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Friday, March 11, 2005 Today makes one year since the Madrid bombings, what the locals refer to as 11-M. The Spanish media has been all over it, of course, beginning last week, every outlet cranking out their chronology of the event, eyewitness accounts of the event, the events behind the event, etc. -- all of it intensifying day by passing day. If one is paying any attention to the media at all right now, it's difficult to avoid the quickening of this particular beat. Two mornings ago, Wednesday, when I stepped outside, the sound of low-flying helicopters dominated everything else, my eyes moving automatically to the sky. That particular sound being one of the ambient elements I remember as most characteristic of last March 11 and the days that followed*, it threw me back in time a little bit, causing, in combination with the media saturation re: the bombings**, a bit of genuine disorientation. This week the helicopters had to do with the multi-nation conference on terrorism that the current government has held here in Madrid this week, climaxing today with ceremonies in observance of the bombings and those affected by them. Meaning abundant coverage of visiting high-level types from around the western world, not to mention the Spanish royal family. In addition, Tuesday and Wednesday brought the elimination of the two Spanish teams who'd made the final eight of this year's Champion's League, Barcelona and Real Madrid, Madrid's implosion in particular causing a huge ruckus, it being the team that commonly gets called the best in the world. Real Madrid is the European fútbol version of the New York Yankees -- a club with deep pockets that hires marquee names (David Beckham, Zinedine Zidan, Ronaldo, Luis Figo -- collectively called 'los galácticos' by the local media), putting together units of amazing power, on paper anyway. And despite all that firepower, all that talent, skill and experience, Madrid -- like the Boston Red Sox for so many years -- has had, during my years here, a strong tendency to choke in big moments. I don't understand it, and it's seemed pretty clear in recent days that the players and club management don't understand it. They should have rolled right over Juventus, the Italian team they faced Wednesday night, but seemed to lack whatever was needed -- the chemistry, the will -- to focus and get it done (a failure local news wags have begun referring to as 'the suicide in Delle Alpi'). Beckham was pulled near the end of the second half, his face creased with unhappiness, frustration, anger. He said something afterwards about having two more years on his contract, that he hoped they'd be able to win some sort of title before he bolts. Used to be that Madrid would at least be a lock to take La Liga, the Spanish fútbol league. Now, with Ronaldinho firing up Barcelona, Madrid's a distant second, everyone seems resigned to the continuing slump. Resigned, and not happy about it. I have to confess, the sports drama comes as a relief from the intensity of the refocusing on 11-M -- not that the ripples from that event ever ceased during the intervening year. It's become one of the country's prime ongoing political footballs, a fact that at times has provoked quite a bit of anger, in particular from the group that represents those directly affected by the bombings. This week's anti-terrorism conference had its wrap-up today with a noontime ceremony in El Retiro, Madrid's version of Central Park, dedicating a small stand of trees -- 191 or 192, depending on which news outlet provides the figure***, the memorial called 'El Bosque de los Ausentes' (The Forest of the Missing) -- each one in memory of an individual who died in the bombings. A minute of silence was to be observed at noon around the city. I was just coming out of a cafetería, post-caffeine, heading across the street to today's language class and was struck by the people standing along the avenue, respecting the observance. Our instructor told us later that they were used to doing this kind of thing after many years of bombings committed by ETA. And with all that going on, the weather provided some counterweight in the form of the season's first truly springlike day. Tables and chairs magically appeared outside cafés and restaurants, winter coats came off, people strolled around parks enjoying sunlight and warm air. I spent a little time in el Parque del Oeste with a Spanish friend I hadn't seen in nearly a year, enjoying the feeling of life opening out that springtime brings. The days move on. It's likely that spring has not sidled in yet in any definitive way. Soon, though. *It's also, now that I think about it, one of the sounds I remember from a year previous when the Spanish government was dragging the country into the invasion of Iraq against the will of 90+% of the population -- the government meaning José María Aznar and el Partido Popular (no other political party joined them in supporting the invasion). Millions of people took to the streets in protest, and here in Madrid the sound of government helicopters circling slowly overhead became normal, something that never stopped feeling strange to me. **Though there's been overkill on a massive scale re: the anniversary, there have been little in the way of actual images from the event -- because, I'm told, the organization of victims from the bombings demanded that the media show restraint, followed by a request for same from Rodriguez Zapatero, the current president. ***This figure has fluctuated since the day of the bombings, rising to over 200 at one point. Finally, not too long after the event, the number of deceased was determined to be 192, a figure that remained constant until yesterday, when I saw the figure 191 in an article a friend sent me from the States about the observances here. Since then I've heard and seen both figures used by local print outlets. The discrepancy apparently has to do with whether or not the count includes the police officer killed in the explosion in the Madrid suburb of Leganes three weeks after the train bombings. Madrid, te quiero. rws 5:40 AM [+]
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