Mar 2007
Exiled and X-filed
24/March/2007 12:40 .Echos of the Civil War
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Spain has on the surface enjoyed a stable democracy over the last thirty years as part of the new Europe. One could be forgiven for thinking that it has shared the same freedoms as those other member states. But there has always been something missing: The freedom to recall the past.
Loja this week celebrated its 3rd Jornada in the Recuperacion de la memoria historica. As reported on previous occasions when the Immortal Santiago Carillo, and later the infamous dog biter Ian Gibson spoke on this issue, the Teapotmonk was there to monitor their contributions. This 3rd meeting was centered on the role of the political exiles from 1936 onwards. Alfonso Guerra, ex-vice President of Spain for most of the 1980´s was to speak. A man famous for his description of the present president, Jose Luis Zapatero, as ¨Bambi¨.
But it wasn't to hear of Disney animals that such numbers had poured into the town hall this chilly March evening. Snows still covered the peaks of the Sierra Nevada, seen form the plains that surround the town and providing the rush of cold air that swept over the valley. Nevertheless, the Salon was packed with crowds standing in the hallway, straining to hear what he had to say.
It was not, he reminded us, the first time Spaniards had been forced into exile - in clear reference to the post 1492 expulsion of the Jews and the Arabs - but it was the most recent. Once the military rose in July 1936, many that lived in the Pais Vasco - an area that fell quickly to the insurgents - were forced across the border into France where they attempted to re-enter Spain via Catalunia, only to have to leave again when this area fell in 1939. After 3 years of fighting fascism in Spain, they were then faced by the challenge of fighting the same enemy again in the rest of Europe. And fight many did in the hope that at the end, with an Allied victory the troops would inevitably enter Spain and topple the Fascist Dictator in there home country. But such hopes lived on only in their dreams.
Upon entering France in 1939, what awaited the exiles there? Husbands were separated form wives and children, and moved to the beaches where intitally not even a tent was provided to sleep under. And this in the winter of 39. Such camps were known, even by the French, not as camps for refugees, but as concentration camps. Not just because of the scant living conditions, but because of what they may expect from a life there: Franco´s ministers travelled to Germany explicitly to negotiate with the Gestapo for the handing over from France of leading Republican exiles contained in such camps so that they could be returned to Spain, and immediately executed.
A quick tea-break: Such was the case with Luis Campanys, President of Cataluna. He was arrested in France by the Gestapo and handed over to Nationalist Spain in August 1940. He was then found guilty - according to Franco´s Law of Political Responsibility - and was killed by firing squad on the 15th October 1940. He refused to wear a blindfold and was, reputedly, shouting in defiance as the bullets hit him.
For this reason, said Guerra as he finished his speech, that we all owe an enormous debt to those exiles that chose to return to this country: Politically - because they were the direct line back to the Republic, the true lineage to the last real elected Republic of Spain. Culturally - because they came from Spains majestic artistic moment, when many of its greatest artists, writers and poets were forced to flee to to other lands. Morally - because they had fought and lived according to their principles, and not been tainted by the 40 years of dictatorship.
Alfonso was well received, perhaps even forgiven for the slant on Zapatero. He was given a standing ovation, and then the feared for moment arrived when the Alcade brought out the obligatory plaque. Alfonso, being a professional politician, expressed nothing but pleasure and surprise on receipt of the gift - unlike The Gibson who had scorned the token presentation - but that is the difference between a politician and a writer. One cannot live by sneering, whilst the other cannot live by smiling.
Watch: http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid234454000
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Only Mad dogs and Englishmen
20/March/2007 12:59 .Local life.Permalink
In the midday sun last week, only an Englishman and a mad dag could be seen in this semi-occupied quarter of the Casco Antiguo where its not only the houses that get abandoned.
Pit-bulls and rooftops definitely do not go together. I'm not sure what does go with a Pit-bull, other than muzzles, strong leads and preferably quarantine, but in this case it was just a rooftop: Not, I would have thought the natural habitat for a fighting dog, but there you have it. As house was abandoned and locked, entry was not possible.
What concerned me more than just its precarious position, was its physical state. Emaciated, was an understatement: exoskeletal would have been more accurate.
Still, it was alive if a little hungry. The problem remained as to how to rescue it at best, or feed it at least. An answer appeared just as the question formed. Carlos passed by on his way home as Chef in a local bar and just happened to be carrying a spare - recently removed - pigs foot.
Now, Carlos suffers from spondylitis of the neck and so couldn't look up to either see or throw the animal any food. As a vegetarian of more than 25yrs I didn't find it easy to rustle in that bag of offal and limbs to find the right size foot to hurl, but the situation called for extreme measures.
First up went the foot, and then Carlos insisted, what appeared to be the entire skin of some farm animal. I wasn't sure whether he thought I should feed the dog with it or clothe it.
And then it was gone. Like a guardian from the gates of hell, it had appeared from no-where and then descended back to the underworld leaving us mere mortals to just stare and wonder. Or in the case of Carlos having not seen the animal at all, to just wonder about mad dogs and Englishmen and whether he should have just carried on straight home to cook his feet.
Watch: Dogsville
Play: Diamond Dogs - Bowie
Read: The Hound of the Baskervilles
In search of the Perfect Tapa
13/March/2007 12:58 .Local life.Permalink
Feria de la Tapa - Loja. One to add to your digital calendar
Yet another food feria was celebrated over the weekend, and unlike some I have had the displeasure in attending, this was done at least with a little panache.
The idea is a simple one: Bring in business to the bars, stimulate and preserve the tapa tradition, publicise the town of Loja - and celebrate the arrival of spring.
To participate, you merely had to pick up the mini-guide to the participating bars that made up the tapa route, and from the Friday through to Sunday afternoon, make your way from one to the other with your passport in hand- getting it stamped at each establishment in which you imbibed.
If you collected a stamp from each bar, then you could make your way to the tent in Plaza Victoria and collect your Certificate from the Tapa Trail, printed out in your own name to keep and proudly display on your grandmothers kitchen wall - or wherever.
Now, I have to say that having lived in bigger cities in Spain, more touristic pueblos, and even one-mule towns, its often the smaller places that do these things the best. Sometimes a town hall can just throw money at a feria because they have it and, it just often lacks thought and originality. Then you have a town hall that has a limited budget and so has to think about cheap but creative solutions and comes up with some really great ideas.
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So if you really want to try out the tapa trail - try it any normal day of the week.
But if you want a weekend of mayhem and bustle, tasting morsels from the best of the bars in this surprising poniente pueblo, then the experience is a unique one.
Put in in your agenda for next year.