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BY TIFFANY LIAO

In print | Published February 26, 2009

For my third column, I have taken on the task of confirming or dispelling the most common stereotypes about Spain, with at best dubious authority and an alarmingly high dependence on anecdotal evidence. After holding a poll (read: lethargically posed G-Chat questions) to pinpoint these stereotypes, I narrowed them down to the Catholic conservatism of Spain, the importance of the family and the idea that Spaniards just eat a whole lot of jamón.

Keep in mind that these are all my opinions, based on my personal experiences, which in turn are seriously compromised by my inability to interact with human beings without spilling a drink down my pants (true story) or accidentally bumping somebody’s meal off the table with my butt (this one too).

A cross to bear: It is true that Spaniards overwhelmingly identify as Catholic. When I arrived at my Señora’s home, I considered my expectations confirmed. There were crucifixes coming out of the woodwork, including one particularly grim one right above my bed. (Not only am I convinced that his eyes follow me around the room, but it’s a little difficult to do things like clip my toenails or burp loudly without feeling the urge to whisper, “Sorry, Jesus!”).

But what I soon learned was that my Señora, like a large number of Spaniards, identifies as culturally Catholic instead of a practicing Catholic. She doesn’t attend church regularly, only trooping off to Mass during Easter and Christmas. The majority of Spaniards I’ve met explain that they are Catholic, but not religious. That’s not to say that the Catholic Church doesn’t exert great influence over current events. Most news articles I read mention the opinion of the Church along with that of the pundits.

However, I was surprised to find that Spain, despite the strong presence of the Church, is in many ways much more “liberal” than the U.S. For example, same-sex marriage has been legalized since 2005.

This incongruity especially comes up with sexual freedom. Spaniards aren’t necessarily more promiscuous than Americans; they are just more open about it. I know I’ve certainly had to resist covering my eyes more than a couple times in the discotecas or the bars. I’ve also found that Spaniards hold a more relaxed view toward monogamy. Most relationships are consensually open. As one madrileño explained to me, “How will I know I like her if I don’t see what else is out there?” Uh, I guess if you put it that way.

All in the family: Before coming to Madrid, I was advised to respect the privacy of the home and the intimacy of the family unit. In Spain, the home is strictly defined as an intimate family space and it is highly uncommon for friends to drop by for a movie or chat. Instead, Spaniards meet outside the home in a café or bar — which is where I assume they hold their Gossip Girl marathons. Privacy within the home, however, is practically non-existent.

Since housing is incredibly expensive in Spain, many Spaniards live at home often until they get married or even after. Considering that I practically ran across the country at a dead bolt when I turned 18, it took some cultural adjustment before I grew used to the notion of 30- and 40-year olds living at home.

Of course, the tight-knit home environment makes for some interesting situations for when hormonal couples want to do what they do. Essentially, the lack of privacy has resulted in the most blatant and graphic face-consuming PDA I’ve ever seen.

From the moment I get on the metro in the morning to when I walk home at night, I’m hemmed in on all sides by couples trying to lick each other’s esophagus. In public places with lots of nooks like the Retiro Park, immediate eye aversion from all possible necking places is crucial (Seriously? The swing set? Perverts.) in order to stave off any shrill giggling.

Jamón, jamón: This is one stereotype that seriously is not reinforced enough. Spain is truly the inner circle of hell for any vegetarians. The Spaniards take their ham seriously, prizing above all the expensive jamón iberíco, a type of ham made from the Iberian black pig that only eats acorns. Most of the famous Spanish dishes, such as cocido (meat, potato and chickpea stew) or callos (tripe), contain a quantity of meat roughly equivalent to three or four Babes. Spaniards are also a lot less finicky about the parts they eat, so I’ve gotten to sample some truly delicious pig hoof and pig ear.

At this point, my heart automatically begins constricting from overexertion every time I pass one of the giant legs of ham that hang from bar ceilings, ready to be served with melon or manchego cheese. Don’t tell me your mouths didn’t just fill up with saliva. No? Just me? All right then.

Not only do Spaniards eat a ton of meat, they’re damn good at cooking it, too. I’ve already come to expect my meat to fall off the bones into my piggy (pun intended, always) mouth. I have to admit, the lack of vegetables has gotten to me, even though I love me some meat, including and perhaps especially the helpless baby ones. But some days, I can barely lift my gout-weakened limbs to maneuver the lone sprig of green parsley towards my mouth in a desperate attempt at vitamins.

Tiffany is a junior. You can reach her at tliao1@swarthmore.edu.

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