'Madrid, Madrid, Madrid'
Wall Street Journal
Date: 04/20/2004
Author: Eduardo Nolla
Is Professor Of Political Theory At Universidad San Pablo-Ceu, Madrid
"Madrid, Madrid, Madrid, the place in Spain where I was born," says this city's most famous chotis, a dance that became fashionable here in the 19th century.
It is not that likely. Today, 54% of Madrid's population was born somewhere else; at least 11% of the inhabitants are foreigners.
It was no surprise that the al Qaeda-related terrorist attacks on March 11 claimed, in addition to 144 Spaniards, the lives of 47 people from 14 different countries. Many of them had no resident's permit. An estimated 200,000 or more illegal aliens live in the region of Madrid.
In recent years, Madrid has become the transit point for thousands of South American, Arab and African immigrants, and the city feels the strain of adapting to a new wave of visitors. Madrid has always been Spain's largest melting pot and a hodgepodge of accents, races, cultures and customs.
No particular loyalty to an accent, language, culture, or ritual is required to live here. A madrileno is simply and plainly someone who lives, permanently or temporarily, in Madrid. The links that unite madrilenos tend to be universal and inclusive rather than local or exclusive. They spring from a feeling of shared estrangement and solidarity.
Suitably, the few distinctive elements of Madrid are borrowed from here, there and everywhere. The chotis is a Scottish dance. It can be performed with an organillo, a barrel organ of German origin. Typically, women dance the chotis wrapped in a Manila manton or shawl, which came to Spain from China via the Philippines. The well-known chotis, quoted at the beginning of this article, was written by Agustín Lara, a Mexican.
The origin of the city is most probably Arab, Mayrit or Magerit, meaning "mother of waters". The area has been known since Antiquity for the quality of its water and its beautiful skies. In 1085, a Christian soldier started its capture by climbing the ramparts of the Arab Magerit like a cat and citizens were nicknamed gatos -- cats -- from that day on. Today, this moniker is also fitting. Madrilenos are both hard workers and serious revelers and they hardly sleep. Traffic jams past midnight are not rare here.
Other things make Madrid unique.
It has, within the space of one mile, the world's largest collection of paintings that hang in the Prado, Reina Sofia and Thyssen museums. It has the most trees of any city in the world bar Tokyo. It has the only statue devoted to the devil. And although we are more than 340 kilometers from the sea, we have the world's second largest fish market with the largest variety of species sold.
We also have a beach. Visitors are puzzled to read road sings directing them to Madrid's beach, but that is the pet name given to a large sports complex with a huge swimming pool on the outskirts of the city.
But none of this worries the inhabitants much. They come and go and are too busy to banter much about a city that for many is only a temporary haven. Madrid is in essence, like New York, an open city. Its doors are never closed.
The Puerta del Sol, Madrid's political and historical heart, fittingly has had no gate or door for the last two centuries. The Puerta de Alcala's five open eyes have no leaves and bar no way. And Madrid's most recent skyline icon -- the two leaning towers of Puerta de Europa -- forms an unfinished archway that opens the city to the north.
Madrid has that higgledy-piggledy and frantic look proper to places full of liveliness and change. It has grown and still grows haphazardly and has followed none of the well-planned development of other cities in Spain.
It has also frequently suffered from death and war. On May 2, 1808, the mayor of Mostoles, a small town a few miles from Madrid, declared war against the French invaders. The population in Madrid revolted and was quashed by the French army. Around 3,000 people were left dead the day after. The town of Mostoles remained technically at war with France until the signing of a peace agreement on May 2, 1985!
Goya painted the execution of the rebels in the early hours of May 3. The painting hangs in the Prado, a few hundred yards from Atocha train station. It must have been shaken on March 11 by the explosions, as, too, must have Picasso's Guernica in the Reina Sofia.
During the Spanish Civil War, the front was stabilized in or near the city for most of the duration. Madrid suffered enormous damage and terrible reprisals from both sides, during and after the war. In the last three decades, the Basque terrorist group ETA has killed 121 people and wounded hundreds of others in Madrid.
Terrorism and death are not new to us. Neither are resistance, enduring solidarity, generosity or grief. Scores of ordinary people helped and transported the wounded on March 11. Two hundred cabs drove the families of the victims free of charge. Volunteer nurses, doctors and psychologists helped. Hotels offered free lodging. Funeral homes helped with the dead. Airlines gave away tickets and repatriated the corpses for free. Thousands donated blankets, food or blood. And had there been a need for organ transplants for any of the wounded, no better place exists than Madrid. Spain leads the world in organ donations.
A popular phrase coined in the sixties and used to promote the city said: "From Madrid to Heaven." Madrid is a passing station in many peoples' lives. They will keep on coming and going as they have done for centuries. Some will decide to stay, but 191 madrilenos lost their chance to choose a month ago.
One of the many thousands of messages dedicated to the victims of the terrorist attacks simply and defiantly reads: Me quedo, I'm staying.
Such is my city.
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