Spanish views from a small town

There have been protests every day since the rapper Pablo Hasel has been imprisoned for speaking his mind. In many major Catalan cities, and even in Madrid, rioters have taken over the protests, trashing businesses, setting trash containers on fire, destroying bank offices, and even attacking journalists. In other words, raising holy hell. It makes no sense. I agree, the rapper shouldn't have been incarcerated for putting his opinion in his music. But, the government has declared it will change that law, to make sure freedom of speech is duly protected. Going violent won't change anything, and will turn people against them.  Those creating the violence are the self-declared anti-system groups. Yes, the system is rotten. Yes, it needs to be changed. Yes, it's very difficult because humans are selfish by nature. But destroying everything that is part of it won't get us anywhere. The system can't be changed or destroyed overnight by those methods. But, what is the ...

Yesterday, we went to the cemeteries, but it wasn't like any other year. The first one we went to, we went around the church, visiting distant cousins and great uncles, then, we went directly to where my grandmother, aunt, and uncle were. There we went around that section, and then we left without wandering any more. The rain was a mist at that point. At the second one, there was a burial in the newer section, with very few people, just the allowed. We avoided them and visited one of my grandfathers, then we left, having crossed paths with only one person we knew. The rain made it easier to leave, as it started raining more heavily at that moment, and the flowers were all drooped over, drops glistening on their petals. From there we went to our own parish, where we spent a little more time, visiting my parents, other cousins and grandparents, and neighbors. Here, we saw one neighbor, and a few others to say hello to, but we didn't stop and chat. The rain was undecided, whether ...

Last night, a group of young people were drinking in town, glasses and bottles spread out around them. The police, who were doing a check to make sure bars and cafés were closing at one in the morning, noticed them. The two patrolmen went up to the young people and, after ordering them to stop drinking and go home, started asking for identification. One of them got all hussy, argued with the police, refused to do what they asked, smashed a glass on the ground, and set off. When the officers finally caught up to him, he wouldn't calm down, but tried to hit them. That was when twenty-five of the guy's friends showed up to help him.  The officers called for backup, but they were forced to use their batons and pepper sprays to defend themselves. The guy who originally stood up to them was cuffed and sent to the local jail cell, while two others were charged with offences under the Law of Citizen Protection. The others are being identified in other ways, but they'll be found.  O...

Fear of violence. Fear of being attacked, robbed, raped. I have n ot felt that mind-numbing panic. Not in the past twenty-five years, ever since I have lived here in Spain. Perhaps I have felt a slight unease at certain moments in Madrid, but I could have saved myself the second thought. I have felt that panic while a teenager in Boston. On some evenings, especially in the dark winter, I felt fear upon hearing footsteps be hind me. There was a reign of insecurity in the air almost thirty years ago. My mother had a gun pulled on her while riding the subway. She was with a fri end and ignored the guy standing next to her with the gun in the doorway. She was lucky. He and h is fri end were just jo king. My mother and I were also in a superma rket when guys with sawed-off shotguns held it up. Boston was violent then. I haven't been there in a long ti me, but I've heard it 's calmed down since. Still, violence is palpable in most American cities. But , why? There is no hist...