La Matrona by Kate

I must admit, I was a bit apprehensive about meeting a Spanish midwife for the first time, having heard and read mixed reports about them. The rest of the medical profession I've encountered since lowering myself into uncertain waters of the pre-natal system in Madrid have tended to be brisk, brusque and professional and not exactly brimming over with what you might describe as bedside manner.

So Maite was a pleasant surprise. Brisk and professional, yes. And undeniably, a tad brusque at times (she castigated Theo and me for not being better at speaking and understanding Spanish by now - everyone else we meet has been highly complementary on our emerging linguistic abilities). But - and it's an important but - she has a sense of humour. Plus she wasn't afraid to speak a bit of English to us, which was very endearing as we floundered about trying to find the right words to ask for information on the hitherto more obscure aspects of giving birth in Madrid.

Best of all, she made it clear she was very much in favour of natural, active birth - she told me sternly it would require a lot of preparation and isn't for the faint-hearted, but seemed satisfied when I assured her I was already doing the yoga and relaxation practice to get ready. When we asked about ante natal classes (called pre-natal classes here) she shrugged and said she wasn't sure how useful I would find them as she would be speaking Spanish very quickly and I probably wouldn't understand anything. But she seemed willing to let me give them a try, although Theo was disappointed to learn that most of the classes aren't open to husbands and partners.

The other thing she told us, which was also reassuring, was that Hospital La Paz - our assigned hospital - has a policy of minimal medical intervention during the birth process and suggested that all being well, I should be able to try my hand at doing it naturally without major unwanted interference from the obstetrics team. A far cry from the days when Giles Tremlett's wife gave birth in the same hospital, as recounted in his excellent book, Ghosts of Spain. That book was responsible for grave doubts on my part about the business of having a child in a Spanish public hospital. Still, assuming that Maite is right, we'll go ahead and take the La Paz option, keeping fingers crossed that all will be as she says it should.

Ghosts of Spain

I just finished reading "Ghost of Spain" by Giles Tremlett, a British journalist who has spent some 20 years in Spain (thanks for the lend Pete). Its title, and the opening chapters, were inspired by the relatively recent phenomenon of the exhumation of Civil War mass graves, almost exclusively (thus far) containing those executed by Franco's supporters.

For the most part it made for an excellent and fascinating read, excepting the last few chapters which seemed as if they'd been tacked-on as an afterthought and dealing with Spain's indigenous ethnic minorities (Basques, Catalans and Galicians). While probably very interesting for those who know little about Spain (we had heard all the stories here - and more - before) the final chapters seemed to have little relevance to the starting premise of the book; Spain's silence about its recent past.

The silence is striking. During both our travels around the country and our residence in Madrid, it is notable just how absent any mention or memory of Spain's quasi-fascist past is. Franco only died in 1975 but compared to say, Germany or Hungary, reminders of his dictatorship are negligible. If you want to know why, well I suggest you read the book, although I will add one more conclusion, which Tremlett hints at but never explicitly makes.

Unlike Germany or Hungary, and other countries, Spain had been passing in an opposite trajectory in the 19th century. Instead of following the vogue for powerful, central, unifying governments found elsewhere in Western Europe at the time, Tremlett suggests that Spain was disintegrating, losing colonies instead of competing for them and racked internally by coups, revolutions and insurrections, ironically putting it on a par with its ancient rival, the Ottoman Empire. After such internal unrest, which continued right up to the outbreak of the civil war in 1936, Franco, for all his innumerable faults and harsh procesution of his opponents, at least provided stability and continuity for 35 years. So perhaps, while pleased to be well rid of him and his ilk, the reason why Spain is so silent about its recent past is because if the country admits to the terrible things committed during Franco's reign, it might be forced to admit to the one good thing as well. Given the current popularity of separist leaning parties in the Euskal Herria and Catalunya, it's one conclusion guaranteed to go down like a lead ballon.