TRAVEL HUMOURS IN SPAIN.
(By Haj?i||ton J-yfe, Sp.e.cjM porres 'ppjidept in spain.)
Madrid, May 2
Spain and Russia are,the two most interesting countries left in. Europe for the traveller who enjoys the humour of life. They are so’different from the rest.
Where but in Spain, unless, indeed, in Russia,'' could this happen r An American jumps out of a train at. a small railway station. He is desperately thirsty. He- sees an old woman with ■ a basket of oranges. “ How much are they ?” “ They are five centimes, a half-penny, each. “ I’ll take the lot,,’’ the American saysa “ AJI of them?” echoes the old woman, “Oh, no, I cant sell them all. What should Ido theres|; of the day ?” Where, except very rarely in Paris, could you see in the streets'of a great city like Barcelona Hocks of goats being driven from door to door to he milked ? In all southern towns the tinkle of the. goat-bells is familiar. In Barcelona, too', I could show you a public letter-writer’s stand where men and women who cannot write for themselves goto have their letters written for them.
In Madrid 1 look out of my window on to one of the finest open squares in the-city. I see among the motors and electric street cars cax ts drown by huge, slow-moving oxen , strings of mules, boys and men riding on‘donkeys, flocks of littje black sheep, herds of woolly red pigs. The oddest mingling of old and ne w ! Spain is a count) y that offers so wide a variety of scenery, oF people, of food, of everything. As you travel you see all kinds of landscape. In the north the prevailing note is one of sombre reserve. In the south all is‘ colour "and gay,-laughing sunshine. The same difference marks off the Castilian, grave and proud, from the chattering, smiling, quicktempered Andalusjap, always ready to make ' friends, Then, if you are wise and eat the food of the people in preference to the imitation food wliich is served iu hotels, you find that many districts have their own special dishes. There is the Valencian “ paella,” for example, a sjfceyv of rice with meat and snails and shrimps, a most appetising mixture served in a wide pan taken /straight off the fire. Malaga has jts “ botjuerones,” fried anchovies, delicious. Cartagena smacks its lips over octopus. All through Spain the “ pHolier o,” or national stew, is good, with special flavours in different parts. THE PIG.
At the railway “ foil das ” (intis) a decent nieal is generally served and, if one is doing cross-country journeys, one-is grateful lor this. One of these foiidas. I know too well though. There is a junction, a sort of Crewe or Claphani Junction, through wjiich pass fjie trains irom all parts of Andalusia. Its name is Bobadilla. It is just a railway station plumped down in the open country. From Bobadilla I could not get away, I was always finding myself in its fouda, swallowing liasfy meals, Qne night I had to stay there. A coal truck off the Jine threw us late am) I missed my connection. I have slept in worse places. (No charge for using this as a testimonial.)
One afternoon I had to wait four horns at Bojbacfilia. I went for a walk, and I decided then that Spain was a more amusing country than most. I discovered a friendly little stream and followed its bank. Small boys looking after 'grazing horses eyed jne with suspicion. Then I met a friendly pig, who cheered me much. He was tied, as the custom is, by one of his hindlegs to a stake. Pigs always remind me of home. I mentioned this to some friends one day and astonished them greatly. But it is so. If I were allowed to do so by my wife, T should’set down my recreation in “ Who as “Breeding Tigs.”
I have, therefore, a special sympathy with this maligned animal. I said as much to the pig by the roadside, and he‘warmed to me at once. He showed no fear. He let me scratch his ear and grunf?d gratefully. I kno\y no other country where pigs are as' friendly* as this. Next I overtook two vanloads of gipsies. Whether they had decided to stop fpr the night or whether the sight of such a strange object as my*self made them pull up, I cannot tell. Anyway, they turned out by tfie roadside, lit their fire, and grouped themselves obligingly'’ round an old fellow who scraped the fiddle, just as'if they were' doing it for my special benefit, while troops of children, more by r far than you would have thought it possible to pack into the wans,, played ip the dust, dancing and roiiiing and cuffing one another with the grace and lithe activity of a litter ot fox-cubs. THE STOLEN BEEE. All who meet on the roads of
Spain offer kindly greeting. “ Vaya Usted con Dios,” is the usual form ' (“ God be with you ”)/ If you pass people who are eating they will always invite you, if only as, a formal courtesy, to share with them. I came to a bend of the stream where several-fishermen were trying their luck. I watched a few moments. Immediately they called put, “ Come and drink a glass of wine.” We talked fishing—at least I think \Ve talked fishing. I asked them, as best I could, about their catch, their bait, and so on. They answered volubly, all at once. They may have.fieeu talking politics for all I know. Anyhow, we parted great friends. So, when my train came, I had got through the'long .wait most fiaceea))ly. 1 felt no grudge agaiqst Bobadilla. I hoped even to pay it another visit. All the station folk knew me. The man who rings the bell for the "train to start begged me, with tears in his eyes, to returnThe starting of Spanish trains, by the way, requires a vast effort. First a handbell is rung, then a large bell is tolled. Than a shrill whistle is blown, to which the engine replies with a hoarse blast. Finally, there is combined waving and shouting by all the officials, amid which movement begins. Until the handbell has been rung no engine-driver may put on steam. At another junction, called Albacete, arrived a commercial traveller ope day with half an hour’s business to do in the town. The train was scheduled to stay only five minutes. He picked up the handbell, put it in his overcoat pocket, and went and did his business. At the station everyone was hunting for the precious bell, without which the" train could not start. The traveller came* back, slipped the bell into its place again, jumped into his compartment, and the journey was resumed.
Nobody much minded.' Nobody much minds ' anything- in Spain. What would annoy one .elsewhere under grey skies is turned to a joke by the radiance of blue and gold in tlie clear, exhilarating air. In such a climate peevishness is impossible. Foreigners in Spain wonder sometimes why the Spaniards put up with their system of government. There would have been a resolution long ago il it were not for the sun.
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Bibliographic details
Hokitika Guardian, 9 July 1917, Page 4
Word Count
1,200TRAVEL HUMOURS IN SPAIN. Hokitika Guardian, 9 July 1917, Page 4
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