One of the early strategies was to join the village Neighbourhood Association. We had some good times with the worthy citizens of Culebrón - a musical in Madrid, a couple of weekends in Benidorm and a day trip to Guadalest. There were also a couple of village meals each year - one just before the local fiestas, sitting out on the warm summer evenings under the pine trees by the social centre, and another in November inside the same building. After the November meal we had the Annual General Meeting. In my case, this meeting often involved large quantities of whisky, which were sometimes severely detrimental to my health. In drinking whisky and not some spirit with a mixer, I confirmed my foreigner status.
The emotions stirred by these events were often contradictory - it was great to be in among Spaniards doing something authentic but the thought of maintaining conversations, often for hours on end, and knowing what to do, and when, filled me with dread. I usually wondered if it might not be better to avoid Spain all together and stay at home with cheap booze and satellite telly?
Nearly two decades later, I'd say we are still a long way from being anything other than foreigners who live here. We're settled in, we're comfortable. We don't get confused by Spanish road junctions, we know to push past the crowds of people at the theatre door etc, etc. Nonetheless, to Spaniards, we are, first and foremost, Britons.
As with so many things nowadays I don't quite remember why we left the Neighbourhood Association. I paid the annual fee in 2017 but not for 2018. Not all the events that go on in the village have anything to do with the Neighbourhood Association. Some are organised through the village pedaneo/a (think village mayor or mayoress). The person to do this job is selected by Pinoso Town Hall. There may be community input but the pedaneo/a is not an elected post. My vague recollection is that the activities organised by the Association missed a beat, it seemed moribund, and any local activity was coming through the pedaneo/a. Covid added to the hiatus. Then in September of this year, Maggie joined in a chance conversation, outside our front gate, and found out that the Neighbourhood Association had been organising trips and meals without us! We rejoined and in October of this year just in time to join the coach outing to Cartagena which was a hoot.
A couple of Sundays ago it was a village meal followed by the AGM of the Association. I was mightily impressed how we were received; there were lots of big grins, lots of pumping handshakes, lots of firm hands on shoulders and double kissing. We arrived at vermouth time. We know how we like our vermouth. We were able to say so. We had at least three offers to sit alongside someone as we sat down to eat at the long trestle tables. We didn't need to ask what we were eating; we didn't find anything strange in what we were eating; we knew the process, we knew the drill, we asked for what we needed if it wasn't there. We joined the conversation; we had conversations - there was no need to smile and nod and pretend we understood when we didn't. We had views on the quality of the food; we opened bottles of drink without thinking we needed to ask permission. All very straightforward.
Set three Spaniards to talk, and you get at least four simultaneous conversations. Turn that into thirty or forty Spaniards, who have had a couple of drinks, who are friends, who still have unsaid things to share and it can get quite rowdy. That's how the AGM was. Only a few people keep up with the flow. Most take refuge in the safe havens of optional conversation. To be honest, while it's all very endearing, it's not good if you're actually interested in the meeting. I realised that some of what was being said made it patently clear that there were certain tensions in the village. Tensions which we had been half aware of but which, especially after the meeting, were explained to us in Cinemascope and full Technicolor.
I avoided the demon whisky. It was good to be back.
