I thought when I got to Spain that it would be a lot like Italy. In some ways it is, and but in many ways it is different. Spain has a more diverse ethnic community. Our area has Muslims from Turkey, North Africans, and South and Central Americans. In a way it makes me feel more at home as Canada is such a melting pot. In Italy it was fairly easy to pick out the Italians from the tourists and rarely was I ever mistaken for a local. But Spaniards do not really have a defined look. They are dark, they are fair, they are tall and slim, they are small and stocky. So everywhere we go here it is assumed you are Spanish and everyone speaks to us as we are locals. Often, I get a mix of French and Spanish spoken to me. Especially ‘Merci’. Flattered I assumed that I was being mistaken for a sophisticated Parisian, but it turns out that it is part of the Catalan tongue. Catalan was born from ‘vulgar’ latin and has influences of French and Italian. As long as I can get my beers and tapas ordered than it is all good.
Same-sex marriage has been legal here since July 3 2005, 17 days ahead of Canada. You can grow and smoke your own weed, but do not get caught selling it as Spain’s laws against trafficking are the most severe in Europe.
Wild Boar is king in Italy, in Spain, Pork rules with an iron trotter (term for the foot of the pig). The grocery stores have entire sections devoted to pork products. There are shops that only sell pork. You see rows and rows of cured legs of ham, trotter included. The best are from black Iberian pigs that are acorn fed and can fetch up to 200Euro or about 300CAD. Nothing else is wasted, they eat every bit of the pig even its snout. It has been said that pork became popular during the Inquisition to prove that one was as true Christian. And as Muslims were known to be big on bathing, the stinkier you were the more Christian you must be.
Driving here appears a bit saner than Italy, and definitely Turkey, but they do still lean on the horn. It is just not a continuous cacophony as it is in our previous travels. Scooters still rule here, but they are not obnoxious and do not have the habit of parking in the middle of the sidewalks.
But yet, Italy is still fervently Italian and I respect that as the south coast of Spain has become too touristy, catering to the, yes, dreaded UK tourists. [Author's Note: To all the lovely UK friends I have made, I know that this phenomenon has NOTHING to do with you!] Thus it has lost its Spanish identity in those areas. Both countries know how to enjoy life with their siestas and fiestas. The pace is easy to fall into. They do their living on park benches, at tables outside cafes, standing shoulder to shoulder with their neighbours at the bar. Everywhere the young and the old, children, parents, and grandparents, laugh, gossip, and debate on the streets. It makes me feel more alive being around it and with a twinge I realise we will be leaving all too soon.
Of all the things we North Americans could learn in our large homes with our large TVs and surround sound, all things we take for granted, it would be the sense of community that pervades every corner of these countries and makes me hunger to stay longer, to return, to never leave.
Thanksgiving Girona style