bad enough when localists pick fights with Madrid but, when they wage war on each other, it’s disastrous.

I see that, since my trip last week, my local supermarket has repainted the lines and chevrons outside the entrance an even brighter shade of yellow. If this was meant to deter the individualists who can’t be bothered to walk 3 to 5 metres from the car park, it appears to have been an abject failure.

Our long stretch of wonderful weather finally broke on Sunday, since when we have been enveloped in the Atlantic Blanket.

Finally, if you happen to be a Polish plumber looking to move west, you might like to know Pontevedra clearly needs you. If, on the other hand, you are a Rumanian beggar with similar thoughts, please note that the post is oversubscribed.

Stop-press Sports Note: After England’s abject performance last night, I’m happier than ever that my team, Spain, has gone through to the European Cup Finals.

El Mundo yesterday angrily headlined the fact that school history textbooks were being ‘manipulated’ in those parts of Spain where you’d expect this to happen. By coincidence a Scottish columnist today congratulates the government in Edinburgh on its decision to include Scottish History in the national curriculum. This, he hopes, will mean an end to the propagation of what he calls the ‘Braveheart bilge’ that currently passes for history in Scotland. In a comment that would apply just as much to Spain as it does to Scotland, he adds that it’s entirely typical of the fraught nature of the nationality issue in Scotland in recent decades that something as seemingly normal as teaching schoolchildren their country's history has been caught up in politics.

Taking a wider perspective on nationalism . . . When I first moved to Spain in 2000 – doubtless influenced by an aversion to IRA and ETA terror tactics – I was instinctively opposed to the secession of any of its current regions. Seven years on, I’ve grown in my conviction that, provided the process is democratic, there’s a lot to be said for allowing the regions that see themselves as nations to go their own way. Early in November, El Pais carried a long and persuasive article that put the case for Spain being realistic and wise enough to accept that the only feasible choices now open to it are either a symmetrical federal state [USA? Germany?] or ‘national’ self-determination that would see Cataluña, the Basque Country and possibly even Galicia breaking away. You can read the original here and Google will give you an immediate – if rather rough and ready – translation. However, it would be nice if one of my totally bilingual readers could give us an accurate English version for something as important as this.

Meanwhile, back in the here and now of today’s Spain, parlous economic news continues to rain down on us. After the recent massive hike in the inflation rate comes a threat from the farmers that meat prices will rise at least 10% in January. As this is the month when everybody – especially the government and its monopolies - raises prices and since it follows a December in which much will have been spent on presents and five family feasts in little more than a week, my guess is it wouldn’t be very wise to open any sort of shop in early 2008.

For local governments, the really bad news, of course, is just how much their income will fall now that the Golden Goose of highly-taxed property deals has stopped laying. The big question is whether spending will fall in line with the sort of reductions - 4.9 billion euros in 2009 according to Standard & Poors - that are being forecast. Personally, I’d be quite happy to see an end to the public works which have made Pontevedra one large roadworks site for the last seven years. But I fear politicians may well be reluctant to curtail expenditure that has its benefits.

A touching scene on the streets of Pontevedra yesterday – a stone mason gently trying to take a bit of granite out of his colleague’s eye. But, as they’d both been chipping away at the façade of Citibank without wearing protective goggles, my sympathy was rather short-lived. There is too much of this [macho?] refusal to take sensible safety measures in Spain. Which might well account for her poor record on work-related accidents.

Finally – Another 14 people have been arrested in the great Madrid town hall bribes-for-business-licences case. And it’s reported that the brains behind this is a guy whose line of work is selling business premises. What genius! Via others, you manipulate and control the market for the very things you’re selling. Rather like Charles Saatchi with the works of modern artists. Only not quite as legal and admirable. Or at least admired. Saatchi’s huge profits, that is. Not the so-called works of art.

The Spanish government recently announced major new benefits for the disabled. One wonders how much analysis they’ve done of the UK scene, where it’s said that the incapacity benefit has been “abused and misappropriated to the point of travesty”. So much so, in fact, that it’s now acknowledged by all to be a racket. Indeed, data obtained under the UK’s Freedom of Information Act confirms that “an absurdly high number of claimants are receiving benefit for conditions such as obesity and vaguely defined ‘stress’”. Could this happen here? I expect so. But at least it will have the same beneficial effect of reducing the unemployment numbers, once people latch on to the possibilities of a lifetime benefit without strings. Or am I being too cynical about human behaviour?

Galicia’s saving banks [the Caixas] are traditionally involved in sponsorship of cultural events, possibly because they’re obliged to be. In fact, each of our two biggest Caixas has an impressive cultural centre in the heart of Pontevedra, dedicated to exhibitions and to regular events. Trying to book on line for one of these yesterday – with ‘trying’ being the operative word – I discovered at least one of these banks indulges in another Spanish tradition, charging you more for doing things on line than by phone. Can this be because they can’t or won’t make the overhead savings that would motivate them to offer you a net discount? Or is it just profiteering by not-for-profit organisations?

Up in the hills behind Pontevedra, a group of people belonging to a sect called Gnosis Samael aun Weor are having problems with the local council over six container-homes they’ve installed on land they bought a while back. A spokesperson insisted that the Barcelona dealer who’d sold them the containers had assured them they wouldn’t need planning permission to set them up as houses. Well, posibly not in Cataluña. And maybe not even here, in theory. I suspect the group will have to call on all its divine connections to get this solved. Including their celestial bankers.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been referred to – not unwelcomingly – as ‘Spain’s most prolific blogger’ and ‘the doyen of bloggers in Spain’. Yesterday, though, fellow blogger John in Barcelona labelled me ‘Old Reliable’. I’m sure he meant this kindly but, on balance, I prefer ‘prolific’ and ‘doyen’. Even if some of the insults hurled at me in Spanish and Gallego have been more entertaining.

Up in the hills above Madrid this weekend, a small multi-age group held what will probably be the last public act of homage to Franco in Spain, commemorating the 32^nd anniversary of his death. Under the new Law of Historical Memory such displays will shortly be banned. I wonder if it’s illegal to worship the Devil in Spain. I guess it is. But it will be rather ironic if it isn’t.

Early in 2005, I commented that ‘Building a house in Spain is a long and frustrating process’. I added, though, that work was proceeding apace on a couple of new houses being built near me and that they might just be finished in under the two years I guessed was the Spanish average. In April 2006, I went so far as to estimate that one might be ready for occupation in three months and the other in six. Nineteen months on, neither of them has yet been completed. And I rather doubt this will be achieved before the looming third anniversary of the start of construction. While this is not good news for the buyers, it does rather inspire me with confidence I will win my bet on the earliest date anyone moves into the houses being built on the other side of me. Right now, the Portuguese labourers are, as usual, working flat out but I have grounds for believing things will rapidly decelerate once the shells are finished and the emphasis shifts to work which calls for coordination of various sets of craftsmen. But vamos a ver.

I’ve long been using Google Reader to give me quick access to all the sites I read of a morning, but I discovered by chance this weekend two more Google facilities:-

Google Alert: These are email updates of the latest relevant Google results (web, news, etc.) based on your choice of query or topic. I’ve selected Galicia and await my first weekly batch. Click here, if interested.

Googlism: Using this, you’ll be able to find out what Google.com thinks of you, your friends or anything. Interestingly, it appears to think I am a famous British criminal.

Anyway, here – shorn of references to Poland and to a bank in Argentina - is what Googlism says Galicia is:-
a top seafood exporter
a leading region in agriculture
often misunderstood
tucked away in the north
an area comprising grass and granite that has a rugged coastline
always surprising
a viable alternative to the big cities and more well
the shearing of the beasts
a nationality of almost 30 . .
the greenest region of the country
a region located in the northwest corner of spain
undergoing political and economical development
an ideal location for lovers of nature
closely linked to the sea and its cities
time for dark green pimientos de padrón
often called españa verde or green spain
of little importance
probably one of the most beautiful autonomous regions of Spain
located in northwest spain and covers 2,957,509 ha.
green
cultivated with as much loving care as the grape vine
such a varied small country that ranges from the high mountains to the quiet beaches of . .
the latest to be added to golden bough’s ever growing celtic repertoire
classified as region objective number 1 by the european union
the place
'celtic'
a world in itself
the centre of autonomous government and a site for many professional associations and organisations which makes santiago a city
a small country in the north west of spain which has its own language
a very mountainous region with large tracts of heathland broken by gorges and fast . . .
not spain
the spanish autonomous region with the highest production of cow's milk
one of the 17 autonomous communities that make up the spanish state
considered in spain as "the country of a thousand rivers" despite the fact that their natural quality is very poor due mainly to agricultural practices and septic tank/leach fields which cause nitrate . . .
inviolable and is made up of 75 delegates that go to represent the four provinces of the autonomous community

As for poor Pontevedra, the response is - Sorry, Google doesn't know enough about Pontevedra yet.

I hope you have better luck.

The judge in the case of the cartoon alleged to have been overly disrespectful of the Spanish royal family pronounced that it had ‘crossed the thin line that separates satire from insult’ and so was illegal. The man has the wisdom of Solomon. Or at least he must think he has.

As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, our local estate agents are now facing a bombing campaign. The primary candidates for the latest incident are reported to be a small – and unknown to me - revolutionary group of Galician nationalists. These are followed by the usual local suspects of ‘people settling accounts’. In difficult times, though, there’s surely room for a suspicion of an insurance job. Albeit drastically executed.

Spanish politics: I see my vote for the next Socialist president - Deputy Prime Minister, María Teresa Fernández de la Vega – has now been given the additional challenge of ‘supervising foreign policy’. Which must have gone down well with the Minister responsible. In other circumstances, this would have afforded the lady even more chances for photo-ops but, given the existing one-a-day frequency, this will surely be impossible. At least in El Pais. My guess is that she alone is responsible for Spain overtaking Britain in the top ten list of countries where there’s some degree of male-female equality. A development which may have raised a few eyebrows. Especially female ones.

I see the Catalan government plans to impose a special tax on plastic bags, a turn of events with which I am decidedly sympathetic. Opening the box of a new phone I bought yesterday, I found each and every one of its contents to be encased in its own bag, including the bloody instructions. Something has to be done to stop this nonsense. But at least they’d put the Spanish and Portuguese leaflets in the same bag. And for such small mercies . .

A British columnists asks this morning “Where on the planet can't you get a Starbucks decaf latte these days?”. Well, here in Pontevedra, for a start. Thank God.

Which reminds me . . . I passed a police car parked in the old quarter last night with its engine running. Nothing too strange about that, of course, but there was no one in it. Resisting the temptation to move it round the corner, I commented to my colleague it must be because of things like this that the municipal police here are dismissed as clowns or country bumpkins. Unlike, I should stress, the fine officers of the Guardia Civil, who come very quickly and in droves if you tell them someone is in your garden.

Finally – Could there be a better example of Google search specificity than this?:-
Large photos of beautiful women scantily dressed
I suspect he wasn’t disappointed. Other than by ending up at my blog.

Random Saturday thoughts:-

Is there anything the world needs less than the Venezuelan dictator Hugo Chavez talking to Iran about swapping uranium for nuclear know-how?

When you go to the police station and make a report about would-be burglars in your garden and you provide your identity card, what possible value is added to the process by answering the classically Spanish question “And what are the names of your father and your mother?”?

Someone has said it’s now easier and cheaper to get a divorce in Spain than to negotiate the termination of a contract with Telefonica. But wasn’t this just as true before the new law came into effect? Even if it did take ten times longer to get a divorce before.

Can anyone get more than a blank page when they try to get information on the lowest price petrol stations in Spain when they click this government site?

Does anyone really know why milk prices here have risen by 24% this year or why Spanish farmers get more for their milk than any others in the EU?

Has any country missed its Kyoto emissions targets by more than Spain?

Does that country also have a press which is constantly criticising the USA for its energy consumption?

Who believes the BBVA bank when it says house prices in Spain will fall by 1.9% in 2009 and that the slow down in real estate will only have a limited effect on the Spanish economy?

Over the years of observation and consideration, certain conclusions become rather inescapable. One of these is that the Spanish establishment is not altogether serious about preventing the exploitation of [mostly] foreign women. Down on the main street in my township of Poio, next to a bar called Anfield, there’s a ‘club’ with the unambiguous name of Factory Girls. Just in case you’re remarkably stupid, there’s a large and helpful picture of what you can expect to find inside. Over the years, en route to its current name, this has been called The Playboy Club and then Xanadu. These cosmetic changes have, I suspect, been impelled by occasional police raids and court cases. Notwithstanding these, I rather doubt that Factory Girls, any more than the Xanadu in its time, is operating under new management.

Another ineluctable conclusion is that it can take some time here for the national/regional authorities to deal with corruption that is an open secret in the community, if not the entire country. Down on the south coast the current - almost unimaginable - case of the prosecution of the entire Marbella council has come only after decades of blatant malfeasance by the mayor, Jesús Gil, and his numerous henchmen. And now, this week, we have the arrest of 16 civil servants in the Madrid town hall who have, it’s said, been openly taking licence bribes of up to 20,000 euros for years. So why these delays? Priorities? Ranking on a To-Do list? The need for someone to retire before action can be taken? Bad luck? . . . Theories welcome.

More mundanely . . . A sharp contrast in local service levels yesterday. Following another man-in-the-garden incident last night, a neighbour called the Guardia Civil. Within minutes, there were at least 2 cars and 6 men in the street. Against that, earlier in the evening, I’d been called by a shop asking me if I still wanted a quotation for the repair of some hi-fi equipment I’d left with them in June 2006. A mere 17 months ago. But they did have the decency to apologise. By the way, such a rapid and plentiful police response is, I suspect, the stuff of dreams in the UK these days. Pretty impressive. And all remarkably friendly and un-officious. Though, now that I think of it, they did rather laugh at my suggestion that a dropped cigarette might have useful prints on it.

Driving through Portugal last week, I couldn’t avoid the observation there was a certain shoddiness about the towns I passed through. Crossing the border between Bragança and Zamora, the difference in the road quality on the two sides was so great I even entertained the suspicion the Spanish were taking the piss out of their neighbours. As I drove on via excellent roads and motorways, I asked myself why Spain was clearly getting so much more EU money than poorer Portugal. Perhaps, I concluded, the answer lies in the principle of ‘matching’ operated by Brussels. In other words, they will only give you a grant equal to the amount you’re prepared to invest yourselves. So, if you can’t afford the latter, you don’t get the subvention. Or the improved road. Any better theories? Or facts, even?

Finally, and of my own free will, I’d like to highlight the new link from this blog to Notes from Madrid. Which is excellent. Especially the stuff from the fruit of my loins, Faye Davies.

I raised yesterday the question of the ‘Norwegian’ Orkney Islands seceding from a newly independent Scotland. Gauging the Spanish/Gallego ratio on the streets of Pontevedra yesterday, I got to wondering how the government of a newly independent Galicia would deal with a demand from the Spanish-speaking coast that it break away from the Gallego-speaking hinterland. But this is a purely hypothetical question, of course. It couldn’t possibly happen. There must be a limit to territorial salami slicing. Yes?

The Spanish economy is growing by ‘only’ 3.8% at the moment and, of course, the forecasts for next year are rather lower. For me, the most worrying aspect is that Spain’s annual productivity improvement continues to be marginal, and from a low base. One wonders how the country will fare when the artificial boom of the last 10 years is well and truly over. On the latter, there are daily reports about how bad things are getting but I will lay off reporting any of these for a while.

As someone who tries hard to minimise the number of plastic bags I’m given, I read with interest of London’s decision to stop supermarkets giving them out. I can’t see this happening here, if only because we’d have nothing to use for our nightly deposits in the central rubbish containers. Unless, of course, we're forced to buy them from a specialist supplier. Perhaps the local council. Hmm. Maybe it will happen here quite soon. Especially if I buy a factory and propose a deal to the mayor.

I’ve long wondered whether my border collie’s intelligence isn't too high for my own good and now I have the proof. Confronted by two men at my front gate the night before last, Ryan barked furiously at them – it’s obligatory under Spanish law – but stopped as soon as they unbolted it and entered the garden. I assume his canine reasoning was that, if they came through the gate, they were welcome guests. Except they weren’t and they promptly ran off when I challenged them from a window as they headed for the back of the house. So, a lucky break for me that I was home but Ryan is now in the dog house and awaits re-training, when I can find the right course. Which will be tough as his Castellano is poor. And his Gallego even worse.

It was rumoured yesterday morning that there might be a trickle of rain before the moon came up. But there wasn’t and today has dawned as sunny as any of the previous 77. What a contrast – so far at least – with my first winter in Galicia, when it rained virtually every day from November 2000 to June 2001. But I guess there’s still time to catch up.

Dining in a Mexican restaurant last night, I was surprised to hear a mariachi version of that famous London tune, Roll out the Barrel. I was even more confused when my Paris-raised companion insisted it was a French tune. A quick search on Wikipedia revealed it’s actually a polka, written by the Czech musician Jaromír Vejvoda in 1927. There’s even a Nazi version. That’s enough culture.

The geopolitical theme of our peace-ridden times is surely nationalism. And the tide does seem to be turning in favour of those seeking to break up existing nation states or political unions. Provided things are done democratically, I see no wrong in this but it does raise rather intriguing questions of where it will all end. Will the Orkneys, for example, claim that some Norwegian link gives them a right to secede from a newly independent Scotland? As for the here-and-now, this is an article from a [right-of-centre] UK commentator who believes - as many now do - that the British union is already moribund. For a close-to-home analogy, imagine that a Spanish government full of Galician politicians was giving a subsidy of 10 billion euros a year to a Galicia run by Galician Nationalists demanding independence. Is it is so inconceivable that the rest of Spain would say Adios? Now? Within 10 years?

Talking of national and supranational politics . . . Yesterday, for the thirteenth consecutive year, the European Court of Auditors refused to approve the EU budget. If this happened to a government department, it would be front page news. If it happened to a private corporation, directors would be facing prison terms. But, because it's Brussels, we flex our shoulders in a shrug so disdainful as to be almost Gallic. Yup, the EU is corrupt. Et alors? How long can this go on, one wonders?

To my surprise, a significant minority of Spaniards – 40% - are reported to think the King was wrong to tell President Chaves of Venezuela to shut his gob. Even more of them – 76% - say it was wrong for the Spanish courts to fine two cartoonists 3,000 euros each for portraying the Crown Prince and his wife copulating in the doggy position. Well, 76% of Voz de Galicia readers who bothered to vote on line. I like to think they represent the country as a whole. Possibly even some right-wing fascists. This, by the way, is a tautologous phrase in Spain, where everyone even the slightest bit right of centre is routinely called a fascist. Though not all are given this honour by President Chaves.

Spain is now said to have more cars per capita than France – 501 per 1000 – but to lag behind Germany at 565 and Italy at 596. Spain, though, may well have the fastest drivers. Which reminds me . . . Last year here, a total of 344 people were prosecuted for driving the wrong way down motorways, resulting in 158 accidents and 35 deaths. The peak periods for this kamikaze behaviour were the summer and winter fiesta periods. Along with the early hours of Saturday and Sunday mornings, these are certainly the best times to stay off Spanish roads.

Finally, a new way of cooking lamb that I enjoyed in Toro, after my not-pigs'-ear soup . . .

The Spanish king was not the only person to speak out of turn last week. A gynaecologist up in Cataluña - trying to treat a tense patient - suggested she return after she’d been introduced to [by?] an aubergine and was more relaxed. He was subsequently convicted of abusing his position of ‘technical dominance’ and of using a phrase that was ‘offensive and degrading’. And fined 200 euros. The lady in question told the press it had got in the way of her having sex with her partner but I was left unsure what exactly she meant by this.

In another strange court case in Cataluña, joint custody was denied to a father on the grounds he had a limp. This, the judge felt, would prevent his caring for his two small kids, even though he was an international paralympic swimmer. The husband, not the judge.

During my trip to Toro and Tordesillas last week, someone somewhere said it was customary in the 16th century to depict the Virgin Mary with a small object in her right hand. A lemon, for example. So the lapsed Catholic in me wonders if somewhere in Spain there is a statue of her holding an aubergine.

Two announcements from Telefonica in the last few days. Firstly, their profits for January to September this year were 51% higher than last year. Secondly, they’re increasing some call set-up costs by 25%. I wonder if there’s a connection. And when we will have reasonably priced broadband anywhere in Spain.

For reasons which may or may not be connected with a relaxation in the law, the number of fatalities among motorcyclists in Spain has shot up by 33% this year. The motorcyclists themselves are up in arms against the crash barriers at the side of the roads, which they say act as guillotines in the event of an accident. But this can hardly be the primary cause for such an increase. Perhaps it’s the illegal racing.

Violence flared again during last weekend’s botellón in Pontevedra, when a young man was gashed with a broken bottle in the old quarter. This left a satisfyingly large blood stain with which the local press could indulge the strange Spanish affection for pictures of gore. Any more of this and I’ll no longer be able to differentiate between the drinking habits of British and Spanish youth.

Finally, here’s a sentence which has surely never been penned in the entire history of the world and will probably never be written again – Between 1^st September and 31^st October, southern Galicia had less rain than anywhere else in Spain.

So, good news for nationalists everywhere - Belgium looks ever closer to breaking up. That said, Wallonia might not last long as a separate entity, as 54% of the French are reported to favour its annexation. Flanders, on the other hand, could well remain independent. Or form a confederation with the Dutch. A British politician points out, firstly, that The countries which do best, these days, are small, agile ones, and, secondly, that Among nations, as among individuals, it is those who are made dependent on grants which suffer most. One inevitably wonders whether Cataluña, the Basque Country and Galicia would fare differently against these criteria. And I suspect the perception of fit amongst the populace would largely determine the outcome of any referendum on independence. As in Scotland, perhaps, where only 25% are currently said to favour this.

There are statues and paintings of a wide array of Blessed Virgins in Spain. One of the oddest must be the picture of the Virgin of the Fly in the sacristy of Toro’s main church. If you go to see this, be sure to take a look at the fabulous ivory and tortoiseshell carving in the same place. Astonishing workmanship.

It was in this church that I witnessed another example of what I always refer to as Spanish individualismo. Or easy disregard for rules. The church’s most famous feature is a marvellous 13^th century, Romanesque portico on which everyone seems – to me at least – to be smiling. You get to it through a door on which there’s a large sign forbidding photography. Despite this, a guy in his 60s had to be loudly reminded of this as he was about to snap the portico. “Just a little one?”, he unsuccessfully pleaded. And then spent the next five minutes moaning to his wife about pointless authoritarian attitudes.

In a related sort of way – I was amused to see the Spanish king telling the insufferable Venezuelan president, Chaves, to shut up during last week’s Iberian-South American Summit. My guess was that, far from being scandalised at this shocking breach of protocol, most Spanish people would be full of praise for his action. And so it seems. El Mundo had an editorial yesterday headed ‘The king puts Chaves in his place.’ Which does seem to be the majority view. By a long chalk.

It was reported last week that the feared result of a new Italian law would be the departure of hundreds of Rumanian gypsies in the direction of Spain. This comes at a time when our local press is warning us of the re-appearance on our streets of ‘deaf-and-dumb’ Rumanians collecting for a fictitious charity. Things could be worse; from the Costa del Sol comes a report that “gangs of Kosovans, Albanians and Romanians have targeted the chalets of Britons and other foreigners, wrongly believing them all to be rich.” This risk, it’s said, will rise as unemployment grows as the result of the recession in the construction industry. Which, by the way, is now being described as ‘faster and less gentle’ than predicted. What a surprise.

Galicia Facts

The bees in the north of our region are of the European variety, whereas down south they’re African. However, I can vouch for the fact they all buzz in Gallego.

A supermarket chain, Gadis, has made a bit of a stir with an ad whose strap line is Let’s live like Galicians. As it’s rather self-mocking, I guess it comes under the heading of Galician retranca humour. But I’m sure someone will let me know, if I’m wrong. You can see it here, complete with helpful but hilarious English subtitles.

Finally, click here for an alternative view of Norman Mailer, who was naturally lionised in the anti-American Spanish media. Never having read any of his books, I wouldn’t know where the truth lies.

My short trip down into Portugal and across to Castile was a spur-of-the moment decision, so not as well planned as would normally be the case. But, fifteen minutes down the road towards the border, it struck me I probably had intended to bring with me the small suitcase I’d packed the night before . . .

Stimulated by Michael Jacobs, my destination – after stopping for a wonderful lunch of fresh mackerel by a Portuguese lake – was the classically Castilian, hilltop town of Toro. This could be the quietest place in Spain – possibly because it’s not far from Portugal! – and, for the first time in seven years, I managed to sleep without earplugs. But, sadly, I didn’t bump into the mad woman who wandered round Jacobs’ hostel with an omelette on her head when he first visited Toro in the late 60s. Nor the barber who moaned to him when he returned in the early 90s that a small town of only 7,000 souls had 13 banks. Things could have been worse; in the 14^th century, the place had over 40 churches.

I did, though, find that I could feast on Galician octopus. In fact, it was the major item on the board outside the first restaurant I checked out for my birthday dinner. Fortunately, they also had traditional Castilian dishes, though I wasn’t sure what the floppy stuff in the sopa castellana was and feared it was pig’s ear left over from another Galician dish. Thankfully, I’ve since discovered it was just stale bread.

Should you be thinking of going to Toro yourself, be aware it’s bitingly cold even in early November and that, according to one of the tour guides, there’s a month during which the sun is never seen and the icicles never melt because of the 24-hour fog. My guess is this is in winter. Apparently this sort of weather contributed to the fact that the nuns in the unheated convent once had an average lifespan of only 25. I imagine they were quite pleased to pass away. And not much stiffer after they had.

Contrary to the published timetable, none of Toro’s three main churches were open. As the last on my list was next to the Tourist Office, I was able to have the following classic conversation:-

Good morning.

Good morning. Can you tell me when the churches in this brochure are open?

Now.

No, they’re not.

Yes, they are.

No, they’re not. I’ve just tried to get into them and they’re all locked.

Are you sure you tried the right door?

Yes, I tried all of them.

The brochure you’ve got is for the period until the end of September. This is the current one.

Are the opening times different, then?

No .. . . I’m going to call the woman in charge.

Maribel. I have some very angry people here saying the churches are closed . . .

I’m not very angry. Just perplexed.

I know but I have to say something like that. Anyway, she’s got a bit of a cold and had popped out to have a coffee. They’ll be open very shortly.

Many thanks.

In the end, I tried the churches again after visiting the Monastery of the Holy Spirit and found only one of them open. But it was a wonderful example of Mudéjar architecture and well worth the return trip. That said, my memories of it were later almost obliterated by the sensational Convent/Monastery of Santa Clara in Tordesillas. This was built in the 14^th century on the site of an earlier palace which combined Arab and Christian design. The whole place is a gem but the Mudéjar ceiling of the church must rank as one of the most beautiful things ever created. Simply stunning. Thank God for religion. Both Christian and Muslim. Sometimes and in some ways, at least.

Driving up the A6 towards Galicia, I noticed a couple of Castilian fields full of solar panels. As they were facing the setting sun, I wondered whether – like sunflowers - they rotated during the day to follow it across the sky. I decided that they did and that these places were effectively sun-panel plantations. Twenty minutes later, I tuned into a Notes from Spain podcast in which Ben and Marina discussed the huertas solares [sun-panel market gardens] that are springing up across Spain. Isn’t life funny, sometimes? Sunny, even. As I first typed . . .

Finally . . . The brochure of my hotel in Toro comes in Spanish, English and French. Respectively, it says guests will be attended to by a young team of professionals, a young and professional team, and a team of professional young people. I’m still trying to figure out the nuances. If any.

Tales of power-mad and/or randy priests are a staple of Galician village life but you don’t expect to see them covered in the local press. Recently, however, we’ve been treated to the saga of a 75 year old priest in the border town of Tui who became a little upset when his Brazilian housekeeper was told her visa had expired. So he nipped down to the town hall and, in effect, registered her as his common law wife so she could stay in Spain. However, his bishop has taken this rather amiss and instructed him to rectify matters. And to attend confession, perhaps. You can read about it here.

Talking of humour, I see that a new magazine specialising in the Galician dark humour of retranca has just hit our newsstands. The first issue seems to be dedicated to the ugliness of much of the construction in Galicia, a well-deserved target. You can read about it here, in an article which says publication of the magazine proves Galicians can laugh at themselves. It rather depends, of course, on who’s doing the joking.

In the UK, where it’s now permitted to criticise ‘multiculturalism’, it seems things have gone even further and one is now allowed to discuss immigration and its impact on British culture. However, you must do this under the rubric of ‘population growth’, rather than ‘immigration’. Since the latter always appears high on the list of things that concern the Spanish the most, I suspect this bit of political correctness has yet to reach Spain.

En passant, this doesn’t seem like a good time to try to get anywhere by train in Cataluña. Responding to recent criticism of her apparent ineptitude, the Minister for Public Works insisted she wouldn’t resign as ‘Only cowards run away’. This, of course, is on a par with the view of the besieged head of London’s police, who said that he must stay on ‘to sort things out’. By the logic of these under-achievers, the worse you perform, the more you need to stay in your [undeserved] job. How convenient.

Talking about Cataluña, there was a nice comment yesterday from my fellow blogger, Trevor, who lives there . . . Apparently if you go to the Barcelona real estate trade fair and say you want to buy a parking space, they’ll throw in a free flat. If you can get a mortgage. (Of course the sector is not in collapse. That only happens in other countries.)

And still on this theme, it’s reported that A slowdown in the real estate sector may be to blame for the decision of a large developer in the Toledo region, known popularly as ‘El Pocero’ [Mr Drains?], to sell three of his private jets, keeping just his largest one. Tough times, obviously.

On my walk into town everyday, I pass Pontevedra’s Fine Arts School. The young women who attend this are just about the only ones in town who don’t dress in exactly the same uniform as their mothers – a pair of tight jeans and whatever top is currently the rage. Not exactly London at the peak of the punk period – or even now – but different nonetheless. And probably the only bit of teenage rebelliousness one comes across. If you discount getting blind drunk in the Friday and Saturday night botellones.

Anyway, I’m off on a short trip down into Portugal and Castile. I may or may not find a cyber café. So, until I return, my best wishes to anyone who shares my birthday today.

Armed with my list of Galician authors and their books, I pootled along to the Pontevedra library to see if they had any English translations. Somewhat to my surprise, they didn’t. But then I realised the English section was understandably dedicated to classics for Eng. Lit. students. Until, that is, I saw the copy of Don Quijote. Checking with the librarian, I confirmed that the library, despite having a translation of this Castellano masterpiece on its shelves, offers no translations of works in Gallego. Time, then, for me to have a word with the city’s mayor. As he’s a Nationalist and normally speaks only in Gallego, I expect a sympathetic ear.

After the library, I polled along to one of our remaining bookshops to continue with the challenge. As with the others, the organisation of the books there seems chaotic to me. Plus there are no signs whatsoever to help you concentrate your search. Just like the Corte Inglés in Vigo, albeit on a smaller scale. So, not being a genius or a long-serving employee but being short of time, I left the task for another day. When I will simply ask one of the rather under-active assistants. My suspicion is the place survives on the sale of school textbooks.

I’ve touched on our local drug trade quite a lot recently but, in my defence, it has featured rather frequently in the local press. The latest sad development is the first arrival on our coast of ‘black cocaine’. This apparently lacks a smell that can be picked up by sniffer dogs. It’s sort of impressive to see the manufacturers investing in R&D but I imagine they can easily afford it.

Mad Britain: Good to read that West Yorkshire’s most senior policeman has complained that ‘the insane cult of health and safety’ is stifling common sense in the UK. Next step?

At the other end of the spectrum, the police here in Galicia are trying to infiltrate the gangs of morons who hold illegal car and bike races on public roads. From my experience, all they need to do is park any Sunday along the ‘old’ road from Pontevedra to Ourense and wait for the bikers to flash past. Though catching them night be a bit tougher. Unless they string a net across the road. Or a wire at head height.

Finally, El Mundo yesterday carried an article by Giscard d’Estaing in which – not for the first time – he said that the EU’s Lisbon Treaty was the same as the Constitution rejected by the Dutch and French, only with the order of things changed. So either he or the British Prime Minister is a fool or a liar. Or both, I suppose. In both cases.

When an organisation with 2,000 years of success decides to launch a PR campaign, you know it’s got a few problems. The Catholic Church here is Spain is about to remind us what it is and what it does. Mind you, the reason is purely financial; it wants a larger number of Spanish taxpayers to tick the box on their annual return which determines how much the Church gets from the state. Spaniards [and foreigners!] have been doing this for 30 years now but next year is the first time this will actually mean anything. In a nutshell, the state has decided to stop giving the Church an annual lump sum simply increased by the inflation rate and to let the [increasingly irreligious] populace decide how much the subvention is to be. Not before time.

Up in Belgium, the record for being ungoverned has now been broken and it’s said the continued absence of a Prime Minister is beginning to cause concern. For one thing, if the political crisis isn’t resolved by December 13, there’ll be no one available to sign the EU’s shining new Lisbon Treaty. Somehow, though, I’m sure the EU Commission will find a way to plough on regardless of such a nicety. It always does.

Having bought several products festooned with Fair Trade tags or labels in the UK last month, I wondered how long it would take for this to be commonplace here in Spain. I still don’t know the answer to this but, walking through a galería last night, I noticed workmen fitting out a place called Tienda de comercio justo, or Fair Trade Shop. I’ll be interested to see how successful it is. Incidentally, shop-fitting seems to be one of the things done very efficiently in Spain. But they certainly do get enough practice at it, at least here in Pontevedra. Cynical Spanish friends insist it’s got something to do with the laundering of drug profits but I’ve no idea whether this is true or not.

The Professor of Irish History at Oxford University has just published a book entitled “Luck and the Irish”, which deals with the 20 year success of “the Celtic Tiger’. Talking on the BBC last week, he addressed the question of how much Ireland owed this growth to membership of the EU. He said opinion was decided on the impact of the massive subventions but stressed that the low EU interest rates had been instrumental in attracting vitally important US investment. “However”, he added, “the greatest stroke of luck the Irish have had is that ‘800 years of suppression’ has left them with the English language”. Food for thought, perhaps, for those Galicians who see Celtic Ireland as their model for an independent Celtic Galicia in which everyone is obliged to have Gallego as their first language. The Irish Nationalists did, of course, try this with Gaelic when they came to power but abandoned it quite early on. The Professor, by the way, is Irish, not English. George Santayana, of course, was neither but he knew a thing or two about history. And, ironically, he was born in Spain.

Just as the ten year building boom is ending – along with its bonanza of 7% tax on each sale – the Galician Xunta has decided it’s a good time to set up an agency to stop what’s called here ‘savage urbanisation’ and to prevent further despoliation of the coast. Maybe they were too busy on other things before now. Reviewing planning permits perhaps.

Readers who know I have a bet on will understand why I cite this quotation from a Spanish news source - There is more evidence of the slowdown in the Spanish real estate market, with data published this morning showing that the price of retail housing has fallen in ten regions of the country for the fourth consecutive month.

At a local level, I’ve decided to take an Anglo-Saxon approach to one particular real estate issue. Talking to a couple of my neighbours in the street yesterday about the fear in the air that our local displaced gypsies will set up camp elsewhere, I told them I’d decided to sell my house to one of said gypsy families at a price way above the market rate but that, if they and other neighbours wanted to meet it, I’d be happy to sell to them. I got the impression from their nervous laughter they thought I was joking.

Galicia Facts

Only 2% of fathers here take any of the paternity leave to which they’re entitled.

In 2006, Galician companies invested three times as much outside the region as foreign companies invested here - 5.6bn euros, against 1.7bn. This time, ‘foreign’ really does seem to mean from outside Spain and not just from Cataluña, Andalucia, etc. as the major investee countries were France, Germany, Italy, Mexico, Brazil and Portugal.

Finally, some culture . . . If you click here, you’ll find [on my Galicia web page] a rough-and-ready list of the Spanish authors cited by Michael Jacobs in his [sort of] literary odyssey around Spain in the early 90s.

For those with most interest in Galicia, here’s the relevant extract. The dates are only indicative of the period:-
Ramón Valle Inclán, 1920s. Bohemian Lights and Divine Words
Rosalía de Castro, 1870s. Galician Ballads, Follas Novas, and By the Banks of the Sar
Emilia Pardo Bazán, 1870s. La Tribuna
Pérez Lungín, 1920s. The House of Troy
Alvaro Cunqueiro, modern. The Traveller in Galicia
Camilo José Cela, 1950s. The Hive, Divine Words, Journey to the Alcarria, and Pascual Duarte

I’m afraid I can’t say right now which of these are available in English. More anon.

Spain has a couple of small territories in North Africa, Ceuta and Melilla. The Spanish have no difficulty in distinguishing between these ‘enclaves’ and the ‘anachronistic colony’ of Gibraltar, though the rest of the world possibly finds this a rather tougher task. Anyway, the government of Morocco – which claims both territories – has acted rather negatively to an imminent visit by the Spanish monarchs and has temporarily recalled its ambassador from Madrid. The Spanish press has criticised this gesture even though it’s remarkably slight compared to how Spain used to act over Gibraltar. For what it’s worth, I agree with the view that the people of these places should have the choice on which state they belong to. As with Scotland. And Galicia . . .

The Formula 1 saga surely brought no credit to any of its key participants. So no one can be much surprised to see Alonso departing for another team and Hamilton emigrating to Switzerland ‘to escape the British tabloids.’ Personally, I’m rather more interested in what Carrefour are going to do with the huge model McLaren car they’re promoting in our local hypermarket. This features both drivers on the box and I had wondered whether Carrefour shouldn’t black out the much-hated Hamilton’s photo if they wanted to shift large quantities ahead of Xmas. But, now that Alonso has quit the team, there’s surely a case for obliterating both images.

Incidentally, McLaren are reported to have said they’ll sue Alonso if he doesn’t keep his gob shut about the team. Fat chance. Keeping his opinions to himself is not this young man’s speciality. He is after all . . . Asturian.

Another of those conversations, this time on the phone . . .
Hello. Is that the Secretary of the Philharmonic Society?
No.
Sorry. I must have the wrong number. Is this 986 XXX XXX?
Yes it is.
Oh. I’m confused as it was given on the Xunta’s web page as a number for the society.
I used to be President.
In that case, can you tell me how to become a member?
You have to attend a concert and get a form.
Can you tell me when the next concert is?
No. You’ll have to look in the newspaper.
Thanks.

And a British couple getting ready to drive off the boat at Santander . . .
Her: Who’s driving, you or me?
Him: I don’t mind.
Her: No, you decide. [Slight pause] No, I think I’d rather you navigate. Is that alright with you?
Him: Yes.
Her: Now, have you got the right maps?

It was another gloriously sunny day yesterday and I took myself off to a fiesta in one of the little villages in the hills. As this is called O Campo, or The Field/Countryside, you can imagine where the first set of directions sent me. Luckily, I met a more knowledgeable local policeman before I’d gone too far into the back of beyond. The fiesta turned out to the usual mixture of stalls, though I was rather taken by the wild boar on a spit waiting to be roasted, complete with a banana in its mouth. But most appealing was a little display of local costumes, musical instruments and artefacts. As ever, I was left with a strong conviction it was totally legitimate to spend public funds on promoting Galician culture and language. Though without making the latter compulsive, either de jure or de facto. Others are uncomfortable with this ambivalence but I’ve lived too long to give up on my libertine instincts. Incidentally, I’d be interested to know why rapaz means lad/young person in Gallego and Portuguese. Especially as it means rapacious in Spanish. In this case, at least, it’s Spanish which is closer to the original Latin. You may think this is hardly important but, believe me, when you’re trying to demonstrate the superiority of Portuguese and/or Gallego over ‘Castellano’, it really is.

Relatedly, the Voz de Galicia reports that the state of Gallego amongst young people is better than it’s been for a long time. I’d realised this a few days ago when the son of my Gallego-averse neighbours asked me in the garden Que fas?, instead of Que haces?

Back to less ethereal matters – The council of La Coruña has announced it will ban the weekend botellón from residential areas from January next. This will surely comfort the city’s residents but hardly addresses the key issue of illegal street drinking. Continuing on the theme of juvenile excess, I was surprised to read in yesterday’s El Mundo that Spain now leads Europe in the number of pregnancies among minors. This was 23,000 last year, resulting in 10,000 abortions. I had thought this dubious honour belonged to the UK.

Finally, someone needs to take to task the New York Times for an article which discusses the origins of Christopher Columbus without even hinting at his true place of birth – right here in Poio, across the river from Pontevedra. Ignorant damn Yanquis. Not to be confused with yonquis.

In his excellent book, Between Hopes and Memories, Michael Jacobs writes this about the Brits who, by the early 90s, had discovered northern Spain – The British who now flock to Cantabria . . . are of a different kind from their counterparts in southern Spain: generally more discreet, more middle-class, more interested in sightseeing. They love the mild climate, the quiet, sandy beaches and the wealth of old churches and pretty villages to be seen on rainy days; and they are delighted by the traditional houses they can hire. Writing now, he’d have to add that this type of Brit has ventured west from Cantabria, into Asturias and Galicia. And they not only hire houses but buy them. Especially near Lugo and Ourense, where they’re still relatively cheap despite rising demand over the last 5 years. Because of my [5 year old!] web page on Galicia, I’m occasionally accused of some responsibility for bringing these folk here. But, given the state of Galicia’s rural communities up in the mountains, I can’t say I feel any guilt. And I’m sure their money is most welcome to the local councils. I’d even lay a large bet most of them learn Gallego as well as Spanish. The Brits, of course. Not the councils, who won’t use anything else.

El Pais is currently highlighting the degradation of Spain’s coast, as part of its coverage of the government’s high-profile demolition campaign. Yesterday, it told us that Almería and Granada have the least built-up but most threatened coastlines and it treated us to evidence by way of aerial photographs of places such as Enix. I guess we can now all easily see for ourselves via Google Earth. At the personal level, it’s reported that luminaries such as Antonio Banderas are at risk of having palatial houses knocked down. Which probably serves them right as they could surely have afforded a lawyer to check on the legality of their properties. As if they needed to.

For those with a deep interest in the Madrid bombing trials and their political significance, here’s a blog which I wish I’d known about before now. I blame the author, Graeme, for hiding his light under a bushel. For those who just want an amusing take, here’s the content of El Mundo cartoon:-
Husband: They’ve announced the trial verdicts.
Wife: Who won? The government or the opposition?

Talking of politicians, I’m willing to pay 100 euros to anyone who can find an edition of El Pais in the last year that doesn’t feature a photo of María Teresa Fernández de la Vega, who is actually only one person and not three. In my estimation, she’s being positioned as Zapatero’s replacement. Which probably proves how little I know of Spanish politics.

If my eyes do not deceive me, the fashion industry is instructing young – and not-so-young – women to wear black and white this autumn/winter. At least here in Pontevedra. Appropriately, these happen to be the colours of sheep.

Finally, that well-known British sceptic, Christopher Booker, says here that global temperatures in the years since 1998 have no longer been rising and may soon even be falling. If so, he adds, the global warming scare will turn out to have been “as great a collective flight from reality as history has ever recorded.” Vamos a ver.

Unless you live in a cave, you’ll be aware the Spanish courts have handed down huge sentences to several of the people implicated in the appalling Madrid bombings of March 2004. However, some were acquitted and the government has admitted it never caught the brains behind the operation. I can’t pretend to understand the full implications of the trial and the verdicts – I hadn’t even been aware that at the far end of the loony Right there were those who thought the whole thing was a set-up by the Socialists and ETA to oust the Partido Popular from power – but I can say that there’s enough in the outcome to give each side grounds for persisting with the favourite Spanish political game of calling your opponent a scheming liar. Rather sad really. But we do have another general election coming up. So anything goes. Especially here.

A final funereal fact, albeit local – Only 3% of gravestones in Galicia are written in Gallego. This is despite the fact very high percentages of people here are said to routinely use or at least understand the language. So, what’s the explanation? Are the control-freak priests all still fascistic, Castilian colonists at heart? This reminds me – I need to apologise to the good people of Ourense for suggesting their city is the coffin capital of Europe. This is, in fact, Ribadavia - a few kilometres away. For reasons unknown to me, the Ourensians are more associated with umbrellas. But only in a pejorative sense.

Still on Galicia - Of the 23,000 kids who graduated here between 2003 and 2005, some 6,700 [or 29%] are said to be still without employment. As ever when I read this sort of thing, I wonder how many parents have asked their still-at-home offspring “Err. . . Have you ever thought about looking for work in Madrid, Barcelona, Alicante, Malaga, etc.?” To which the answer probably is - “I can’t. I’m studying for my oposiciones.” Probably very unfair of me.

And finally on Galicia – 1.4 million people, or 52% of the population, are now said to live in the region’s six metropolitan areas. In detail – Vigo, 395k; La Coruña, 351k; Santiago, 143k; Ourense, 140k; and Pontevedra, 114k. I realise these numbers don’t total 1.4m but that’s not my fault. This is presumably because Lugo is missing. And maybe we haven’t been given the numbers for Buenos Aires, usually referred to as Galicia’s 7^th city.

For all those Gallegos living in BA or elsewhere in the diaspora, here and here are a couple of things which should overwhelm you with morriña.

A quick follow-up to my comment on airports yesterday – Ryanair has said it’s increasing its flights from Oporto while reducing those from Santiago.

Insane Britain: Click here for a Saturday-morning article on how British society has moved in 40 years from one founded on [doubtless excessive] deference to one rife with disrespect. I particularly like the point that respect still operates in the USA, where they’ve never been very big on deference. Australia too, I imagine. As for Spain, I’ve said before that it remains a more civil place than the UK.

Finally, if you’re not Spanish but live here, here's where you can test how Spanish you are. Before anyone writes in to protest, I should say that it appears to have originally appeared in Spanish, presumably as home-grown satire.

Notes

1. If you think this blog is too negative, click here for my list of Spain’s Positives.

2. If you want to send a comment or insult me but don’t want to register with Google, you can send your views directly to me, in any language you like, at this address. I may even reply to you.

This is the time of year – around the Feast of All Souls – when Spanish thoughts turn to death. As I result, I now know that the average cost of a burial in Spain is 2,500 euros. However, this ranges from only 1,000 in Badajoz in poor old Estremadura to 3,000 in Alicante or Palma, Majorca. I’ve also learned that only 10% of bodies are cremated here but that the ashes of a good 20% of these are fashionably buried in biocombustible pots.

There was a lot of gloom at the English Speaking Society of Pontevedra this week, where all the talk was of belt-tightening and the reducing spend on weekend jollies. Allegedly, the city is now dead of a Friday night and restaurants and discos are suffering from appreciably lower numbers even on Saturdays. I wonder, firstly, if this is really true and, secondly, whether it will be reflected in the weekend road mortality figures. It’s an ill wind . . .

I’ve said often that a major cultural difference between Spain and Britain is the weekend binge drinking here rarely involves violence. Friends claim things are changing and I was reminded of this when reading that a youth had lost his eye in a fight during last weekend’s botellón down in Pontevedra. So it seems a strange time for the Galician Nationalist Party [the BNG] to issue an appeal that the authorities don’t take measures against the growing problem of binge drinking among 12 to 18 year olds that would criminalise them for merely engaging in social activities. Maybe they’re after the youth vote.

The threat of having displaced gypsies in your backyard has now led several local villages to protest against the likelihood. A few hundred metres from my house – and despite the lack of any evidence - residents of a block of council flats are up in arms against the possibility the local council has evicted some absentee residents merely as a prelude to moving in a gypsy family. And now the [BNG] mayor of Pontevedra has got in on the act and issued assurances that the problems of Poio [across the river] won’t be allowed to impact on his constituents. The reaction of the [BNG] mayor of Poio has been to suspend the court-ordered demolition of illegal shacks as – understandably – he can see no clear way to re-housing the displaced residents. A few years back, there was talk of a new block of flats being built by the Poio council specifically to house all the gypsies from our two permanent settlements. But this never figures in the news reports these days. Perhaps the mayor shares the very widespread view that the gypsies would strip the building of everything sellable and then return to their camp.

A British columnist claims that the Scottish Prime Minister – or should I say the Prime Minister of Scotland, as this label also fits Gordon Brown? – knows full well he’ll never be able to convince the cautious Scots to vote for independence as they’re far too canny [clever] to risk it and know their economic and political future would be blighted if they were cut adrift. So, his strategy is to annoy the English at every turn so that, finally fed up, they unilaterally throw Scotland out of the Union. He may well succeed but this week’s interesting and ironic background is that less than 25% of Scots now want independence, which is the lowest number for 10 years. My own impression is that things are similar in Galicia as regards independence from Spain. And not until there is a Nationalist president here will the Xunta pick fights with the centre as regularly as Mr Salmond is now doing from Edinburgh. The same, of course, cannot be said of Cataluña, where Madrid-baiting is the national sport. In a word, our Nationalists are divisive but not as divisive as they could - and would probably like to - be.

Another UK columnist started her article this morning with this comment - The concept of hospitality lies at the very heart of Arab culture. Based on my own experience, I’d change Arab to Middle Eastern. Pondering on this, my conclusion was it can also be said of all southern European countries but that it becomes less true as you move northwards. I leave it to others to speculate as to why. Assuming they agree with me.

Notes

1. If you think this blog is too negative, click here for my list of Spain’s Positives.

2. If you want to send a comment or insult me but don’t want to register with Google, you can send your views directly to me, in any language you like, at this address. I may even reply to you.

Well, here in Galicia, November has dawned as sunnily as September and October. If this is climate change, I could probably warm to it. Though the nights are now cold.

A bit to my surprise, the government is reported to have begun to deliver on its promise to address the issue of illegal building along Spain’s huge coastline. So far this year, it says, 665 properties have been demolished, which contrasts with only 40 in 2004. Specifically - The policy is now part of the new Sustainable Strategy Plan for the coastline and has seen the demolition of empty properties where construction has stopped either because of the Law of the Coasts or after agreement has been reached with owners. I guess this still leaves open the question of what will happen to finished, occupied properties whose owners are unwilling to reach an agreement with the government.

Topically, I learned from a friend yesterday that village land compulsorily purchased from her parents for an industrial estate at 10 euros a square metre had just been put on the market at 95. And this before they’ve received a centimo of this extortionate price!

I was pondering yesterday on the statistic I reported last week that only 24% of Spaniards smoke. Then it struck me that the question they were probably asked was Do you smoke every day?. And that, if they’d been asked Do you smoke whenever you go to a tapas bar or restaurant?, at least 80% of them would have replied “Absolutely. Why not?” Or something like that.

I mentioned recently the Galician Nationalist Party would like our clock to be the same as that of Portugal and Britain. Ironically, in the UK there’s a large and growing body of opinion that the country should move to Central European Time. Doing so, it’s argued, would save more than a hundred lives a year, effect significant energy savings and also bring British business hours into line with those of the Continent. The consensus is that the factor blocking change is resistance in Scotland. However, now this country has its own government, it would be possible for England, Wales and Northern Ireland to change their clocks to CET while Scotland stayed on British Time. Wonderfully, then, the prospect is of a nationalist government in Galicia moving the region to British Time just as most of Britain moves to European time. But at least the governments of Galicia and Scotland would then be on the same time. What nationalist solidarity!

The distance between La Coruña in the north of Galicia and Vigo in the south is 137km, or 86 miles. This relatively short distance encompasses three international airports, one in each of the above two cities and the third in Santiago. Naturally, they compete for business. And, equally naturally, they waste considerable time and resources on this provincial infighting. As a result, their offerings are considerably below those of the single airport in nearby Oporto in north Portugal. This has 33 international destinations, against merely 7 for both Vigo and La Coruña and 16 for Santiago. It also has both Ryanair and Easyjet flying to foreign cities, which can’t be said for any of ours. Not surprisingly then, more than 400,000 Galicians chose to use Oporto every year, a number which has probably soared since Iberia – in a fit of pique – moved its international flights from central Santiago to north-coastal La Coruña. As a result, in the ten years I’ve been flying here, Oporto has transformed itself into a major international airport and the small Galician airports have expanded only marginally, if at all. Looking forward, I’d hazard a guess that petty localism will continue to get in the way of any change that would benefit the Galician economy.

I reported last week that our local council has knocked down two of the eight illegal properties on the nearby gypsy encampment. To no one’s great surprise, they’ve again ducked out of completing the process. So the unhappy local residents will once again take the council to court. And thus the saga will continue. Ad infinitum I guess.

Finally . . . A sentence you don’t see very often – Here’s an interesting article on Belgium. And the EU.