It's not just the paella that's heated

Spaniards are not known for their reserved nature or their ability to keep their thoughts locked up.

Some of the country’s mainstream television channels hold fiery daytime debates about hot topics in the headlines and participants sure don’t hold any punches in making their feelings known.

For a Brit used to Question Time on a Thursday night, it can be difficult to understand these hectic, unorganised and anarchic shows. Whereas the BBC has a relaxed panel of media-trained politicians churning out pre-written speeches, a carefully arranged studio and a white haired, experienced television presenter calming down the audience, these Spanish shows are made up of numerous individuals dispersed around the studio; some stand, others sit on stools and others read newspapers. They interrupt, shout over each other and stamp their feet when they hear something they object to. At the same time, bustling bars have these programs on full volume as punters, beer in hand, try their best to get their views heard over those of the featured guests.

In fact, I’ve discovered that if a Spaniard has an opinion on something, and they usually have one about everything, they’ll tell you (which is great when you’re writing a blog on Spain). Ask a countryman here about politics, religion or history, and you should expect a tirade against somebody or something. As a Spanish student, I had seen and heard some evidence of this concept on television and radio before coming to this country.

Travelling home after a long day at work I decide to test this theory on a car full of colleagues. I ask about the local agricultural towns that house the pupils of the secondary school we work in and then listen in amazement as my three compañeros pick apart each other’s arguments about the ‘non-cultured’ peoples of the local farming towns for the entire forty minute journey back in to town. They clash over what type of image of the area they should be portraying to me, a foreigner who is still making their mind up about a new home.

I struggle to keep up with the pace of the conversation and I’m unsure whether I’ve encouraged a good debate to pass the time of the journey or whether I’ve provoked a genuine argument that has become between colleagues; with the tone of their voices it is difficult to tell. I have since come to understand that this is a normal conversation between friends in Spain. I catch “no, you listen to me ‘boy’” before another debate begins.

One colleague tells me about the local area of Huesca. She describes the scenery and the ancient history of the Moors defending their land from the Christians approaching from the nearby Pyrenees Mountains. She appears to be proud of what she has to tell me. But another, younger teacher has no qualms about telling his older counterpart that she is totally wrong about the idea that everyone in the area is proud of its history.

“We have a cathedral, we live in a fantastic place but nobody cares,” he says. “We don’t even care about our families anymore.” This is certainly not an image of Spain I had had in my head before coming.

View of Huesca from the City's cathedral. PHOTO: Murcianboy

We pull up outside my apartment and my colleagues quieten down and say goodbye for the day. I could see them continue their debate, fingers pointed, as they pull away. I had only wanted to know about the areas my students came from and instead had started a long debate between locals which, for the majority, I couldn’t understand.

This was my first day at work and my first week living in Huesca. I would soon come to realise that my combined commute of ninety minutes to and from work would feature regular lively debates between my outspoken work colleagues. I’ve already become used to the Spaniards’ way of talking to each other during discussions; I’ve had no choice but to get used to it living with two Spanish students.