WALKS IN HISTORY: Old Rota in ships' logs.

             I would like to introduce you to some views of Rota. To some old, really old, views of Rota. Many of our readers will surely have seen old photographs of Rota in bars and shops throughout town. It seems to be a common fétiche to decorate places with black-and-white photographs of a small, sleepy, sea-side and white-washed town; with a small fishing harbour and no military base separating it from El Puerto de Santamaría. I cannot help whenever I see one of these images to look and think “Where would my house be on that picture?”, other times I think “How would Rota have evolved without the Base?”. Some of these images show Rota in the seventies with the first high-raise buildings near La Costilla, others are even earlier.

            I, however, would like to go even further back in time, before the Base was built, before calle Calvario was laid down.To just after the town grew out of its walls. We are going to see the first known views of Rota. We are going back to 1665.

             That year, the Great Plague of London made its debut, while in the English -not yet British- colonies in America a municipal government was first installed in New York City and a second charter was issued by Charles II to the province of Carolina. That year a young English sailor by the name of Thomas Brown drew on his ship's log several sketches of the coastlines of southern Spain

and north Morocco. This vessel, probably HMS Montague was part of Admiral Jeremiah Smith's squadron, which visited Cádiz at the time. 

Rota as seen in 1665

            These sketches would show the view from, what mariners today call, the “bajo de los Asnos”; a sandbank about a mile south-west of the harbour. Easily identified are the town walls, the Castillo de Luna castle, the parish church Iglesia de la O, as well as the rock Manzanera in the foreground. You can still see that rock at low tide from la Costilla beach all year round. It is about half a mile from the shore, and many of Rota's boys talk of attempting to swim there and back in the summer. Of course, no-one that I know has even gotten around to doing it!

Rota as seen in 1678

            Another image that we can analise is from 1678, of a similar origin and is much more realistic. It is the same view we can enjoy today when we reach Rota by sea if we take the ferry from Cádiz... only that it is 330 years older! The old pier is visible on the left with some small boats, as so are the castle, the church and the old Convent of the Mercedaries; today's Mercado Público. The sketch includes a note in archaic English which reads: “Thus skeweth Rotta as you ride at Anchor in the Bay of Bulls.”

           So, where were these sketches found? They were parts of English ship's logs... so they were in London. José Antonio Calderón Quijano, as part of his studies on the fortifications of the Spanish Empire, spent many hours digging through old documents in several archives; amongst these were the Public Record Office and the British Museum. What most surprises me about these views is how little Rota's skyline seems to have changed since then! Only the higher buildings near la Costilla beach challenge the towers of the castle or the Torre de la Merced, but if viewed from the approach to Rota's harbour, or from the Picobarro clift they are not so easily seen as they are built on lower ground.

Note. Both sketches are to be found in the book “SPECVLVM ROTAE” by Francisco Ponce Cordones, 1980. A great book if you wish to know more about Rota's history. 

(Published in the Rota Coastline the 13th of March, 2014)

De banderas y balcones.

El Bahama en Trafagal regandose a la rendición

             "Señores; estén ustedes en la inteligencia de que esa bandera está clavada." Día 21 de octubre de 1805, al SE del cabo de Trafalgar. Con estas palabras dejaba claro el brigadier Dionisio Alcalá Galiano a la dotación del navío de 74 cañones Bahama, que la rendición estaba fuera de lugar en la próxima batalla contra la Royal Navy. Su proclama surtió efecto; tras varias horas de enconado combate, con el Brigadier muerto de un cañonazo, los Royal Marines consiguieron hacerse con el buque. Si bien no con la moral de los marinos españoles, que se sublevaron a la primera oportunidad -en dos ocasiones, contra el Minotaur y contra el Dreadnough- para mantener el mando de un cascarón desarbolado, durante nueve días a la deriva. El día 30 de octubre, 9 de brumario para los "aliados" franceses, el Bahama embarrancó en la barra de Sanlúcar; siendo los supervivientes rescatados por cuatro lanchas de pescadores.

              En momentos como ese pienso cuando, paseando por cualquier calle española, veo los balcones poblados de banderas. Banderas que vienen siendo colgadas para celebrar las victorias de la Selección española -la Roja- desde la Eurocopa '08, como si de banderas de algún club se tratara. Sin embargo, poco a poco, los españoles parecen haber liberado a la bandera de esa estúpida concepción de que sea patrimonio sólo de un partido político, de "fachas", o un invento de Franco. Las victorias deportivas parecen devolvernos el orgullo de la españolidad, y de la bandera, justo en el peor momento posible desde la visión política o económica.

               Con la clase política desprestigiada y la deuda del Estado por las nubes -al igual que en tiempos de Felipe III- nuestros tercios vuelven a ser temibles en los nuevos campos de batalla. Nuevos tercios como el del "marqués de Del Bosque", el "tercio de la Armada" con Nadal, el "tercio de la ÑBA" de los Gasol o el "tercio motorizado"de Alonso o Pedrosa.
               El sentimiento es el mismo. Ante la evidente derrota moral, política y económica, las victorias campales. Ante los recortes, la deuda, o el desinterés en la política, se celebran el Oro en Taekwondo o la Eurocopa.

               El genio ibérico tiene muchos fallos, pero una virtud radical. Nunca reconoce la derrota. Ya sea en la Plaça Catalunya soportando una carga de los Mossos, en La Línea de la Concepción gritando -trescientos años después- "¡Gibraltar español!"... o en Baler -Filipinas, 1898- reacios a aceptar que Manila ha caído y que Madrid lo ha reconocido, los ibéricos no aceptan la derrota.
           
              En muchos casos, esta actitud sólo trae consigo el sufrimiento y una agonía mas lenta. Los maquis fueron cazados como conejos por la Guardia Civil (1940); los liberales se vieron exiliados y perseguidos por el rey Felón -en España, 1823- y Miguel I -en Portugal, 1828- durante años, o el tercio viejo de Cartagena fue masacrado por el Duque de Angulema en Rocroi en 1643. Sin embargo en otras ocasiones, esa misma capacidad para no rendirse es la que trae la victoria.

Monumento a Blas de Lezo en Cartagena de Indias.

                Blas de Lezo podría haber rendido Cartagena de Indias a los ingleses, y ganó contra todo pronóstico en 1741.
                 Los portugueses, con la familia real huída al Brasil en 1808, resistieron detrás de la línea de Torres Vedras y expulsaron al mariscal Junot. En las Navas de Tolosa (1212), cuando todo parecía perdido, los reyes de Aragón, Castilla y Navarra lanzaron una carga -casi suicida- que deshizo las fuerzas almohades y obligó a An-Nasir a retirarse a Marruecos. En Londres, David Cal empezó la carrera el último, y acabó ganándonos una plata como un Real de a ocho.

Monumento a la libertad. Lisboa

            Y en cuanto a las banderas se refiere. Después de siete años de un gobierno empecinado en convencernos de que España ni siquiera es una nación; de que ser español está reñido obligatoriamente con ser catalán, vasco, andaluz, gallego o castellano; de que llevar una rojigualda es cosa de fachas. Después de todo eso, las banderas vuelven al Pueblo.

             Pero a un pueblo que se siente asediado. Asediado por la prima de riesgo, por los rescates, por la caída del consumo, por el paro, por la falta de confianza y por las quintas columnas de los recortes y la corrupción. Pero como ya hemos visto, el español asediado se crece; se abraza a su bandera porque es su pellejo, sus murallas morales. Se mira en las victorias deportivas, meras escaramuzas pero moralizantes que le hacen creer en que puede salirse de esta. Se hace fuerte teniendo fe en lo poco que tiene, en que la derrota le será impuesta, pero nunca aceptada. O como respondió un capitán español a Pedro de Alvarado, en plena batalla de Tucapel y rodeados de araucanos cabreados, ante la disyuntiva del qué hacer: "¡Que quiere vuestra señoría que hagamos si no que peleemos y muramos!". Ninguno huyó, ninguno pidió cuartel.

            Y así proliferan balcones donde las banderas españolas parecen clavadas hasta que la tramontana o el siroco las hacen jirones. Porque como dijo Maeztu cuando se dio cuenta de que los ingleses iban a hacerle cambiar, dadas las evidentes "ventajas" de ser británico:

"Me ha ocurrido que cuando la alabanza inglesa absorbía mi personalidad, alejándome de los vínculos espirituales que me ligan a la Patria, he abandonado Londres más que de prisa, para ir a España ¡No, no!; antes que nada, ¡soy español!"

¡Yo soy español, español, español!

(Escrito el 9 de agosto de 2012 al socaire de la victoria de la Roja en la Eurocopa.)

WALKS IN HISTORY: ¡Viva el Carnaval!

           Starting last Saturday, one of the most popular festivals in Rota's calendar kicked off: El Carnaval. Now, our Carnaval is not what most Americans would know as a carnival, it is rather more akin to the Mardi-Gras of New Orleans. Although it is a semi-Christian festivity, historians trace its roots back to Roman times and their Lupercalia, festivals based on drinking and fertility. In Rota, and the Bay of Cádiz, it is a great chance to have fun in the street with friends and strangers alike while dressed up or behind a mask, to eat, drink, dance and listen to choirs of singers. And all for almost nothing!

         To a modern-day reader this might come as a surprise, but Carnaval was for a long time to Spaniards the festival of liberty. Consider that Spain was for most of its recent history a deeply Catholic country, where many actions such as public displays of laughter, drinking, affection or nakedness were always looked upon with disapproval by society and the ever-present Church. Carnaval was historically a time, just before the beginning of Lent, where almost everything was permitted; a way of letting people have all the fun they could get before forty days of abstinence from meat, alcohol and sex in remembrance of the passion of Christ. To people subjected to this abstinence, Carnaval was the time to freely express themselves; to make satirical songs about the Government, the Church and Society, for gay men to dress up as women or the other way around, a time to attempt having and affair under the supposed protection of a mask or a disguise... Anything went!

          Over the centuries, our Carnaval has evolved its own distinctive forms which set it clearly apart from those of Venice or Río de Janeiro. I will not say one is better than the other, they are just different.

The main event of Rota's, and Cádiz's, Carnaval is the singing of the satirical choirs: “las chirigotas”. These groups write their own new songs every year making puns at anything the past year has made big news: Olympic games, Government, a TV series, some famous person's hard times... You name it! They usually pick a theme and dress accordingly to it, trying to make their music sound along with their theme. For example, one chirigota you could run into are “Los del Almirante” -”the Admiral's men”- and theme themselves as American sailors (although their uniforms are more French than American); many of the jokes they make are about how Spaniards deal with sailors stationed here, and how these sailors live here, their music is full of American themes including the Star-Spangled banner. This singing is so popular that there is even a local contest to decide which is the best chirigota in Rota, and the competition is though. For a non-Spanish speaker it might be hard to understand the singers, but the costumes are worth seeing, and many choirs are worth listening to even if only for the music's sake.

         These groups can be seen moving around the old part of town with their guitars and drums, ready to sing at a bar, or a stage, o maybe even a street corner if they feel that there is a willing public... And it is all for free. Of course they accept payment in the form of some beers, or maybe selling a CD with their songs, but they are not going to ask anyone to pay for the show. It is done for fun!

          You can find the brochure for the Carnival events in many businesses around town, but to sum it up I'll just say that the BIG partying begins on Saturday the 1st of March and goes on for a week. The main places to go are Calle Mina, Plazoleta Mina and Plaza de las Canteras, where most of the singers perform, and the large tent being installed in the parking lot at Calle Padre Capote. That tent becomes a makeshift disco were young and old alike meet dressed up, although it is usually hard to classify the older people there as “old” as they are as lively as the young! Entrance is of course free and a great time is to be had there with friends or strangers.

           Rota's Carnaval is just a small town thing. The big Carnaval is held across the Bay from here: in Cádiz. Cádiz is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the West with three thousand years of History, and at least five hundred of Carnaval. It developed its style from the mix of traditional medieval Catholic carnaval, the masquerades brought by merchants from Genoa that settled there in the XVI century onwards, and the different music that came with the trade with the Americas and Africa. This mix created a democratic Carnaval where anyone could dress up however they preferred, with no aristocratic balls like in Venice and where foreigners were more than welcomed to share in the fun in exchange for their own songs from home.

          Carnaval became central to the volksgeist of Cádiz, and was never interrupted; not even during the four-year-long siege that Napoleon's army put the city through in 1808-1812. An interruption did occur just after the Spanish Civil War in 1939. The dictatorship established after the war didn't look kindly on people with masks, on people not being good Catholics and most importantly of all on people thinking and speaking freely for themselves. Carnaval was outlawed and anyone trying to celebrate it were quickly put in jail for some time. Things began changing in 1947 after it became clear that the dictatorship could not erase Carnaval from existence, and to make matters worse, a huge explosion in the Cádiz naval yard levelled parts of the city. At last, Carnaval came back to life, but in August, not February, and named “Typical Cádiz Festivities”; all under strict Government control and censorship.

         The singing and the singing competition restarted. Many of the song writers found ways to disguise their satirical songs against the state, others didn't even try and were put in jail for their criticism... But eventually freedom prevailed, as it always does. With democracy Carnaval went back to February without censorship and the festival of liberty regained its freedom. Some songs of this period were quickly forgotten, whilst others became classics in Carnaval's history.

         “Pasodobles”, “tangos” and “cuplets” such as “Los duros antiguos”, “La gaditana”, “El vaporcito del Puerto”, “Me han dicho que el amarillo” or “Iba por Canalejas” have become songs that gaditanos everywhere know and sing at any chance, and new classics are in the making even as we speak...

         This year the singing contest is well underway -the Final being on Friday the 28th- with many songs criticising the economical crisis, Government, other singers and a new development: the Crown. Never before had so many songs talked about the King, or openly called for a new Spanish Republic. But these are all opinions, and are to be respected even if not shared, that is Carnaval: saying and doing what you want to, while respecting those around you, and accepting what they do even if you do not share it.

         So this coming week put on a costume, the more foolish-looking the better, get together with some friends or meet Spaniards that will be more that willing to share the fun with you, and hit the streets. Spend some time in Rota, but don't forget to visit Cádiz, and I assure you that soon you WILL be singing songs you did not know you liked in the middle of the street, having a great time and sharing a bottle of Manzanilla wine with those around you.

“¡Qué bonito está mi Cádiz,

que bonita es mi ciudad,

qué rebosa de alegría

cuando llega Carnaval!”

Published in the Rota Coastline, the 27th of february, 2014