In these last two weeks I've lost count of the times I've heard the question: but how do those who live in countries where the weather is routinely bad manage it? By "bad weather" we Mediterranean people mean rain, grey skies, unpleasant wind, noisy days.
We are frustrated, grumpy, sad... but many of us choose to see the good: the full reservoirs, the cleaner cities, the pleasure of the evenings or the eves at home when it's raining outside.
But it turns out that those who are really angry are the tourists and expats who chose to come to Barcelona precisely for its good weather, the sun, and the vermouths on the terraces. They feel cheated. The social networks have been filled with complaints and reproaches, as if Barcelona had really agreed in some contract to offer clear skies and spring-like temperatures day in and day out.
On the other hand, these days we've learned that in Sweden—following in the footsteps of the British press—some media outlets are warning Nordic citizens that some areas are being pressured to unimaginable limits by overtourism and that, in many cases, local environmental organizations have made it clear that the...
We Catalans, and especially those from Barcelona, have never seen so clearly that we can die of success. The country has long relied on tourism, but along the way it has lost its identity, quality, and landscape. Just as the Balearic Islands lament not being able to swim in their coves, we feel increasingly displaced in our towns and cities.
Who knows if the combination of unfavorable weather and protests against mass tourism will end up bearing fruit next summer? We shouldn't be afraid of coming across as unwelcoming or unfriendly: we're trying to save the country; it's an argument that sensible people can understand. We love the landscape, the vitality of our cities, our heritage, and, above all, the language. I still remember how shocked we were, many years ago, because someone on a terrace on the Rambla de Figueres served us in French.
Nowadays, in Barcelona, I think you can make yourself understood in practically every language except Catalan. And yes, I know, we must make the effort to maintain Catalan, but it's tiring to campaign all day long, and it makes you feel extremely helpless to live through a violent situation over something as simple as having a coffee with milk or giving directions to a taxi driver.
Recently, the president of the Generalitat, Salvador Illa, on the occasion of the return of La Caixa to Catalonia, said: "When you do work and don't make a fuss, things eventually fall into place."
I have the feeling they want us like this: on track, without making a fuss, disappointed, tense, helpless. And on top of that, it's raining.
I started talking about the weather and I've finished here. It could be that, indeed, living in places where the sun rarely appears is very depressing. It's a matter of maintaining the faith that one day it will spread and we will have clear days again.
