Inconsequential

Spain is, in essence, like the rest of Western Europe. Lots of freedoms, well organised and safe. That doesn't mean it's hard to find things to complain about. People complain in France, in Norway and in the UK. It's dead easy to moan about Spain. On the macro scale watching the continual bickering and backbiting of national level politicians or the point scoring over laws that only paid up members of the KKK could be against in essence (anti rape or protecting animals) is so wearing. On the micro level small, everyday, things like the outrageous banking charges or the scandalous unreliability of official websites seems depressingly inevitable.

On a day to day level though I keep running into tiny things that make me grin from ear to ear. So, this week a bit of positivity and, with a bit of luck, a bit shorter too.

A Sunday morning, nothing planned, my partner busy with something in the house, too busy to come out to play. I popped over to have a look at the cypress tree maze at Onil. It was a nice enough as mazes go. I liked it. The maze was beside one of those places where there are picnic tables, merenderos. It was approaching lunch time so the public barbecues were in full swing. Kids ran around, playing, while their families unpacked food from cold boxes, unwrapped offerings in silver paper. The sun shone. I thought it was sweet.

I asked Google maps to take me home from Onil. It did that stupid thing that it does when it tells you to go South West, and, having no idea which direction is which you go North East. Instead of turning you around Google finds a route. I was taken on an 8 kilometre detour to end up about 200 metres from where I'd started. But the scenery was absolutely brilliant. Hills and pines and mountain passes and cyclists and walkers kitted out in full Decathlon even though they were treading tarmac. More grinning.

We ate with Spanish friends in Elche this last weekend. It's become my habit to take local products from Pinoso - sausage (think salami rather than Wall's bangers), olive oil, cheese, wine, cakes and pastries. This time it was a selection of the sliced sausages, some perusas (the melt in the mouth cakes often served with the sweet mistela wine) and a toña (a sort of sweet bread in a loaf sized loaf) and only one bottle of wine. We talked about the cakes and the sausage for at least 10 minutes before we drifted to the inevitable discussion about paella. What it should and shouldn't contain, which is the most authentic sort of paella and when does paella become rice and things? Jamie Oliver's crime of adding chorizo to something he dared to call paella was still fresh in the Spaniards minds even though it happened in 2016! It is simply outstanding how easy it is to have a conversation with Spaniards about food. Amusing too. 

We went to see a "pop group" called Pinpilinpussies at L'Escorxador. The band is two women; angry young women in the John Osborne sense. Angry about how women are treated and angry about the dominance of Madrid in Spanish life. They were very loud and the sound balance was completely off. I couldn't work out most of their English language lyrics nor their between song patter in Spanish. My partner didn't like the concert at all but I sort of did. I thought it was full of life, it reminded me of my outings to see punk bands in the mid seventies. I like the Escorxador as a venue. I thought seeing a band, who have a certain following, for 3€ per seat was incredible. I just love the easy and cheap access there is to culture in Spain.

For some reason there's some sort of thing about the month of Thursdays before Lent in Alicante. In Monóvar there are walks to celebrate the time honoured tradition of trudging into the countryside for a bit of an afternoon snack. In Aspe they too go out picnicking on the last Thursday before Lent and that has turned into a sort of community based musical review show - las Jiras. The Monóvar picnic was nothing special but I was glad I did it. The Jiras I enjoyed because it was full of that community continuity feeling that pervades so many Spanish events. I suspect that people I know would describe Las Jiras as a bunch of people singing badly in stupid fancy dress. I found it life affirming.

I have more, all from this year. Moors and Christians in Bocairent, Carnaval, the book club, talks by famous writers, the Med sparkling and free art galleries but I promised brevity.