Tag: European Union

And Then They Came For Me

vivaespanamovingtospain

Back in the summer of 2016 the world was going a little nuts. We all remember it. One sunny morning I was sat in my office in the US, when one of the smartest people I have ever worked with entered knocking on the door frame.

‘You saw it, didn’t you?’ she asked, leaning into the doorway as I was behind my desk.

I knew instantly what she was talking about. But we were likely the only two people in the entire building who took note of it.

‘Yes. I saw it.’ I told her, disgusted.

‘Can you believe it? Are they crazy?’ she asked me.

I just shook my head. ‘Lunacy. The world is losing its mind.’

And it was in 2016. Well, it still is. But now we all see it, right? Hmmm. Anyway. Back on that summer morning it was all about how Great Britain had voted to leave the EU. Somehow, Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson had wormed their way into the brains of otherwise relatively sane citizens in the UK, convincing them that they needed to leave the EU so they could go back to measuring things in Imperial gallons, pounds, cups and teaspoons, instead of metric litres and milliliters and grams like the rest of the world – except the US <she rolls her eyes>. WHAT!? This referendum was never supposed to pass! We all thought this was impossible, but then it happened. What now? What happens with the Good Friday Agreement with Ireland? Was anyone thinking of that? Breathe, Kelli. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

Other than the obvious geopolitical implications of this seismic diplomatic earthquake, did it really matter to me? The two passports I held wouldn’t be impacted by this in the slightest. The UK wasn’t fully in the EU anyway. Yes, they led the bloc on many matters, big and small, but they had never adopted the currency or the immigration flow. They were not in the Schengen zone. So the 90 day rule for me traveling there would still reign. Whatever. I had bigger fish to fry in my country who was about to elect a monster of its own. It would take years before I might care even a little bit about Brexit.

Inching Closer

In 2018 we moved to Spain. The British expats we knew in Spain were still debating the referendum to leave the EU two years after. And it was heated. This vote had torn families apart. It had destroyed long standing friendships. In other words, it was a nightmare. But I understood nightmares because we had the same with the MAGA thing in the US. My own family hosts a MAGA supporter who laughed at us all back then, scoffing at our fears and outrage of what could happen. And then he learned that the not-so-funny joke was on him.

My British friends had families who had to sell their houses here because of Brexit. The consequences were getting closer to us. It was sad. Of course, I mostly stayed out of these debates about Brexit. Yes, I thought anyone who voted for it should have an immediate MRI or CT scan of their brain, but I also understood how disinformation can worm it’s way into people’s subconscious. And how FB contributed to this outcome – in Britain and the US.

Living in Europe, we followed the news on the negotiated exit and the chaos of the UK government and ‘hard Brexit’. Burning it all down seemed to be a feature, not a bug. It was like watching a slow motion train crash. You could see it coming from a long way off, but no amount of shouting from the EU warning the Brits of impending disaster could stop their eventual self-inflicted wounds. <she shakes her head, yet again>

But, what did I care? Even after ‘Brexit’ finally happened in 2021, it didn’t really impact me. Except for things we ordered on Amazon. We stopped buying anything from the UK. It always took longer and sometimes it never arrived. There is a whole world to purchase from. Why the UK thought they were the only show in town was beyond me.

Wait What?!

So Brexit seemed like someone else’s problem. Until it was my problem. The rolling shit show of Brexit just keeps on giving. From afar, it might seem like Brexit already happened. But there you’d be wrong. The Brexit negotiated by the UK was more of a slow-rolling dumpster fire or a really bad divorce. Or a combo of both. They wanted to get rid of anything having to do with the EU, but it was more complicated than they thought. As a result, they cut off their nose to spite their face – as grandma used to say. And they insisted that all trading with the EU would be under their rules. Creating unprecedented bureaucracy, and that is saying something. Brits were ‘taking back control’ after all. And this meant friction at every turn. British companies wanting to import goods from the continent would find it had become so costly and cumbersome that the EU didnā€™t want to trade with them. This was supposed to mean that British farmers would make more money as their produce would be first to market. Except, the cost of producing food in the UK has skyrocketed since leaving the EU.

It turns out that growing tomatoes in an English winter doesn’t really work. Growing anything in winter in the UK is rather a stretch. And they wouldn’t have the workers from Eastern Europe to pick their crops anyway because they ditched free movement. Hmmm, it sounds like the US’s problem, too. But I digress. The Brits need produce grown by southern EU countries. But with their new ‘taking back control’ policies, importing tomatoes, and anything else perishable, isn’t profitable for EU growers. So the UK can’t get cheap EU fruit and veg or French cheeses like before. And there are a hundred other examples of how this just keeps getting worse.

The new mounting paperwork checks needed expensive new shiny IT systems. But the UK government implemented these policies and left Britain and the EU without the ability to process this ridiculous paperwork electronically. They branded the EU bullies, but they did it to themselves as the EU leadership’s jaws dropped at how insane it all was. The EU gave the UK all kinds of extensions, even when the UK government didn’t want them. But this year, the EU has implemented the asked for Brexit importation agreement. And now I can finally hop into this Brexit debate because the Brits have royally screwed me!

Throw The Book At Me

As most of the readers of this blog know, seven months of the year I stamp pilgrim passports at my gate for Pilgrims walking past on their way to Santiago de Compostela. And, as I am doing this I sell copies – a lot of copies – of my book, as well. It’s great! But I have to order those books from the publisher in the UK. That is where they are printed. And now? Do. Not. Get. Me. Started.

This weekend I was notified that my latest shipment of 500 books are stuck in customs because, unlike last year, I have to jump through paperwork HELL due to Brexit customs rules. Wait, What?! I’m not British. I didn’t vote for this stupid thing. But no. I reached out to the printer in the UK and they told me I now have to supply a mountain of paperwork to get my books. What half of these forms are for, I have no idea. I must write them a letter to tell them the story of what I am doing with these books – what?!? – and why they are vital for me to receive them. I have to explain that people, wait for it, read books? Not kidding. In a letter. As in ‘Dear Customs Person’. Seriously. Is this 1824, instead of 2024? What is the publishing industry in the UK going to be reduced to?

It’s taken weeks to get this far. I kept trying to track my shipment but it’s stuck in the UK. I reached out to the publisher and asked for help. They are trying to find a different printer in Italy so I never have to go through this again. Apparently, my situation of selling an English language book in Spain is somewhat unique. But still. Hopefully, I will never have to order books from the UK, ever again. But it makes me think. As voters, we sometimes just fly through our ballots. Often, we don’t do the math and extrapolate the far-reaching consequences of our vote – just ‘going with our guts’ or voting based on anger at some shadowy group or policy weā€™ve been whipped up about. Or itā€™s a ā€˜protest voteā€™ against rather than for something. But this vote in the UK, nearly seven years ago, in a country far from me at the time, is now impacting my business. And I’m mad as hell about it.

The UK used to be one of the business and financial centers of the world. But from where I sit they look like diminished fools. I’ve said it before, you can mess with me all day long, but if you mess with my money we’re going to have a problem. And these Brexit court jesters and their antics in the UK aren’t so financially funny anymore. Because now they’ve come for me and my wallet. And Iā€™m just not having it.

Warning! A Rant to Follow

vivaespanamovingtospain

‘People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.’

‘He who is without sin, cast the first stone.’

I’ve heard them all. And of course, they’re true. I’m not perfect. Far, very far from it. And since I’ve heard horror stories of ugly Americans, when traveling, we try to go out of our way to be culturally sensitive and respectful. Do I love everything about living here? No. I miss some stuff, and some of it’s doesn’t make sense to me. We choose to live in Spain because we like it here better than we did back in the US. Jeff reminded me the other day it was his idea, after all.

We’ve lived here nearly 8 months now and I’m fed up. ‘With the Spanish?’ you might ask. But my answer would be an emphatic ‘NOOOO.’ I’m fed up with British and the arrogance I witness, over hear and generally experience from these people every freaking day. It’s very clear many British Expats – or even holiday maker –Ā  is under the misapprehension that Imperialism is still an actual thing.

Now, as a caveat, we have some friends here who are Brits. But sometimes even they will say things that make me go ‘Hmmm’.

Today Jeff and I headed to the beach for our morning coffee. It’s been super stormy here and the beach was festooned with mostly locals running. And the waves were huge. The Med is usually pretty calm and flat. This morning it looked more like Manzanita – the small beach town in Oregon where we used to go in the summer when I was a kid. Big angry swells and crashing waves. We watched the Spanish Coast Guard perform a real rescue of a wind surfer.

I was wearing my Pendleton fisherman’s sweater. It wasn’t warm out. And then a flock of tourists came by. We knew they were tourists before we could hear them because they all had large red beach towels with the word ‘ENGLAND’ emblazoned across it hanging around their necks, like they were part of the same flock of red faced birds, to be observed from afar. Then one of them decided that he needed to take a wee and promptly relieved himself all over a stack of beach chairs where we rent loungers in the summer. To say we were actually pissed off is an understatement! How dare he? But we knew they dared – they’re English, and they told us so!

Recently, Brexit has been a large part of the convo around here. It’s become an obsession since so many British citizens live in Spain. They speculate about it, and rant and rave about their Prime Minister’s botched Brexit job. We aren’t ones to talk. with our own country in such a freaking mess right now, so we usually just listen.

‘Well, I just don’t see why we have to follow all those laws the EU would come up with. I mean we’re not all supposed to smoke in cafe’s now. It’s the law in EU and in Britain we follow the law. But you’ll notice in Spain they don’t. They just ignore what they don’t like. That’s why I voted to leave.’

My eyes narrowed.

‘You voted to leave the EU because Britain is following EU laws around smoking in outdoor cafe’s, and Spain isn’t?’

‘Well, yes.’

I was dumbfounded. ‘First off, you don’t smoke.’

‘I know.’ they said ‘but other people do.’

‘Yes .’ I said ‘But I don’t want to have to smoke other people’s cigarettes while I have a coffee. So it’s good Britain is enforcing it. And secondly, you live in Spain. And you want to stay here, with no guarantee that you’ll be able to after Brexit. So you voted against your own self interest, so that Brits you don’t live near can smoke in Britain, in outside in cafes?’

But the capper for us was over hearing a rowdy group of English (I’m hoping on holiday and not locals) in a cafe we frequent. Now my Spanish is not good. And after being away for a month it didn’t get better. But I do what I can and I muddle through. One thing I don’t do is shout louder in English when I encounter someone who doesn’t speak any of my native tongue. But this group of jolly, rather inebriated, assholes did just that. And when the waitress walked away they said something that is the cherry on the ethnocentric cake that seems all too common with those from the British Isles.

‘Spain would be so much better if there weren’t so many Spaniards.’ Loudly, and then they all laughed and agreed wholeheartedly that yes, indeed, it’s the Spanish that ruin Spain because they’re all lazy and they don’t speak English. We got the check and paid. While walking ever so close to their table to leave I said – not so much under my breath.

‘I disagree – I just think it’s all the fucking assholes who come here and forget to pack the manners Mummy tried, and failed, to teach them.’ And we left quickly before I was tackled by a guy who clearly played a game or two of rugby at school.

This week I saw the article about how Spain will surpass Japan in life expectancy by 2040. Yes, if you live in Spain you’ll live longer than all others in the world. It has the weather, A LOT less stress, and the food is a Mediterranean diet. The best for heart health and cancer prevention. And if you do get sick, the health care here is top notch. Believe me, I know. Next time, I want to hold that up to the British, who are ranting about the people of the country they are lucky enough to be allowed to enjoy by the grace of the Spanish government, and shout.

‘Your culinary contribution to the world was boiled meat! You didn’t discover the existence of garlic until 1975. Suck it!’

I used to be very quiet about telling anyone I was an American when traveling. Our reputation in the world being what it is. But now whenever someone asks me if I’m from Inglaterra I make sure to tell them NOOO! I AM NOT. There’s a part of me that is hoping that some of the English can’t come to Spain after Brexit. They can go back to the UK. You know how the old saying goes ‘England. Not like Spain at all, and without all those lazy Spaniards.’ Sounds like heaven to them. Wonder what their life expectancy in the UK will be in 2040. Oh wait! I won’t really care because I’ll be living in Spain.

OK – I’m done now.