Feeling privileged (Me siento privilegiado)...

The Sydney Opera House

Being a Sydney boy, I’ve always felt privileged to hail from a city that can boast a building as wonderful, iconic and unique as the Sydney Opera House. I remember always doing my best to take the bridge rather than the tunnel as I crossed the harbour on the way to work each day, just to get a glimpse of it.

Of course during the last 15 years, I’ve only had the opportunity to lay eyes on ‎Jørn Utzon’s masterpiece once in a while and then only as a visitor to Sydney-town, which always left me feeling a little wanting – I suppose removed.

But now that I am a resident of Barcelona, that privileged feeling has returned.You see, I’m lucky enough to get to see Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Família church just about every day, usually as I walk the dog through the two parks on either side of it.

I’m not exactly sure if I’ve yet worked out just what grabs about it: it’s impressive bulk, that somehow makes it look tall and squat at the same time; the schizophrenia of the styles of the two main facades – the gothic and naturalist of the “Nativity” or the angular and austere of the “Passion” (it's probably a little controversial to say this, but the Passion is my favorite – there’s just too much on the Nativity side for me to take in); the wonderful ceramic “fruit-bowls” that adorn the sharp peaks of the buttress; the glimmering tiles that clad the spires, the lizards and snakes clinging to the outside walls of the radiating chapel; or the simple fact that just when you think you see a part of it that seems “cathedrally” conventional, you look again and see that it is anything but.

The Passion facade - my favourite

The "fruit bowls"

The glimmering towers

The lizards and snakes clinging to the walls

Not that everyone is a fan of the Sagrada Família. A very good friend of mine visiting from Madrid told me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t like anything about it. And others, perhaps more versed in art and architecture than him have labeled it vulgar, pretentious, a circus attraction, even “the most blatant mass of half-digested moderniste clichés”. Even Cataluña-loving George Orwell, having seen the building while he was fighting with the International Brigades during the Spanish Civil War, called it “one of the most hideous buildings in all the world”.

I do get why it is polarizing (I think my description above of what I like it is explanation enough of why others might not) but I have to say I fall firmly on the side of those who love it. And then there is the inside.

If you’re ever in Barcelona and tempted to be satisfied with viewing the Sagrada Família just from the outside, resist. Do yourself a favour, brave the crowds and go inside (book your entrance online so you won’t need to line up in a queue that sometimes just about wraps around the entire block).

A forest of geometric wonder

I only saw the inside for the first time a few months ago (it was still a building site when I first came to see it in 2000) and it made my jaw drop. The sheer height of the vaults (60 meters in parts), the imposing columns of sandstone, granite, basalt and porphyry, clearly reminiscent of a forest of giant trees complete with branches and the magnificent geometric detail of the ceiling are just some of the highlights for me.

I also love the back-story of the place: the important Modernista (Art Nouveau) outbuilding that was the school Gaudi built for the children of his workers; the way Gaudi captured the forms and flows of nature for his designs using shapes suspended with string and viewed in a mirror (you can clearly see the results of that in the design of the anterior); the fact that anarchists during the Spanish Civil War burned many of Gaudi’s designs and they had to be re-created via photographs and (later) computer-aided design; or, as an engineer friend of mine visiting from Australia explained to me not long ago, that Gaudi was so far ahead of his time that we’ve had to wait for engineering technology to catch up with some of his plans in order to actually build them!

So yes, I do feel very privileged to be able to enjoy this building every day, even if only for (or perhaps because of) the mundane reality that the dog needs to have a walk and do his business.  And I look forward to returning one day in or after 2026 to see it completed – although I imagine I’ll find it a little odd minus all the cranes that are the only way I’ve ever known it and that have become, for me, part of the building.

These days, for me at least, the cranes are part of the Sagrada Família

In the meantime, thanks to the wonder of computer animation, we can get a glimpse into that future. Check out the video below:

Culture shock: Conguitos (Golpe de culturas: conguitos)

Living somewhere you didn’t grow up, or even just visiting for that matter, you often notice little cultural differences: the way that people greet each other or speak on the phone, what you have to do to get a drink in a bar (in Spain this generally means yelling your order at the barman without waiting for eye contact – you’ll go thirsty otherwise) or even the hour to go out for a meal.

But sometimes a cultural difference will smack you in the face and leave you a little speechless - in "culture-shock". My little friend here is of this category (at least for me). He’s a conguito, or more precisely he’s the conguitos mascot.

Conguitos are a chocolate-coated peanut sweet that have been part of Spain’s confectionary culture since the 1960s.

If you hail from a land with anglosaxjón (Anglo-Saxon) roots and you’re of my generation (let’s just say that I remember the late 1970s quite well) you probably don’t need an explanation as to why I was a bit gob-smacked when I first laid eyes on a packet of conguitos.

For those of you who do need an explanation, a little of their history might help. Conguito bascally means “little Congolese” and they appeared on the market in Spain right around the time that The Congo got it’s independence from Belgium.

Need more? Well just remember that they’re little chocolate-coated sweets and their mascot has fat red lips, big white eyes and shiny dark skin… Bingo?

Can you imagine seeing a kids’ treat with branding like that on the shelves in Australia, the UK or the US? I can’t. They would have surely gone the way of Golliwogs and Black & White Mistrals long ago.

A conguitos stand in a local super (supermarket)

The interesting thing is that I don’t find Spain an overtly racist country – well perhaps with one big exception: the gitanos (Roma Gypsies) who are not treated well at all, like in much of Europe.

But in general there seems very little fear of other peoples here.  As in Australia or the UK, there is a constant flow of illegal immigrants and asylum seekers to Spanish shores. Here they come up from Africa. And despite the government’s best efforts to paint it as an invasion scenario, most Spaniards seem to just see it as a very sad situation, in stark contrast, I’m ashamed to say, to what seems to be the average Australian’s take on the asylum-seeker issue there.

In fact, here in Spain they are not called “illegal immigrants” or “boat people” or “asylum-seekers”, they are simply inmigrantes (immigrants) or inmigrantes en situación irregular (immigrants in an irregular situation) or simply sin papeles (people without papers).

So having said all that, could it be that we anglosaxjónes are simply overly PC? Well, yes we can be at times, but come on; how can anything that reduces a whole people down to a caricature be anything but racist?

Of course it’s racist. And for me, this is the racism inherent in conguitos. It's racism that people don’t think is racist because it’s not really meant to do harm. Like Golliwogs and Black & White Minstrels. And like those terrible scenes repeated over again in Spanish football matches when fans make monkey noises every time a black player from the opposing team touches the ball. To many Spaniards, this is just gamesmanship; friendly teasing of the opposition. 

To be fair, the “possibly” racist nature of the conguitos has been discussed here and the mascot was changed a few years ago to resemble more of a cartoon version of the sweet itself than a caricature of a Congolese (although, if you take a look at the old ad below,  I'm not sure I see a huge amount of difference).

Now if I’m honest, I can’t remember if the first time I noticed conguitos was before or after the packaging change, so I can’t say whether my attitude to the new conguitos brand is coloured by the old, but I’m afraid my anglosaxjón sensibilities just won’t let me get passed those big red lips, big white eyes and shiny dark skin.  

Some versions of the conguitos mascots (the World Cup even gets a look in)

Sorry Conguitos, you might be a tasty treat, but you still leave this extranjero’s jaw on the floor (and not from chewing).

Long live the King or the Republic? (¿Viva el Rey o la República?)...

Next Thursday Spain gets a new rey y reina (king and queen). The current king, Juan Carlos I has, after 39 years on the throne, decided to pass the crown onto his son Felipe as, according to him, it’s time for a new generation to take the lead.

The old and the new: King Juan Carlos 1 (l) and the soon to be Felipe VI. 

The unexpected announcement left Spain in quite a bit of shock at first.  There had been calls recently that it was time for don Juan Carlos to go (I’ll get into why that is in a bit), but no one really expected that he would.

But as the shock of the abdication subsided and talk has turned to the Succession, an old debate has re-ignited (to be fair it had never stopped smouldering): the Republic.

The republican debate comes from a whole different place to that in Australia or the UK. You see, before General Franco’s 40-year dictatorship, Spain already was a republic. King Juan Carlos’s grandfather (Alfonso XIII) had been kicked out in 1931 when the Second Republic was proclaimed. Franco’s coup in 1936 was against the Republic, and so for many a return to it is only right.

The flag of Spain during the Second Republic 1931-1939

What’s more, Juan Carlos was actually brought back to Spain by the dictator himself. Franco’s plan was that the young prince be groomed to succeed him as Head of State after he died. This actually did happen in the end, although not quite in the way that Franco was planning: a seamless continuation of the same dictatorial regime that he had maintained with an iron first over the previous 40 years.

Juan Carlos, seeing the writing on the wall, quickly and deftly set about putting the wheels into motion for a parliamentary democracy to take the place of the dictatorship, headed by a constitutional monarchy, of course, with him as king. And he took it to the people to decide in referendum.

It’s for this extremely important role in Spain’s transition to democracy (which even included defusing a military coup in which a group of Guarda Civil – Spain´s militarised police - entered the parliament, guns blazing in 1981) that Juan Carlos is so loved and respected. 

But that all happened 40 years ago, and for many republicans, the very success of the constitutional monarchy in bringing stability to Spain means that now, with Juan Carlos on the way out, the time is right for the people to decide once again on what form of State they should have.

A page from the Spanish Constitution of 1978, on display in Las Cortes (Spanish Parliament).

Also, and probably quite importantly, it really hasn’t been the best few years for the House of Bourbon; it has scored some spectacular own-goals of late (forgive me, the World Cup has just started and already seems to be rubbing off on me).

To start with, the King’s son-in-law has been busted siphoning off public money from his supposedly charitable foundation and it’s still not clear whether his wife, Juan Carlos’s daughter, the Infanta Elena, might end up on trial for the same.

This smell of corruption within the Familia Real (Royal Family) has led to an abrupt end to the unwritten rule amongst Spain’s media not to report on the private life of the monarch. As a result, amongst other things, rumours regarding not only the King’s, but even Queen Sofia’s supposed infidelities have been making headlines.

To add injury to insult (and yes I am deliberately reversing the expression) the King has been falling over a lot lately. Now there is nothing precisely new about that, he is quite prone to a tumble. But he had one too far a couple of years ago in Botswana that caused him a serious injury to his hip and an even worse injury to his image. Some say this episode more than any other was the beginning of the end for the King.

You see, it turned out that he was in the African nation on a rather hush-hush elephant hunting safari. Not only did this seem terribly 19^th century, but the €30 000 price tag for the adventure made him look seriously out of touch at a time when ordinary Spaniards were doing it so tough thanks to the brutal economic crisis.

As a result of this misadventure, and this time adding insult to injury, the King was unceremoniously dumped as patron of the Spanish branch of the World Wildlife Fund and don Juan Carlos made an unprecedented hospital bed apology for his actions.

Personally, this is why I’m quite fond of him (not the hunting of course, but the tumbles and the apology) – to me it makes him human and seemingly approachable. I like that he’s always hugging Spain’s sporting stars when they win on the world stage, that he’s not afraid to let rip with the odd undiplomatic quip when he gets annoyed (like when he told Venezuela’s late Hugo Chavez to “shut up” some years back) and that he talks about heading to the taller (workshop) when he’s off to hospital for one of his numerous hip operations.

I can’t imagine my Head of State, Queen Elizabeth II, doing any of this (the Duke of Edinburgh of course is prone to un-diplomatic outbursts, but always, in my opinion, in a much more pompous and superior manner).

But as an extanjero from the New World, it’s not really my place to get involved in Spain’s republican debate, so I’ll just be an interested bystander next Thursday during the coronation of King Felipe VI.

Having said that, with the republican debate in my own country seemingly stalled, for the foreseeable future I’ll no doubt be taking much enjoyment from watching Spain’s conservatives whip themselves into complete tizzies as the debate here continues, as I’m sure it will.

To the Polls! (¡a las urnas!)...

This week Europeans are being called to the polls to elect a new European Parliament. It’s already started in some countries like the UK, Ireland and Holland. Spain’s turn is this Sunday, and I’ll definitely be off to place my vote.

I’m afraid I’m not going to be in the majority, however. Here they’re predicting a turnout of only about 40-45% (probably even less in Madrid where I suspect many will be too busy recovering from celebrating or commiserating the results of the other big thing happening in Europe this weekend - the final of the European Champions League - to get around to voting. You see, quite amazingly, it is being fought out by two Madrid teams: Real Madrid and Atlético de Madrid).

Football aside, people either don’t understand how the European Parliament and Commission effects them (according to recent media reports, 7 out of 10 Spaniards can’t tell you who the President of the European Commission is), are too tired to be bothered after all these years of crisis, or just don’t have any faith in politicians any more. I imagine it’s probably it’s a mix of all three.

And it’d be no wonder if the Spanish don’t quite understand the importance of these elections - there has been very little about Europe in local campaigning at all, at least from the two main parties.

The Socialists have spent most of the time complaining about some (very) machista (chauvinistic) comments made by the head of the conservative ticket and the conservatives (the Partido Popular) have spent almost all of their time rattling on about the herencia recibida (the shocking state of the economy that they inherited from the Socialists at the last Spanish general election) two years ago!

"Change Europe, Stop Rajoy."
The Catalan Socialist's very local slogan (Rajoy is Spain´s Prime Minister). 

The polls suggest that the conservatives will win Europe again. This is pretty interesting as it goes against what has been happening in most of the general elections in member states over the last few years. Not in that the conservatives are going to win – much of Europe has gone to conservative parties in recent elections - but in the sense that in general elections during this long and crippling economic crisis, most incumbent governments have been kicked out. But in Europe the conservatives have been in power for the last ten years – throughout the entire length of the crisis.

"What's at risk is the future" from the Patrido Popular. In the context of their campaign,
a clear reference to the Socialist's performance in the previous Spanish government. 

Whoever wins Spain’s share of the 751 escaños (seats) in the European chamber, you can be guaranteed they’ll be pro-European. Despite the savagery of the government’s spending cuts, most of which have been dictated by Europe, Spain is still pro-Europe.

The same can’t be said for other countries in Europe. In the UK, Holland and France, the polls are predicting some big wins for anti immigration, anti-European, anti-just-about-everything parties who have hidden none of their desire to be in the European Parliament with the sole intention of destroying the EU from within.

I’m a huge fan of the European Union as an institution – although, I have to say, not the policies and direction that those currently in power are taking the continent (I’ve probably just given away who I’ll NOT be voting for this Sunday).

I’d be a massive hypocrite if I wasn’t pro EU. I’m living here thanks to it: my dad’s Italian citizenship gave me a European passport and hence the right to live and work in the UK and now here in Spain.

But for me it goes further than this selfish perspective. The European Union has brought together counties that only last century all but destroyed the continent TWICE through war, to work for a common good and a common goal and with that has come a peace not previously known here. To me, if you’ll allow me the indulgence, it’s an earth-bound uber-prelude to Star Trek’s United Federation of Planets.

That doesn’t mean that the EU is perfect, there is plenty wrong with it - you just have to look at its inept (and arguably quite undemocratic) response to the current financial crisis to see that. But I think it’s much better to have something there to improve than nothing at all (or something whittled down to irrelevance). That’s what makes the popularity of the anti-Europe parties such a worry to me. Not to mention their unconstrained nationalism and vitriolic rhetoric, which all feels very 1930s.

Three key faces from, in my opinion, the scary side of European politics:

(L to R) Marine Le Penn of France´s National Front, Nigel Farange of the UK Independence Party & Geert Wilders of Holland's Party for Freedom.

But now, to finish, back to selfish reasons for why I’m voting this year: I’m itching to play my part in the democratic process again. I haven’t been able to vote for a government in Australia for years now (I missed the deadline to re-register one year and that cost me my right to vote there until I return) and here in Spain, unlike in the UK, as an extranjero, I can’t vote in a general election. So voting in these, probably more important than ever, European elections is just the ticket. 

¡A las urnas!

The season kicks-off (Arranca la temporada)...

Well it seems that the season has kicked-off here in Barcelona and even though it’s early days, it is looking like our first verano (summer) here is going to be a good one.

Up 'till now, I wasn't so sure. Now I know it could almost be considered a sacrilege to say so, but I’ve got to admit to finding Barcelona a little dull our first months here. Friends reminded me that it was “winter after all”, but I suppose I had become accustomed to Madrid, whose streets are teeming (with locals) even during the cold months. I was starting to get a little worried.

It seems I needn’t have. With arrival of the first weekends of sun and warmth, Barcelona has started to fill with the air of excitement and expectation that comes with a summer by the sea.

It’s been so long since I have lived by the beach – 15 years for goodness sake – that I’d forgotten what a costal city was like. Really, it’s very similar to Sydney. Despite how good the winter weather actually is, compared to say London or even Madrid, winter is a time of hibernation for the locals. Then, as the days get longer and the sun starts to not only shine, but actually radiate heat, the winter dens are abandoned and all hell breaks loose.

Well, OK, I’m not as young as I used to be, so “all hell” is probably not going to “break loose” for me, but certainly the sangria, mojitos and caipirinhas have started to flow and helped to wash down some plentiful servings of paella and seafood at some of the fabulous chiringuitos (beachside restaurants and bars) here in Barcelona.

We’ve found ourselves at the Barceloneta a lot these last few weeks. This is downtown Barcelona’s beachside barrio (neighbourhood) that also gives its name to the beach there - although I’m not sure if many locals actually go there to swim as there are nicer beaches just a little further up and down the coast. 

The beach at the Barcelona is actually what’s left of a series of islands once off the coast, and the barrio built on land reclaimed from the sea that used to separate the two. On one side there is the old port and on the other the sea, so you actually feel like you’re surrounded by water.

Both the barrio and the beachfront are packed with bars and restaurants that fill up with tourists and locals alike. Some of the restaurants, especially on the main drag, look a little touristy to me (photo menu boards and over-eager waiters standing outside trying to hustle you in), so I’ve steered clear of them.  But we’ve found some good and fun places, and already whiled away some lovely long afternoons with friends there.

And it’s only May. Bring it on…

Holy police merit medal, Batman!

In the news this week there was a story that perfectly illustrates how interesting a place Spain can be at times… in a bonkers kind-of-way.

Spain’s Audencia Nacional (National Court), a high Spanish court that usually tries cases of terrorism, corruption, money laundering, organized crime, genocide and other serious matters, will decide whether the recent awarding of the National Police’s highest award, la medalla de oro al mérito policial (the Police Gold Order of Merit) to a certain recipient will stand or need to be withdrawn.

La medalla de oro al mérito policial. 
By Heralder [CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 
or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons] 

Not so bonkers so far, although perhaps a little odd that such an important court has been charged with the decision.

The case is before this court because a complaint was made by two secularist organisations against the awarding of the medal to the particular recipient, and the State Attorney, representing the government (it is the Minister of the Interior decides Police awards) refused to answer it.

Getting interesting, but still not bonkers yet.

So why is the award being questioned by the secularists? Well, the recipient is Nuestra Señora María Santísima del Amor (Our Lady Mary Most Holy of Love). A religious statue.

There you go. Bonkers.

According to the police and the Ministery, the Virgen (Virgin Mary) was awarded the medal because she shares with them values like dedication, alertness, solidarity and sacrifice.

In all fairness, the award is also for the cofradía (brotherhood) who looks after Nuestra Señora María Santísima del Amor and arranges her processions during the Semana Santa (Holy Week): La Real Excelentísima, Muy Ilustre y Venerable Cofradía de Culto y Procesión de NuestroPadre Jesús 'El Rico' y María Santísima del Amor  (The Royal, Highly Excellent, Very Illustrious and Venerable Brotherhood of Worship and Procession of Our Father Jesus “The Rich” and Our Lady Mary Most Holy of Love).

But it is she who is named as the actual recipient of the award.

Nuestra Señora María Santísima del Amor. Yes, she's a statue

To me, an extranjero from a predominately Anglican country, it does seem rather bonkers that in the 21^st the government would award such a high Police honour (or any honour for that matter) to a statue – religious or not.  But for some here, it moves beyond bonkers and towards the realms of the scary.

To start with the Interior Minister, Jorge Fernandez Diaz, is a man well known for his devout Catholic faith (he is a member of the powerful Catholic sect Opus Dei) and so here could be accused of allowing those beliefs to sway his Ministerial decision-making.

But it’s more that it could be seen as a further example of how Spain’s current government has seemingly been bringing Catholicism back to the fore in the two years it has been in power.

As part of the its education reforms, religious (Catholic) studies have been brought back to state schools as a subject creditable to a students final grades and the Bishops have been given full control over the syllabus and even selection of teachers (even though those teachers are still paid for by the state). Also, the government’s planned reform to the abortion law will turn what is now a free choice for all women up to 14 weeks of pregnancy to an option that is more restricted than it was 30 years ago; something many see as both the Justice Minister forcing his religious views (he’s another very religious man) onto everyone else and also as a pay-back to the Bishops for their support of the political party of the now government during the last elections.

Whether this is the Church clawing back some of the power it wielded so widely in Spain just 40 years ago, with the help of its political allies now in government, or just a very conservative government doing their very conservative best (with a few Ministers bonkers for their faith), will depend on who you speak to.

Regardless, on June 11, Nuestra Señora María Santísima del Amor will have her day in one of the most powerful courts in the land, to find out whether she gets to keep her Police Gold Order of Merit medal after all.  

St George & the dragon, the roses and the books (Sant Jordi y el dragón, las rosas y los libros)...

This Wednesday (April 23) was all about roses and books here in Cataluña. It was La Diada de Sant Jordi (St George´s Day). The day of love (hence the roses) and Catalan culture (the books).

If you’re anything like me, you might only connect Saint George with England. But he´s actually the patron saint of many places and has been an important part of Catalan identity since at least the 14^th century. The shimmering roof of Casa Batlló, one of Antoni Gaudí´s masterpieces on the Passeig de Gracia, actually represents the dragon from the legend of "Saint George and the Dragon".

Casa Batlló. The scaly, shimmering roof represents St George's dragon

Saint George and the Dragon

I was reminded that it was La Diada de Sant Jordi the moment I stepped outside my building as there was a little stall selling roses right there. Walking into the centre (my barrio is about a 15 minute stroll to Plaça Cataluña), I passed a rose stall on just about every corner (although I do have to say that some gave me the distinct impression that they may be flogging roses that had fallen off the back of a truck).

These roses I'm sure did NOT fall off the back of a truck...

But the real action was in town. Barcelona’s famous Rambla, along with The Rambla de Cataluña and the Passeig de Gracia were crammed with stall-after-stall, wrapped in Catalan flags (with varying degrees of love and care) and piled high with books or roses or both. And people. More people than I had ever seen on these streets – it took me half an hour to just walk a few blocks!

There was a very impressive number of book signings going on, a rose market in the Plaça de San Jaume and the beautiful Palace of the Generalitat (the Catalan government) was open to the public. In Plaça Cataluña, local Catalan-speaking TV stations were broadcasting live, along with Catalan radio and even Spain’s national broadcaster.

I eventually bought my rose from a stall set up by a local school. I saw others being run by bookstores and florists (obviously), clothes stores, toy stores (selling dragons, castles and Saint Georges), car dealerships, hotels, charities, animal welfare groups (including one of my favourites: SOS Greyhounds), LGBTI groups, political parties and, of course, the various Catalan independence groups.

Saint Jordi is not exactly a day for Catalan nationalism (that's La Diada Nacional de Cataluña on September 11), but with the current Catalan independence push, there was clearly an air of nationalism mixed in with all the roses and books. 

A referendum on Independence has been scheduled for the coming 9^th of November. The central government has branded the referendum illegal, pledging that it won’t go ahead, but the Generalitat (currently an interesting coalition of conservative and left-wing nationalist parties) is pushing on. And so the Independistas were out in force on Wednesday, collecting signatures in support of the referendum and pushing the "Si + Si" ("yes + yes") campaign for the two questions: "Do you want Catalonia to become a State?" and in case of an affirmative response, "Do you want this State to be independent?"

"Say what Spain may, Referendum!"

If the referendum goes ahead (and that is a big "if") and the "Si + Si" campaign wins, this might have been my first and last Diada de Sant Jordi as a resident of Barcelona. You see, G and I are here as Italian citizens (my dad was Italian and G is Italian-Italian) and according to Spain and Europe, Cataluña will be kicked out of the EU if it chooses to go it alone, which could leave the huge number of resident ex-pats here from other EU countries in a bit of a limbo.

Best not to think about that for now and just smell the roses…