¡Vegemite!

Look what I found recently in Barcelona! I was stoked (that's a word that I haven't used for years, but it seems very fitting to describe the joy finding Vegemite).

For those of you who don't know what this food-of-the-gods is, it's a yeast extract. A thick, black paste you spread on bread or better still, hot toast at breakfast.

Sounds inviting, no? Well, the truth is, if you weren't brought up on it, you'll probably find Vegemite pretty repulsive. Thankfully for Vegemite, most Australians are eating it pretty much as soon as they start on solids.

I found it in a most unusual place - a British supermarket. Now that is unusual for a couple of reasons: 1) I don't think I know a Brit who is a fan of Vegemite and 2) the British have their own version, Marmite, which they swear is far superior. I of course do not agree.

So for you Australians who find yourselves in Barcelona with a hankering for Vegemite on toast, here’s where you’ll find it:

A Taste of Home - English Food Shop

Carrer de Floridablanca, 78, Barcelona, 08015

Happy little vegemite…

Greyhounds (Galgos)...

Meet Eddy. He's a six-and-a half year-old galgo (greyhound). He's a hell of a dog - as cheeky as he is adorable, affectionate and smart (yeah, yeah - proud daddy).

In Australia, as in similar countries, most people think of greyhounds as racing dogs. Here in Spain though, they're hunters. And that has brought them the worst of luck.

The end of the hunting season (which is as I write this) is a dangerous time for galgos. They're abandoned in the countryside in their thousands – an astounding 50,000 according to recent estimates from animal welfare groups.

This, believe it or not, is better than it used to be. Not long ago, hunters would generally lynch their unwanted dogs (shooting them was not popular as it was considered a waste of a bullet).

There are organisations here dedicated solely to the welfare of galgos. They, along with general animal welfare groups, work very hard to get the hunters to, at the very least, bring them their unwanted dogs at the end of the season.

We got Eddy from one of these associations - ANAA (Asociación Nacional Amigos de los Animales). He was just 2 months-old at the time, so thankfully he hadn’t suffered. His mother probably did however - she was a hunting-dog that been abandoned. Somewhere along the line she got knocked-up and was found by passers-by suckling Eddy and his sister in a hole by the side of a road just outside Madrid.

That was a stroke of luck for all concerned: Eddy came to us and his mother and sister are now living a very happy life in Germany. Interestingly, the Germans are responsible for rescuing a huge number of Spain's unwanted dogs.

Happily, galgos are becoming more and more commonplace in Spanish cities as pets – largely due to re-homing work of the animal welfare groups. The number of galgos I have seen in the city has grown exponentially in the years that we've been lucky enough to have Eddy.

In Madrid, about once a month, galgo groups meet in Madrid’s main city park, el Retiro, for a get-together and to parade the galgos they have in their care in need of new homes.

And galgos are brilliant at home - even in the flats in which most of us in Spanish cities live. All Eddy wants to do en casa is snooze, lap up a bit of affection and occasionally raid the garbage bin. Of course as a puppy, he wasn't quite so placid. He “ate" an entire sofa once. I'm not exaggerating.

Out and about he loves a run of course - although perhaps less than you might imagine. Throw in a bit of socialising at the local dog area and a good sniff about the place (embarrassingly, quite often in strangers' pockets and handbags in search of a treat), and that's pretty much it. A trip to the beach or the countryside will invoke a more-than-usual burst of energy - we took him up to the snow just the other day and he went crazy - but then he'll be pretty much be comatose for the next few hours.

Our local dog area (in Catalan: Area de Gossos). 
Not a bad backdrop, eh? 

The cruelty with which the hunters here treat their unwanted dogs is in stark contrast to the doting way my neighbours treat their animals. You’ll be amazed at how many people have dogs in the crowded Spanish cities. Around five dogs live in our block alone – which has just 15 flats to it.

And it’s not just the dog owners. When Eddy goes out for a walk there is a particular route that we must to follow, at his insistence, which takes in all the shopkeepers, city gardeners and street cleaners who will have a pat and treat for him when they see him. 

A new immigrant all over again (De nuevo, un nuevo inmigrante)...

Although I have lived in Spain for almost seven years, I'm suddenly a new immigrant all over again. You see I've just moved from Madrid to Barcelona.

Barcelona was the very first place I ever visited in Spain. Like so many visitors I fell in love immediately. What's not to love? Beach, mountains, astounding architecture, wide boulevards, tiny medieval streets, art, culture, style... I said back then that I was going to live here. Then I discovered Madrid, but that's a story for another day.

I'm a little ashamed to say that on my first visit to Barcelona I didn't know they spoke their own language here - Catalan. I didn't speak Spanish in those days, so I didn't notice that I wasn't being spoken to in that language! I do remember being confused by the fact that some Pans & Co (a fast-food company that in those days only sold filled crusty bread rolls, but now has added fries and burger-like items to their menu, I imagine to compete with the likes of Burger King and McDonalds) called the very same rolls different names depending on which restaurant you went into (some, you see, had their menu boards in Catalan and others in Spanish).

Now that I do speak Spanish, I can't believe that I couldn't hear the difference between the two languages. Catalan seems to me to be a mix of Spanish, French and Italian words, spoken with a bit of a Portuguese accent (I've probably just managed to offend all Catalans and Portuguese with that sweeping and superficial statement, sorry folks).

On top of the official language of Spain - Castellano (what we all know as Spanish), there are actually four co-official languages in the country: Catalan (Catalá - variations of which they speak in the Balearic Islands and Valencia), Galician (Gallego), Basque (Vasco or in Basque, Euskera) and Aranés (which they speak in a small region in the north-west of Cataluña). Where as all the others have, to vary degrees, commonalities, Euskera is a completely different language, of which no one really knows it's origins, although there are a number of theories.

In the days of the dictator Franco, Castellano was the only official language and in the early years of the dictatorship it was, strictly speaking, discouraged or even forbidden (depending on the language) to speak anything but Casetellano outside of the home. These days, kids are taught at school in their own language and here in Catalonia, there are Catalan-only TV stations and many letters and utility bills come solely in Catalan.

Needless to say, to a certain degree I'm reliving the same problems of understanding the world around me as I did all those years ago when I moved to Madrid.

Of course, just about everyone, everywhere speaks Castellano. My friends in Madrid (where Castellano is the dominant language) like to tell me that people in Catalonia don't like to speak Spanish and can get a bit uppity when forced to, but I have to say that I've never met with any hostility when people have to speak it to me.

When I'm out and about, waking the dog, or in a shop, just about everyone will start speaking Catalan to me (or more often the dog), but will switch to Castellano immediately when it's obvious I don't understand or I respond in Spanish.

Those Madrid friends tell me that's because I'm so obviously a guiri  (another word for a foreigner, although perhaps a little derogatory) so they don't get offended, but I'm yet to be convinced...

Time flies (El tiempo vuela)...

With seven years in Spain fast approaching - which is bloody hard to believe - I've decided it's high-time that I write some of it down. 

Back when I first landed here, Spain was considered by many to be at the forefront of social progressiveness in the "Old Continent". This was thanks to its recent legalisation of gay marriage and adoption, the steps it was taking to tackle domestic violence and it's actions on the universal justice stage, amongst other advances.

To my extranjero's (foreigner's) eyes, it was unbelievably liberal. Madrid's gay Pride parade was one of Europe's biggest (and was basically a five day non-stop street party); at any other time, EVERYBODY seemed to be out and about at all hours eating, drinking and enjoying themselves and for goodness sake, hard-core porn was on free-to-air tele late at night and in full view at the news kiosks along Barcelona's famous Ramblas! (Although I guess this was just a bit too much as the porn disappeared from these places some years ago.)

I was astounded. Wasn't Spain still to celebrate just 30 years of democracy after 40 years of a right-wing dictatorship based on a system of government called "National Catholicism"?

I wouldn't say it was a complete illusion. 

But two big factors were playing an important role in my initial impression of Spain: 1) the year was 2006 and Spain was riding high on an economic boom fueled by a massive influx of European money and even bigger real estate bubble and 2) my extranjero's eyes and ears had not yet attuned themselves to that far less liberal side of the country that was ever-present, but perhaps muted somewhat by economic boom and the popularity of the very progressive government at the time. 

Also (and possibly rather importantly) I expect I arrived with a somewhat skewed impression of the country as I was (and still am) a fan of Pedro Almodóvar's films, with his outrageous characters and even more outrageous themes.

Now that boom has turned to bust (five long years of it), Europe has fervently embraced austerity, the government has changed to one with far less socially progressive views and the years have removed some of the rose tints from my extranjero's eyes, I'm seeing Spain from what I think is a far more realistic perspective. 

Don't get me wrong; I still think this is remarkable country and the Spanish amazing in their aptitude for putting things into perspective and getting on with the business of living - generally with an astounding positivity and, yes, fervour for fun.

But Spain is much more than just paella, parties and playa (beach) - although I must admit I've enjoyed my share of all three since I've lived here - and so in this space I want to write about all aspects of living in this country: the frivolous, the everyday, the social, the political, the good, the not-so-good and whatever might come in between. 

Of course though, always from the perspective of an extranjero.