My Spanish Family

Pre-pandemic I was fortunate enough to call Zaragoza my home for nine months whilst teaching English in Spain’s fifth largest city. Not being a particularly well-known city - in my experience at least - Zaragoza fit the bill perfectly for me as a city in which I could experience a more authentic Spanish culture away from more touristic hotspots such as Barcelona or Madrid. I also hoped it would offer me an opportunity to study and practice the language. This final point was where I perhaps failed - through no fault of the city - as teaching English in a total-immersion style meant no Spanish was allowed in the classroom, plus the long hours meant most of my friends were my colleagues, fellow native-English speakers.

It was with one of those colleagues and friends, Sofie, that I was sat outside with listening to live music, surrounded by a vast array of food-trucks offering countless types of cuisines. We were at one of the many events throughout the city for the biggest celebration of the year - Pilares. There is a stereotype that Spanish people - and the rest of the Mediterranean - know how to enjoy life, through food, drink, siestas and, as in this case, fiestas. This stereotype is accurate. Pilares is a week long festival in honour of the Patron Saint of Zaragoza, the Virgen del Pilar; it is a week of dancing, music, food and drink, and very little work.

Whilst sat amongst the food trucks, drinking in both the atmosphere and some beers, we were approached by a group of older locals who asked to use the remaining space on our bench. We had been waiting for friends but with them already several hours late the bench was theirs to have.

Immediately they sought to strike up a conversation with the two foreigners at the table, not a particularly common sight in Zaragoza in fairness. My Spanish being almost non-existent at this point, and their English a little better but hindered by loud music and many beers, we were heavily reliant on the bi-lingual services of Sofie. Despite the language barrier we joined them not only for the many drinks but also they shared with us a variety of Spanish foods they had brought with them. We learned that whilst they were all from the area, what they all shared in common was the village of Lechago. (In Spain it is very common to have a second house outside of the city in a small village, in which you spend much of the summer and many weekends.)

The two whom we spoke to most of all were Luis and Raquel, both of whom wearing full traditional Aragonese dress for the occasion. Having met them just a couple of hours earlier they told us they were leaving the rest of the group for another party and asked if we would like to join them.

Without hesitation we followed them and a short taxi ride later two English teachers found themselves at what turned out to be a family gathering. We met cousins, nephews, nieces, grandparents and everyone in between - most of whom did not speak any English. Fortunately, by that point no language barrier was a match for the quantity of alcohol that had been drank and we happily merged into the family celebration until the early, unremembered hours of the morning. We stayed in touch with Luis and Raquel and met them for drinks on a couple of occasions in the following months, often with similar alcohol related consequences.

It was at Christmas that I felt I truly became a member of the family. Staying in Zaragoza over the holiday season for work I had no plans for Christmas day until I was honoured with the invitation to join Luis, Raquel and their three sons. After a Spanish Christmas of paella, Ambar (the local beer) and board games I felt genuinely blessed by their kindness.

And then, Carnival.

Like Pilares, Carnival is a huge event in Zaragoza. Adding to this the fact it was Luis’ birthday and a memorable - or unrememberable - night was guaranteed. I was invited to the village I had heard so much about, Lechago. Lechago is a truly tiny village with a population of perhaps fifty people, in the rare times everyone is there, and one bar. The advantage of this is that everybody knows everybody and there are no problems with simply walking into each other's houses.

One custom of Carnival is of course the costumes and this family took that responsibility seriously. Consequently, in the rural countryside of Spain I could be found waddling into the small local bar with my fellow troop of six penguins. A long night ahead ended in a local “club” in which you could find penguins dancing with hippies and clowns into the early hours of what could be considered a large garage.

My stay in Zaragoza was cut short by the pandemic, yet even when leaving on one-days notice the last person I saw was Luis. I am still in regular contact with the whole family. The family which were a huge part of my time in Spain. My Spanish family.

Posted: 12/04/2021

Written by: Tom Taylor (@tomtayloor)