Thou Shalt All Think the Same

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

One of the first things that drew me to Spain back in the nineties was a feeling that people generally minded their own business. Sure, they might comment, criticize or even ridicule those who wore socks with sandals, ate in the street or simply did things differently, but at least they let them do it. While the hyper-entrenched norms of society exerted an enormous pressure on people to fit in, non-conformists were mostly looked down upon, but not necessarily punished. If someone wanted to transform a lovely nineteenth century house in their village into a three story apartment monstrosity, well, if the law somehow let them do it, it was their choice to do so. The homogeneity of streets and entire Spanish villages have suffered enormously due to this, but if that’s the look the owner wants, well? Taste is after all a very personal thing. Unlike my native Canada, if young people wanted to sit in a square at eight in the afternoon and simply talk, albeit at that volume that only Spanish teenagers can produce, well it was a public space and the police wouldn’t show up to move them along, using that ever so Anglo-saxon concept of 'loitering'. Waiting on a platform for a train on a torrid August afternoon, there was always a vending machine that not only sold sugary syrupy death, but also ice cold Mahou. Once upon a time, a responsible adult could choose between Coca Cola or beer, now you no longer have the choice. We're forced to take the Coke because otherwise you might be hurting someone’s feelings. I might believe that climate change is a farce, that Puidgemont’s hairdresser is cutting-edge, that Trump’s hair is actually his own, that muzzles (mordazas) are meant for dogs, that man never landed on the moon, that the proposed Lithium mine might be a good thing for the city, that kings and queens are better left in fairy tales or that Coca Cola is disgusting. Laugh at me for all I care, even strongly disagree, but let me think it, please. If no physical or otherwise threat is being made or no outright lie is being said, let me think it and even say it. I can honestly now say that I have been visiting and now living in this country long enough to say that there are things about how this country used to be that I really miss. It makes me terribly sad to say, for fear of going to prison, that the emperor is indeed wearing clothes.