[continued from last entry]
I mostly enjoy the influx of tourists. A city this large and sprawling can absorb waves of furriners without losing its basic feel and character. (Not my experience in Barcelona.) Even this excessively-popular barrio manages to hold its own against the onslaught, maybe because the mix of people here is already so colorful and the flow of natives passing through to party most nights of the week dilutes the seasonal tsunamis of guiris.
The mild weather brings out all kinds of individuals, including a fair sampling of self-talkers. One gent with tanned, leathery skin and Andean features passed me as I stepped out of a morning espresso joint, dressed in rugged traveling clothes, a bulging pack and bedroll strapped to his back, carrying a large walking staff -- mumbling to himself, too softly for me to be able to make it out. A teeny, elderly woman walked slowly along a sidewalk, wearing thick, grandmotherly high-heels and a neat cloth cold weather coat, complaining out loud in a tired voice about, well, everything apparently. Now and then cars with loudspeakers pass through the barrio going on about a candidate or political party, a different kind of self-talking -- not a conversation, an advertising monologue, often receiving shouted abuse in response.
Two weekends ago, on a lovely Saturday night, the sound of drums started up down the street from here. Loud, percussive, lots of drummers participating, cheers from bystanders erupting any time the playing reached a pause. I pulled on a jacket, went down to enjoy the show, and found out it was one more campaign event, this one staged by la Izquierda Unida (the United Left), one of the various small political parties strewn around Spain's political landscape. One I've had trouble taking seriously, almost entirely because of its leader/point person, Gaspar Llamazares. During my first year here, any time I happened across a clip of him or a bit about him in the media, he was invariably bitching about something, in a way that offered nothing constructive and portraying him (to me) as an unpleasant guy with little substance. By the end of that first year, I'd learned to ignore him. Part of the reason for the Socialist victory in the post-bombing elections in 2004 was due to many IU voters doing the same, casting their ballots for Zapatero and the Socialists instead.
The parade streamed past my building, lots of folks trailing behind, peace descending as the sound of drums receded with distance. I walked to one of the main drags with the thought of finding something to eat, found the parade out there, drums pounding, whistles being blown, cops holding traffic back until the parade turned off onto a side street and moved away. And that, thought I, was that. Found food, returned home, heard the sound of drums again, slowly realized that the parade was limited to this barrio and that they weren´t anywhere near running out of steam. For hours they tramped through the narrow streets, well past the point when their welcome had been worn out, finally calling it a night three or four hours after starting. A long enough time to grow real damn tiresome.
Two or three months back, the IU went through a bout of self-examination, briefly considering the idea of running a different candidate. A woman, someone who sounded interesting, someone who might present a fresh face and different energy. For some reason, the party wound up trashing that possibility, leaving Himself at the helm, making silly pronouncements from time to time. (Days before the election, he suggested that the Socialists seriously consider sharing power with the IU, maybe because el Partido Popular, the country's big right-wing party, was running such an intense, aggressive campaign. Llamazares produced a list of 25 conditions the Socialists would have to meet in order for the IU to agree to the alliance -- not a move likely to convince anyone take him seriously. And not surprisingly, the IU lost a huge amount of voters this time around, their seats in el Congreso de Diputados reduced from five to two. Since then, Llamazares has accepted 'the responsibility, but not the blame' for the beating they took at the polls. Ah, well.
[continued in following entry]
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Parking garage, Madrid:
España, te quiero
rws 12:18 PM [+]
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