Older Spain, full of gossip and innuendos far from the real world!

LIFE: Maybe just a little chilly, but always lifeless.

TODAY we are blessed by the civility and community spirit offered by so many foreigners

ARRIVING here so many years ago was just like stepping back into America near the turn of the century, 1895.

Today we are blessed by the civility and community spirit and endeavours offered by so many foreigners to help us arise above – what was. We have newspapers, theatre, poetry readings, painters, translators, caretakers for the elderly, and a hell of a lot more, lots of good restaurants, and rock bands on the weekend.

Well the early 70s pretty much lacked any remnant of civilisation or any nuance of culture. Life was hot, or maybe just a little chilly but always lifeless. A new stranger in town was a welcomed being as he brought news, real news from the outside and therefore became an instant novelty. 

Gossip was the main part of the communal diet. Whether the stories were true mattered not, they were entertaining. And diffused any of those possible day dreams. Because if you didn’t know whether it was true or not you could easily get a second or third opinion later in the day at the same coffee shop. 

You then could cross reference for witnesses or the mention of someone that you knew had enough dignity to squash that tale. Most of the early morning gossips were invented from boredom, jealousy or pure malice. 

You would think the latter was the most common but it wasn’t, as a Spaniard’s honour was more sacred than the church or the stars in the heavens. 

Bad things happened to the evil and they most certainly weren’t investigated. I remember once reading a newspaper back then that discussed the demerits of the corpse in question. 

Almost all the article concerned the historical and evil past doings of the man almost too numerous to list. Stabbed he was, some 26 times. The judge in pronouncing such a worrisome synopsis of the incident, concluded it was one of the worse suicides witnessed and authenticated by the courts. 

The man would be buried in a grave cut into the ground wherein the local dogs could easily piss on him for eternity. Well, the reverence and appreciation this declaration garnered was not just refreshing to the public, but also became a wind vane for future social guidance and public misfortunes. The bad would be punished, severely so, but in God’s own time. 

Time had its clock and it was the sun’s patterns. Other than that, not much new came in for a visit or poke about. If you wanted excitement you travelled to Mojacar village, that contained more characters than a Ringling Brother’s Circus. And they were there nightly without fail, strutting and fretting their moments for all to see. 

No one hid being a homosexual or nymphomaniac. It was truly a pleasure to roust about with them. All trapped in the same cosmic bubble. Going nowhere but making well good of the time before the dawn of the next sun.

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