Before I get into writing about my time in Spain, I have to thank everyone who helped me out before leaving, and came out to the going away party, or just made time to hang out before I left for 8 months. It’s a blessing to know I had supportive friends and family at home! Also, thanks to the generous going away gifts from everyone at the party, in one way or another they have come in handy! Also, getting time on the internet has been nothing short of a pain in the ass, so that’s why it’s taken so long to get this show on the road. But now I’ll plunge into the blogosphere by describing how the Spain general strike (“huelga general”) affected my travels.
I landed in Madrid Tuesday and then breezed through customs, picked up my god-awful luggage and took a cab into the city centre. The cabbie turned off the main drag on to a street about 10 feet wide and continued at a speed only a Madrileno cabbie can achieve on the narrow track. Shortly after, I arrived at my hostel. I entered a building with a brand new elevator and about an 800 year old wooden staircase. I chose the elevator. Then I checked into my hostel, and quickly turned on the news to see all the hubbub about the Spain general strike.
On the screen helpful graphics came along with the rapid Spanish that stated Metro trains were reducing 30% of their output, buses were somewhere around 50-40%,. Flights were a bit different – international flights were to be reduced by 40% and domestic flights were reduced by 10%. I thought, pfft, these sorts of things never affect me! I got a 9/10 chance for smooth sailing!
But kinda like the guy from Dumb and Dumber, the strike still had a chance... To cancel my flight that is.
I arose early to make by 9:30 am flight, 6 a.m. to be precise. A cabbie picked me up as arranged. Prior to going outside, the early news showed clashes between police and red-clad demonstrators at the city bus depot (like the TransLink bus parking lots at home). The news showed disgruntled marchers on Gran Via, one of Madrid’s main causeways. By the time I left there was nothing bothering traffic.
I got to Barajas (Madrid’s airport) very early for my domestic flight, 2.5 hours early. I noticed in my terminal my flight was not posted on the screens. At information I asked the fella what was up and he said, “Not to worry, it’s there man, this is the right terminal.”
This should have relieved me, but the guy was so freakin’ casual it bothered me. Finally, after using the public internet in Barajas, I couldn’t find any information about the strike affecting my flight. Well, I guess the muchacho updating flight information went on strike too. Unknowingly, I went to check my bags, and finally the straight-shooting non-striking Air Iberia lady told me all flights to Almeria were cancelled in the strike. So one 30 euro cab ride, one unhelpful concierge, one brutal website and a lot of confusion, I was yet again having troubles at a European airport (Frankfurt was a nightmare, too).
This time, however, I stored my bags overnight and took the metro back into town. After exiting the metro downtown, there was an unmistakable mark left by a strike: no sanitation services. The streets were filthy and parts smelled awful because it’s still 30 degrees and sunny in Spain. There was garbage all over the sidewalks and side streets. I’m not talking layers upon layers, but still, it was terrible. There were also die-hard red t-shirt wearing demonstrators patrolling the streets waving signs and singing and all the usual nonsense that comes with protesting actions already made by the government. It’s like arguing with the ref in sports, he’s not changing his mind! There’s no challenge flag to throw to have the government re-examine their choices.
Later that evening in Madrid’s freshly graffiti’d Plaza Mayor there was a huge demonstration where people were waving Franco-era flags and selling socialist literature, undoubtedly because they were against the austerity measures recently taken by the Spanish government about wages, pensions, and retirement ages, etc. So a sea of red was surrounded by a sea black, as black armoured cars and black-uniformed Guardia Civil monitored the tense scene. Brave passersby said things like, “fuck you assholes”, and “you pieces of shit” as they kept walking away from the cops, who I’m pretty sure aren’t happy about the wage cuts either. However, the demonstration was pretty peaceful as the police allowed the public it’s right to protest and the majority of people were very peaceful.
Anyways, that was the first city-wide strike with big protests I had ever seen, and it was pretty interesting overall. I got a “huelga general” t-shirt, and by Thursday public services were back and it was as if nothing happened...
PS - I did not see: any protestors damage anyone else’s property (aka a store), any pathetic excuses for humans covering their faces and wreaking havoc (G20, anyone?), or any smashed in store windows or things of that nature.
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