Bon Dia, Catalunya

I haven't written for over a week because I was preoccupied with a writing project and because I wanted to write about our pending trip to Barcelona, and couldn't, because I didn't want to worry my mother about the referendum vote for Independence that took place yesterday, October 1.

But we're here now, and my mom found out about the vote (not from me) and was duly worried, though she shouldn't be. Rob and I are not frequenting the polling stations and steered clear of the squads of Guardia Civil (police from the Spanish capital of Madrid) that guarded the government buildings and schools all day yesterday. They're still present today, and the helicopters are still flying over Barcelona, which is the capital of Catalonia (or Catalunya in their own language), but the simmering tensions do nothing to dissuade the hordes of tourists thronging the streets, pursuing their holidays.

We can see the bright yellow and red striped flags of Catalonia hanging from balconies all over the exquisite buildings, occasionally placed with the blue triangle / white star combination that signals a desire for independence. Pastel banners with the word "Si" (yes for independence) offset the flags on the surface of many buildings and a few signs urging the vote are hidden in corners where they were not torn down.  This morning, our tour guide, A, asked us politely not to talk to her about politics because the events of yesterday were too close to her heart and she just could not speak of them.

The vote yesterday was complicated. The head of Catalonia wants to be independent from Spain, and a significant minority in the region agree with him. (The minority probably grew after yesterday's events).  This region has been occupied for over two thousand years, has a rich history, it's own culture and language, and a disproportionate share of the Spanish economy. It's understandable that the central government wants to hang on to Catalonia and it's incredible capital, Barcelona. Less understandable that Madrid's police felt the need to forcefully disrupt the vote by dragging civilians down steps by their hair, firing rubber bullets into peaceful crowds of would-be voters, and blocking polling places with vans and machine guns. Such was the hostility that squads of local police (Mossos) and firemen found themselves torn between the two sides, and in some cases chose to protect Catalan voters from the clubs of the Guardia Civil.

Up until forty years ago, Spain was under the thumb of dictator Francisco Franco. Today we saw a church that had been bombed by Mussolini's air force in 1938 - with Franco's permission the bombers used Barcelona for target practice. Under Franco, no region could speak it's own language, observe it's own culture, or discuss it's unique history in schools. And that epoch, as A noted today, was so recent as to be virtually "yesterday."  Since Franco's death, Catalonian schools teach Catalan, Spanish and English, and all residents are fluent in both Catalan and (Castilian) Spanish. The violent suppression of yesterday's votes must strike fear into the collective heart of the Catalan people, whose buildings and collective psyche are still scarred by the events of the Spanish Civil War, Franco's dictatorship and cultural suppression.

I don't know enough to take sides in the vote. I wanted so much to tell A that we supported her right to vote and wished for the best for her people, but my feelings are irrelevant.  I do know that violence rarely wins supporters among the oppressed, never wins hearts. My fervent hope is that the leaders of all countries, regions and unions - Spain, Catalonia, the EU, the United States - de-escalate their wars of words, their hype and their threats, and learn to communicate effectively and non-violently. This is the most beautiful city I have ever seen (and I promise to post more about tourist activities tomorrow), and violence has no place here, no place anywhere.