Spangler in Spain

I just finished Anthony Beevor's The Battle for Spain, his revisited opus on the Spanish Civil War.  Although not his fault, it was slow reading at times, mostly during the political chapters.  There were so many different acronyms on each side that it got kind of confusing.

Be that all as it may, I love the country of Spain.  Having lived there some twenty-five years ago, I fell in love with the country, its people, the language and the culture.  I went to learn to speak Spanish better and came out, as the Spaniards called it, españolizado, or Spanish-ized. 

I was very fortunate in my travels in Spain.  Not only did I arrive some nine years after Franco's death, I moved into an hostal just a block away from the Cortes where two years before there was a coup attempt.  Spain was not yet a member of the European Union and therefore had more lax travel laws.  I was able to stay for nearly a year just crossing borders every six months and getting my passport stamped.  Add to that that Spain had just competed in the Los Angeles Olympics and won the silver medal in men's basketball to the United States three weeks prior to my arrival and, for once in my life, my timing was pretty darn good.

In the fifty weeks I spent there, I travelled the length and breadth of the country.  I lived in Madrid which, admittedly, wasn't as exciting as Barcelona, but it's centrally located and therefore easier for learning about the country.  I visited Barcelona a couple of times, together with Sevilla, Córdoba, Granada, Valencia, Toledo and Segovia.  But I got to see smaller hamlets like Pedraza, Cariño, Covadonga, El Escorial, Tossa de Mar and Santiago de Compostela as well.  I rode trains and buses throughout the country, living like a Spaniard.  I saw the Picos de Europa, the Costa Brava, la Alhambra, El Escorial, la Mezquita, the Mediterranean and the alleged Land's End.  I ate their food, learned their customs and saw their culture firsthand, and I fell in love.  Perhaps it wasn't at first sight, but it came quickly.

The purpose of my stay was to become fluent in Spanish, which I accomplished.  But I learned how to be a minority.  I learned how to fend for myself without a support network.  I learned to move within a society that I knew very little about.  I learned to make mistakes and recover from them.  I learned to adapt.  I learned so many things that I can't even list all of them.

Being younger, I also did some crazy things.  I look back and wonder whether I was out of my mind, but I remember the times, I remember the situations and I smile at the memories.  Getting in the middle of a crowd of unfamiliar people from different countries in Pamplona during the sanfermines, passing back and forth wine bottles, singing and calling agua, agua, at the people in balconies above us and then clapping when we were doused with buckets of water.  Sitting with an Irish freemason in Santillana de Mar drinking beers under a starlit sky while he tried to get me to join the masons.  Getting drunk in Oporto, Portugal, and having some Portuguese friends steal a giraffa for me.

Since my time there, I've read as many books in Spanish as I could get my hands on, taught Spanish whenever possible and watched stories about or set in Spain just to get my fix.  Although I'm a dual citizen holding Irish citizenship, and although I've visited Ireland and hold that country near and dear to my heart, if I were given the choice, I'd live in Spain in a heartbeat.  It's a lovely country, with incredible food, fantastic landscapes and awe-inspiring history.  I can't wait to return to Spain.

(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles