Viva l' Espana

When we first moved to France , it felt exciting to be living so close to the Spanish border. We made the most of the opportunities that gave us, with car trips to Barcelona , Figueras, Cadaques, and smaller coastal towns on the Costa Brava. We took a train as far as Cadiz, stopping off at Cordoba to visit its amazing Mesquita. We were also able to take a ferry from Barcelona to Majorca, where we stayed in a tiny casita in Soler. It was good to get to know a different culture.

We visited the house of Salvador Dali at Port Ligat , near Cadaques, and the museum which houses his work and mausoleum at Figueras.

We climbed up to an isolated monastery in the Pyrenees

Spanish markets were a delight.

This all felt very different from the time in 1976 when we first visited Northern Spain. Shortly after we married, we took a ferry to Santander with a small tent on the back of our bicycles, and camped as we cycled along the Costa Verde. People did not seem quite so welcoming then. Two incidents in particular made us feel unwelcome when members of the guardia civil angrily told us to move on. This was most unnerving. I was reminded of these events last Easter weekend when we welcomed some Spanish guests to our gîte. At first we were puzzled.

Two weeks ago we received a gite booking from a family in Tarragona, Spain. Shortly afterwards we had a call from a French lady who lives in our village, who explained that this booking actually came from members of her own family. But when they arrived , not a single person in three generations spoke any French. This was rather puzzling, but everything was soon made clear to us. One branch of their family had fled to France during the Spanish Civil War, which ended in 1939, while others remained in Spain. This was not uncommon at the time. Indeed, we have met a few people with Spanish sounding names in our region, who are now essentially French. Such is the nature of immigration as people become assimilated into their host country, and their children are born here. It is as well for us to remember this amidst the current hostility towards refugees.

As for the uncomfortable atmosphere that we experienced in 1976. General Franco did not die until 1975, in fact, shortly before our holiday there. An atmosphere of oppression still lingered. I am delighted to say that we have since found Spain to be a most welcoming and friendly place to visit.