So Spain won the World Cup in soccer (which you should know already, unless you've been living under a rock) on Sunday evening, and we all went to Madrid to watch the game at the public viewing in La Plaza de Cibeles. It was amazing. Just like in Germany, its really uncommon to see the Spanish with such patriotism, but for very different reasons. There tends to be more pride for the autonomous community than for Spain, a result of years of oppression and cohesiveness forced upon them by Franco in the last century. Under his rule, only Spanish was allowed to be spoken while the languages and cultures of the different regions in Spain (specifically, the Basque country with Vasco, Cataluña with Catalan, and Galicia with Gallego). After Franco, everyone was so relieved to be able to support their specific heritage and culture that pride for their autonomous community was overwhelming. Meanwhile, they generally avoided pride for Spain as a whole as it reminded them of Franco, when they were forced to be "one spain" (the motto during his rule was "Una, Grande, Libre"---"One, Great, Free"). Spain has an incredibly interesting and complex history, demonstrated here, which is one of the main reasons I'm drawn to the country and its people.
During the final match, everyone forgot all about these formalities and for a change, they were one Spain again. It was incredible to witness something so rare, and I can't believe I was so luck to be here when they won their first World Cup. Before I left the States, I hoped I would be able to watch at least one game...never did I imagine it would come to this. If there is one thing I've experienced more of in Spain than anywhere else, its how to maneuver in HUGE crowds; La Plaza de Cibeles and Pamplona were crazy enough, but at the end of the match we had to leave in order to catch the last train back to Alcalá (or else be stuck in Madrid the whole night, which could have been amazing or awful, who's to say). Fighting through the crowd as everyone was trying to watch the team accept the trophy was nearly impossible. I've never been more squished in my entire life, but I led the group through it as best I could (there is just something about those situations where I have to be in control or I get verrrry frustrated). Even after we'd navigated our way through the mass of people, running against the grain to the train station proved to be just as difficult. Luckily we made it in time for the train---with only three minutes to spare.
I'll never forget the celebrations that night, or the next night, or the night after that. In fact, there is still some celebrating going on outside my window in Alcalá right now...
