Don't come to Madrid, it's too hot.
MadridIt's been very hot in Madrid these days, and the atmosphere is also very heated. It's best not to talk about politics with people, because they immediately get very nervous and start saying outrageous things, while they down their glass of chilled wine and the corresponding tapa of mussels, olives, squid, or tomato with tuna and onion. It's hard to find someone who will speak positively about Pedro Sánchez, but if you don't settle for the first bar tantrum, you'll eventually find someone who quietly acknowledges their socialist affiliation and their intention to remain loyal to their vote, no matter what happens in the coming months.
It must be admitted that veteran socialists are very long-suffering. The other day I spoke with Elena, who is over ninety, and she confessed her displeasure "with everything that's happening," without giving much detail, but very worried about the possibility that the current PSOE government has ended, or is about to end. "This Cerdán has really outdone us, and look, he was a friend of Pedro Sánchez," Elena lamented while waiting for her snack, a glass of milk and a portion of churros at the cafeteria she's been a customer at for many years, ever since she returned from France, where she worked for France. Elena is a cultured woman, with a touch of refinement, the result of having seen the world and learned other languages and customs.
"And what's she going to do now? She'll have to change her vote, if she's so angry," I said, to provoke her a little. "That's never a chance in her life. I'm a true socialist, and I've always seen better with my left eye. These Koldo, Ábalos, and Cerdán won't change my mind. There are thieves everywhere, but we have to hold our heads high and continue governing, to close the gap to the right and the far right." After the speech about beliefs, Elena stood up to leave, and a waitress tried to take her arm to escort her to the door. "Leave it, girl, leave it, there's no need; I can do it on my own," said the socialist grandmother, who was walking slowly but without a cane. "Don't worry, my daughter is coming to pick me up now. You know my people—and I don't know if she meant my family or my party family—are very supportive." I must tell you that an Elena of this type is not at all common in Madrid right now.
The most common attitudes, especially in the well-off neighborhoods, those inside the first ring road, the M-30—like Chamberí, Salamanca, Chamartín, or Retiro—are fiercely critical of the left in general and Pedro Sánchez in particular, if not of the ins. For the PSOE, right now, people like that grandmother, so faithful and delicate, are four-leaf clovers.
A little later, I met María Asunción, who works in the healthcare sector as a nurse. She's perhaps half Elena's age. She's very friendly and plump, always smiling, and wears her white work uniform with grace and pride. In her sector, which already suffers from all kinds of deficits, there's now a lot of fear. They've always been convinced that there's too much work and too little pay. And now they see another blow coming. "What are these political friends of yours saying? When are they going to kick Sánchez out once and for all? Now he's making this comedy about fighting with that animal Trump, but what he should be doing is coming clean. I don't believe it. I didn't know anything about the corruption in his party. It's the Koldo, Ábalos, and Cerdá PSOE. Let him not fool us. Who knows if he also got paid.
"Oh, María Asunción, aren't you going too far? You seem to be talking about an alien invasion," I asked her, to see if she'd tone it down. "Going too far, you say? You're really deluded. This whole fight with Trump is a smokescreen. We'll pay the 5% this madman is demanding. They pretend they won't accept it so people won't talk about what they're stealing, and now they're also granting amnesty to the separatists so they can stay in power. They're... the amnesty wasn't constitutional."
Vote for the PP?
I've let her vent, but I try to place her in the alternative hell situation she describes. "I see you've decided to vote for the PP," I tell her. And she gets even more pissed off. First, she looks at me incredulously, as if I were the naive one, and I hadn't understood, incapable of grasping the level of political degradation we've reached. "Vote for the PP, me? No, no way. They're the same thing. I don't trust the PP either. What do you think? I don't remember what they did, their corruption cases, their treasurer, that Bárcenas and his extra pay, and how they got kicked out for promising a cleanup? Because they're the same thing." "Girl, I don't recognize you. What will you vote for? Well, I can't imagine you supporting Podemos or Sumar; you're more moderate," I answer, just to see where she's going. And she opens her eyes wide, staring at me, as if she's about to make a grand revelation, as if she's about to let me in on her best-kept secret, the liberating conclusion she's come to after mulling over and over what should be done to find the shock the system needs.
"I'm telling you, I think, yes, yes, I think I won't be able to avoid it. I don't think so, I'm convinced that this time, this time, I, I, will vote, I will vote for Vox." I see she's so agitated that I say to her: "María Asunción, you look awful." "Yeah, yeah, awful, awful, maybe so, but enough of the immigration problem, and the insecurity, and the squatters. I'm fed up with them wasting my tax dollars creating all kinds of subsidies and protection for these groups. We have to put things in order once and for all." Luckily, she slowly moves away from me and walks down the street, which saves me from having to answer. I was thinking of saying to her: "You don't realize it, but you're already sounding almost like Donald Trump." But I love her, María Asunción, and I know she'll recover. And I've already warned you. Don't come to Madrid. And if you do, don't worry, be patient, this will all pass. But it's very, very hot right now.