Ayuso is not from the PP
BarcelonaIsabel Díaz Ayuso's face showed from the moment she set foot in the gardens of the Pedralbes Palace to attend the 28th Conference of Presidents that she was in a political ambush planned down to the last detail by the evil masterminds of the Sanchismo. From the start, the one acting as host was Salvador Illa, a person so correct that not even Ayuso is capable of tickling him. Forced smile and gaze lost in the horizon, she knew she was the object of all eyes. And a photo that Miguel Ángel Rodríguez would surely have wanted to avoid.
The handshake with Illa is the prelude to the many that will come later with a long list of enemies. One of the things that is clearly seen at the summit is that Ayuso is quite alone when she leaves Madrid. It is not evident that she has a great relationship with any of the barons popular. The veteran Alfonso Fernández Mañueco is the only one who chats with her, while the Murcian Fernando López Miras shows photos to the Navarrese (and socialist) María Chivite amid great laughter and the Andalusian Juan Manuel Moreno Bonilla chats amicably with the Lehendakari, Imanol Pratales. The atmosphere is relaxed, and that makes Ayuso's discomfort even more noticeable. This image of institutional normality and good vibes With the Socialists, this is what the Madrid native wants to avoid at all costs. And no one in her party seems to be listening. They're fraternizing with the enemy right under her nose. Luckily, she confronts the Minister of Health, Mónica García, whom she accuses of calling her a "murderer" for the deaths in nursing homes during COVID. With this, she stakes her claim with respect to her colleagues.
Tensions rise again when Pedro Sánchez appears on the scene. The Spanish president skillfully uses King Felipe VI as a protective shield. The monarch makes way for him, and he takes his place. The handshake between Sánchez and Ayuso is extremely cold, calculated and shared by both. This is a relief for Ayuso, who can at least see firsthand that the animosity is mutual and that Sánchez isn't trying to be nice to her. The physical contact between the two is so icy that it's as if they're afraid of being electrocuted. Fortunately, nothing happens.
One in 17
Ayuso can't stand being just one of 17, and on top of that, having to accept that, protocolarily, the Basque Country and Catalonia occupy the top two spots by virtue of the date of approval of their respective Statutes. It's a reality check that shows that beyond the M-30, things are a little different. Her way of maintaining her share of the spotlight is by staging a childish protest against Catalan and Basque: when someone speaks either of these languages (Rueda only greets in Galician, a license permitted by the Puerta del Sol), she leaves the room. However, no party colleague supports her, so she is once again isolated, like a spoiled child who has to overact at all times.
Today, the summit itself is breath of fresh air for Sánchez, who needs to break the narrative fueled by Madrid that paints Spain as a kind of Bolivarian banana republic, precisely the week when it has seemed most like that with the shameful spectacle staged by Leire Díez and Víctor de Aldama.
She hopes to take revenge on Sunday, when the Madrid masses will acclaim her for what she is: Pedro Sánchez's nemesis, his kryptonite, and not a mere alternative like the insipid and colorless Alberto Núñez Feijóo.