Deep in the heart of Barcelona's El Raval district lies a veritable time capsule, a watering hole that has witnessed nearly two centuries of history unfold within its walls. Bar Marsella, founded in 1820, stands proudly as the oldest bar in the Catalan capital, offering patrons a glimpse into a bygone era whilst serving up its infamous house speciality: absinthe.

As you step through the doors of Bar Marsella, you're immediately transported to another age. The décor, virtually untouched since its opening, speaks volumes of the bar's rich history. Chipped paint adorns the ceiling, cloudy mirrors line the walls, and a handful of ceiling fans struggle valiantly against the Mediterranean heat. The overall effect is one of charming dilapidation, a far cry from the polished establishments that populate much of modern Barcelona.

Behind glass shelves, rows of dusty wine bottles stand sentinel, many belonging to regular patrons who purchase their favourite tipple to enjoy on subsequent visits. Black-and-white photographs of the owner's family mingle with other curios, including a statue of Saint Martin, patron saint of drinkers—a fitting guardian for this temple of libations.

In its early days, Bar Marsella was situated in what was then a notorious neighbourhood. El Raval in the 19th century was a hotbed of organised crime, prostitution, and gambling. The bar's survival through these tumultuous times is a testament to its resilience and enduring appeal.

As the years passed, Bar Marsella became a magnet for artists, intellectuals, and bohemians. Its reputation grew, attracting some of the most celebrated figures of the 20th century. While it's unlikely they all visited simultaneously, the bar proudly claims Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway, and Salvador Dalí among its illustrious former patrons.

During the oppressive regime of Francisco Franco, Bar Marsella is said to have played host to clandestine meetings of dissidents and free-thinkers. A curious relic from this period remains: a sign prohibiting singing, a reminder of the strict controls once placed on public gatherings and expressions of freedom.

The Green Fairy's Lair

While Bar Marsella offers a variety of libations, it's best known for its absinthe. This potent, anise-flavoured spirit, often referred to as 'The Green Fairy', has long been associated with creativity, hallucinations, and the Parisian bohemian set of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Bar Marsella's homemade absinthe is served in the traditional manner: a sugar cube is placed on a slotted spoon atop a glass of the emerald liquor. Ice-cold water is then slowly dripped over the sugar, dissolving it into the absinthe below. As the water mingles with the spirit, it creates a cloudy, opalescent effect known as the 'louche'.

This ritual, performed countless times over the decades, connects modern-day visitors with the artists, writers, and revolutionaries who once sought inspiration—or perhaps oblivion—in the same drink, in the same location.

In 2013, Bar Marsella faced an existential threat. The building housing this historic establishment was slated for closure, potentially ending nearly two centuries of continuous operation. However, the bar's significance to the local community and its place in Barcelona's cultural landscape sparked a grassroots movement to save it.

Regulars, neighbours, and supporters from across the city rallied to protect what they saw as an irreplaceable piece of Barcelona's heritage. Their efforts paid off when the city council, recognising Bar Marsella's importance, stepped in to purchase the entire building. This intervention ensured that the bar could continue serving patrons for years to come, cementing its status as a local icon.

Today, Bar Marsella stands as a living museum, offering visitors a unique opportunity to step back in time whilst enjoying a drink. Its continued popularity is a testament to the enduring appeal of authenticity in an age of constant renewal and gentrification.

The bar's survival and thriving business model demonstrate that there's still a strong appetite for establishments that wear their history proudly. In a city known for its cutting-edge architecture and forward-thinking design, Bar Marsella provides a necessary counterpoint—a place where the past is not just remembered, but lived.

Visiting Bar Marsella

For those wishing to experience this slice of Barcelona's history firsthand, Bar Marsella is conveniently located between the Rambla del Raval and the famous Las Ramblas. The nearest metro station is Liceu.

The bar's opening hours reflect its nocturnal nature:

Tuesday to Thursday: 5 pm to 12 am

Friday and Saturday: 5 pm to 1:30 am

Sunday: 5 pm to 12 am

Closed on Mondays

Visitors should be prepared for a no-frills experience. The charm of Bar Marsella lies in its authenticity and history, not in modern comforts or elaborate cocktail menus. The absinthe, of course, is a must-try for those who've never sampled the infamous green spirit.

In a world of rapid change and constant modernisation, establishments like Bar Marsella become increasingly precious. It serves not only drinks but also as a portal to the past, allowing each visitor to feel a connection to the generations that came before.

Whether you're a history buff, an absinthe aficionado, or simply someone looking for a unique night out in Barcelona, Bar Marsella offers an experience unlike any other. Its survival against the odds—from neighbourhood transformations to political upheavals and near-closure—makes every visit feel like a small victory for preservation and tradition.

As you sip your drink in Bar Marsella, surrounded by the ghosts of artists, revolutionaries, and countless anonymous revellers, you become part of its ongoing story. In doing so, you help ensure that this remarkable piece of Barcelona's heritage continues to thrive, ready to welcome curious visitors for many years to come.

Have you ever considered how much power lies in a name? The recent renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America by the United States has ignited a debate about just that – the power of names to shape our understanding of the world, assert national identity, and even influence international relations. Let's delve into the heart of this debate, comparing the American renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the situation in Europe, where the Bay of Biscay is known by different names in different countries. By exploring these two cases, we can uncover the complexities surrounding the naming of shared geographical features and the delicate balance between national sovereignty and international cooperation.

The Gulf of Mexico

The Gulf of Mexico, the ninth-largest body of water in the world, holds a captivating history. Its shores, stretching 2,700 km along the southern coast of the United States, have witnessed the ebb and flow of civilisations, from the ancient Mayans, who likely called it "nahá" (great water), to the Aztecs, who referred to it as "Chalchiuhtlicueyecatl" (House of Chalchiuhtlicue, their deity of the seas). Spanish explorers, arriving in the 16th century, sought to claim this "gem" for Europe, initially dubbing it "Golfo de Nueva España" (Gulf of New Spain). Over time, it became colloquially known as the "Spanish sea" due to its use as a maritime route to Spain.

Despite this long and layered history, in 2025, President Donald Trump issued an executive order to rename the Gulf of Mexico the "Gulf of America". This move, officially enacted by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names, aimed to "restore names that honour American greatness". The impact was immediate, with Google Maps and Apple Maps swiftly updating their platforms to reflect the change for American users.

However, this seemingly simple act of renaming has stirred a tempest in a teapot. Mexico and Cuba, who share the Gulf with the United States, have rejected the new name. Furthermore, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea stipulates that a nation's authority over naming extends only to its territorial waters, which reach just 12 nautical miles from its coast. Beyond that, the waters are considered international, raising questions about the legitimacy and broader acceptance of the "Gulf of America." As some commentators have pointed out, this renaming may ultimately have limited practical implications, unlikely to be adopted by the international community or significantly alter how the Gulf is perceived globally.

Beyond the political implications, the Gulf of Mexico plays a crucial role in the ecological and economic landscape of the region. It is the origin point of the Gulf Stream, a powerful Atlantic current that influences the climate of the southeastern United States and even reaches the shores of Europe. However, the Gulf also faces environmental challenges, including a vast "dead zone" – an area of low oxygen that threatens marine life. Despite these challenges, the Gulf remains a vibrant ecosystem, teeming with diverse marine life, including over 40 species of sharks.

The renaming of the Gulf of Mexico raises fundamental questions about the relationship between a place and its name. Is it merely a label, or does it carry a deeper meaning, reflecting history, culture, and even national identity? To explore this further, let's turn our attention across the Atlantic to another gulf with a multifaceted identity – the Bay of Biscay.

The Bay of Biscay

In contrast to the politically charged renaming of the Gulf of Mexico, the Bay of Biscay, nestled on the Atlantic coast of southwestern Europe, presents a different narrative – a story of organically evolved names reflecting the region's rich cultural heritage.

In France, it is known as the Golfe de Gascogne, a name derived from the Gascons, a people with a distinct language and culture who have long inhabited southwestern France. In Spain, it is called the Golfo de Vizcaya, after the Basque province of Biscay, a historical centre of Basque culture. Adding another layer to this linguistic tapestry, the southern part of the bay, bordering the northern coast of Spain, is also known as the Cantabrian Sea.

This multiplicity of names is not a source of conflict but rather a testament to the historical interplay of cultures in this region. The Bay of Biscay has long been a crossroads of maritime activity, shaped by the seafaring traditions of the Basques, who were renowned whalers and navigators. The bay's English name, in fact, is thought to originate from the Basque districts of Biscay.

The Bay of Biscay is also known for its challenging sailing conditions, particularly during the winter months, when fierce storms and high waves have led to numerous shipwrecks throughout history. This has earned it the nickname "The Valley of Death" among sailors. Despite these dangers, the bay has been a vital maritime route, witnessing historical events like the Battle of the Bay of Biscay during World War II.

Beyond its human history, the Bay of Biscay is a unique ecological zone, a transition area between subtropical and boreal regimes, supporting a rich diversity of marine life.

The Bay of Biscay stands as a counterpoint to the Gulf of Mexico, illustrating how names can evolve organically, reflecting the cultural and historical nuances of a region. This raises the question: why do some places have multiple names while others become the subject of naming disputes? To delve deeper into this, let's explore the history and politics of naming waters.

The History and Politics of Naming Waters

The naming of bodies of water has a long and fascinating history, often intertwined with exploration, trade, and the assertion of power. Early civilisations named seas and oceans based on their location, characteristics, or mythological figures. For example, the Atlantic Ocean was named after the Titan Atlas from Greek mythology.

Over time, as maritime travel and trade expanded, the need for standardised names became apparent. International organisations like the International Hydrographic Organization (IHO) emerged to promote uniformity in nautical charts and publications. The IHO's publication "Limits of Oceans and Seas" (S-23) defines the boundaries and names of major water bodies, aiming to ensure consistency across different languages and cultures.

However, despite these efforts, naming disputes persist. One prominent example is the Sea of Japan naming dispute, where South Korea advocates for the name "East Sea". This dispute highlights the challenges of reconciling historical claims, national identities, and international standards. Historical maps and documents are often used to support different positions, making it difficult to reach a consensus.

The act of naming, particularly in the context of shared geographical features, can be seen as an exercise of power. By imposing a name, a nation or group can assert dominance, control, or a particular narrative about a place. This is evident in the Gulf of Mexico case, where the renaming can be interpreted as an attempt to emphasise American influence in the region.

The Sea of Cantabria: Echoes of the Past

Within the Bay of Biscay lies the Cantabrian Sea, a region with a unique history and identity. Its name harkens back to the ancient Cantabri, a Celtic tribe known for their fierce resistance to Roman rule. This historical connection adds another dimension to the discussion of naming conventions, highlighting the importance of recognising the deep roots of a place and its people.

The Cantabrian Sea boasts a dramatic coastline characterised by steep cliffs, sandy beaches, and numerous estuaries and inlets. This diverse geography supports a rich marine ecosystem, and the Cantabrian Sea has long been an important fishing ground, contributing to the economic development of the region.

Beyond its natural beauty, Cantabria is a treasure trove of archaeological sites, including the world-famous Altamira cave paintings, a testament to the region's ancient human history. The Cantabrian Sea's complex geomorphology, with its submarine canyons and seamounts, further adds to its unique character.

Naming Conventions and National Identity: A Delicate Balance

The contrasting cases of the Gulf of Mexico and the Bay of Biscay illuminate the intricate relationship between naming conventions and national identity. While the United States' renaming of the Gulf of Mexico can be seen as an attempt to assert national sovereignty and project an image of American exceptionalism, the diverse names for the Bay of Biscay reflect a more nuanced approach, acknowledging the historical and cultural contributions of different groups to the region's identity.

The naming of geographical features is not simply a matter of cartographic accuracy; it is a reflection of how we perceive and interact with the world around us. Names carry historical and cultural weight, shaping our understanding of place and belonging. In the case of shared geographical features, the choice of names can become a point of contention or a symbol of cooperation.

The unilateral decision to rename the Gulf of Mexico has met with resistance from neighbouring countries, highlighting the potential for conflict when national interests are prioritised over international consensus. In contrast, the different names for the Bay of Biscay demonstrate a more inclusive approach, recognising the diverse cultural heritage of the region.

It is worth noting that the practice of naming places after rivers is not limited to bodies of water. Countries like Lithuania (named after the Lietava River) and cities like Amsterdam (named after the Amstel River) demonstrate how this convention extends to broader geographical features. Even the River Styles Framework, a system for classifying and naming river types, uses a hierarchical approach that incorporates geographical and geomorphological factors.

The renaming of the Gulf of Mexico and the diverse names for the Bay of Biscay offers valuable lessons about the complexities of naming conventions, national sovereignty, and the power of names to shape our understanding of the world. While each country has the right to name geographical features within its own territory, the naming of shared international waters requires a more delicate approach, one that considers the historical context, cultural diversity, and interests of all involved parties.

The examples demonstrate that naming is not merely a technical exercise but a reflection of national identity, cultural values, and even geopolitical tensions. By understanding the historical and geographical context of these naming conventions, we can gain a deeper appreciation for the challenges of international relations and the importance of fostering cross-cultural understanding in a world where geographical features often transcend political boundaries. Ultimately, the names we use for the places we share can either divide us or bring us together.

When one imagines Spain, the mind typically drifts to images of sun-drenched beaches, bustling cities, and the warm Mediterranean climate. However, Spain is a country of diverse climate zones, some of which might come as a surprise to those more familiar with its sunny side. One such place is Molina de Aragón, renowned for being the coldest town in the entire country.

Spain's Chilling Gem: Molina de Aragón

Nestled in the province of Guadalajara, Molina de Aragón stands at an impressive altitude of 1,060 metres. This elevation, combined with its geographical positioning, contributes to its reputation as Spain’s coldest town. Often, it is mentioned alongside Teruel and Calamocha as part of the “cold triangle,” a region known for its particularly cold climate.

In January 1952, Molina de Aragón experienced a bone-chilling record temperature of -28.2ºC. Despite the historical coldest temperature in Spain being recorded in Calamocha at -30ºC in 1963, Molina de Aragón continues to experience consistently freezing winters, with an average winter minimum of -3.5ºC. Even in the summer, the town recorded a minimum temperature of just 0.6ºC in June 2019, further emphasising its exceptionally cold climate.

Beyond its cold climate, Molina de Aragón boasts a rich historical and cultural heritage, making it an attractive destination for tourists and potential residents alike. Here are some of the must-see attractions in this unique town:

Molina de Aragón Castle: This medieval fortress, the largest in Guadalajara, offers panoramic views of the town and the surrounding landscape. Its historical significance and imposing presence make it a highlight for visitors.

Roman Bridge: Crossing the Gallo River, this picturesque bridge provides a beautiful spot for a leisurely stroll while soaking in the serene natural beauty of the area.

Plaza de España: This bustling plaza is the heart of Molina de Aragón. Surrounded by traditional architecture, it's the perfect place to immerse yourself in local life and enjoy the town’s charming atmosphere.

Molina Museum: A visit to this museum offers a journey through the history and culture of the region, with exhibitions spanning from prehistoric times to the modern day.

Alto Tajo Natural Park: Located just a few kilometres from Molina de Aragón, this natural park is a haven for outdoor enthusiasts, featuring an array of hiking trails and abundant biodiversity.

A Unique Lifestyle in Molina de Aragón

Living in Molina de Aragón is an experience that seamlessly blends tranquillity with a close connection to nature. Despite its chilly winters, the town offers an outstanding quality of life characterised by a welcoming community and peaceful surroundings.

The town’s residents enjoy a relaxed pace of life, surrounded by breathtaking mountainous landscapes. The crisp, fresh air encourages a simpler and slower lifestyle, one where the marvels of nature can be appreciated to the fullest extent.

Escape the Heat: Spain's Coolest Summer Retreats

While Molina de Aragón is renowned for its cold winters, it might surprise some to learn that it also offers respite from the intense summer heat that characterises much of Spain. The region’s mild summer climate can be a welcome relief, especially considering the 0.6ºC temperature recorded in June 2019.

Other places in Spain also offer a cooler summer experience. The Picos de Europa National Park, for instance, stands out as one of the most refreshing spots during the hottest months. Similarly, the town of Capileira, located in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada in Granada, is also known for its cool summer climate.

To truly appreciate Molina de Aragón’s chilly climate, one might consider the coldest inhabited place on Earth: Oymyakon in the Sakha Republic (Yakutia), Russia. Known as the Pole of Cold, this remote village endures severe winters with temperatures plunging to as low as -50ºC.

The village’s location in a valley, surrounded by mountains, traps cold air, resulting in these extreme conditions. Life in Oymyakon is uniquely challenging, with residents adapting to a world where ink in pens can freeze, cars must be kept running to remain operational, and metal glasses are too dangerous to wear due to the risk of sticking to the skin. Even saliva can freeze before hitting the ground.

Molina de Aragón, with its historically low temperatures and picturesque landscapes, offers a distinctive side of Spain. Its cold climate contrasts sharply with the usual perception of the country's warm weather. Yet, it provides a rich cultural and historical experience that attracts tourists and prospective residents alike. Whether you're looking to escape the heat or delve into Spain's frosty side, Molina de Aragón presents an intriguing and unique destination that stands out in the Iberian Peninsula.

Joaquín Sorolla is one of the great masters of 19th-century Spanish painting. He became internationally famous with his paintings of Mediterranean scenes, full of light and happiness. This route around his hometown, Valencia, covers the places connected to his life and works. From the neighbourhood where he grew up, to the places that inspired him, including the museums that display his art. 

The Sorolla Route is a cultural proposal that explores the history and works of the Valencian painter Joaquín Sorolla. The route covers about thirty spots around the city of Valencia which are connected to some extent to the artist. The urban route we present includes some of these important places. It can be covered on foot in a day, although you can also take the metro or tram to some of the places, for more convenience.

We start the route at the artist's birthplace, situated at 8, Calle de las Mantas street, which is marked by a commemorative plaque. Close by we'll find the Church of Santa Catalina, where he was baptised, and the Church of San Martín, where he married Clotilde García. Then we'll go to the Silk Exchange, as its steps are the setting in the artist's painting "The Cry of the Palleter" (1884). Then, we head towards the Fine Arts Club, to which the artist used to belong. It is currently situated in a Gothic palace on Calle Cadirers street.

The next stop is the Cathedral, a building that appears in some of Sorolla's earlier works. If we walk down Carrer de San Vicente Mártir street, we'll get to the Town Hall, which houses an art collection that includes some of Sorolla's paintings, such as "My Family" (1901). We continue on Calle de las Barcas street towards the section known as that of the Painter Sorolla: the Artisans' School of Valencia used to be situated here. The artist belonged to this school between 1876 and 1878. The centre is currently situated on Avenida del Reino de Valencia and conserves an oil painting by Sorolla and some of the drawings he made while he was a student.

The route continues by crossing the Turia River, over the Puente de la Exposición bridge, popularly known as "La Peineta" ("ornamental comb"). Designed by architect Santiago Calatrava, it will take us to Calle Galicia street, where we'll find the Palacio de la Exposición palace, which held the Regional Valencian Exhibition in 1909, which showcased artworks by several artists, including Sorolla.

Then we walk down Paseo de la Alameda to get to the Valencia Museum of Fine Arts. Its collection includes around 50 of Sorolla's paintings. After that we cross the Turia River again towards El Carmen Centre. It is an old 13th-century convent which used to house the School of Fine Arts, where Sorolla studied between 1878 and 1887. Today it is an exhibition centre and holds the Joaquín Sorolla Research and Study Institute. The House-Museum of Benlliure is close by, dedicated to the Benlliure family of artists, intimately connected to the Valencian artist.

The route continues towards La Malvarrosa beach, which appears in many of Sorolla's paintings. On the coast we'll also be able to discover the house of another of his friends - the House-Museum of Vicente Blasco Ibáñez. We'll also see two places whose activity was an inspiration to the artist for several of his works: the Hospital Valencia al mar (old San Juan de Dios shelter) and the Casa dels bous house. If we walk down the promenade we'll get to Valencia's monument to Sorolla, situated in Plaza de la Armada Española square.

The urban route ends at the General Cemetery of Valencia, at the family pantheon where the artist is buried. Nevertheless, we can enjoy more of his paintings in the Lladró Museum, six kilometres from the city, in Tavernes Blanques.

The Spanish colonisation of the Americas signifies one of the most impactful periods in global history, stretching from the late 15th century to the early 19th century. This era laid the groundwork for the modern Americas and widespread cultural shifts that resonate to this day. Below, we will explore the journey, challenges, and the legacy left by Spanish explorers and settlers.

The Dawn of Discovery

The Spanish colonisation commenced in 1493 on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, now divided into Haiti and the Dominican Republic. This followed the monumental voyage of Christopher Columbus in 1492, a Genoese mariner licensed by Queen Isabella I of Castile. While the initial discoveries were islands in the Caribbean, the Spanish swiftly expanded their reach across North and South America.

One can attribute Spain's drive to expand to a combination of economic interests, religious zeal, and the ambition to bolster the Spanish crown's prestige and authority. The lure of vast territories teeming with resources, and the prospect of converting indigenous inhabitants to Christianity, motivated Spaniards to journey across the Atlantic.

Mechanisms of Control

The Crown of Castile maintained jurisdiction over these new overseas endeavours until the loss of their final territories in 1898. The Spanish Empire's expansion saw the imposition of civil and religious structures to administer these vast lands effectively.

Spanish settlers, mainly concentrated in areas with dense indigenous populations and abundant resources, introduced new governance systems and sought economic gains through the extraction of resources. Additionally, Spanish rulers perceived the local populace as both human resources and potential converts to Christianity. This belief system spurred aggressive and sometimes forceful measures to integrate indigenous peoples into the Catholic faith.

Conflicting Claims and Methods of Administration

Spain's claims over the newly discovered lands enveloped almost the entirety of what was then known as the New World, including the Caribbean and significant swathes of North and South America. Notably, Brazil fell under Portuguese control as a result of the Treaty of Tordesillas. European competitors, notably the English, French, and Dutch, also staked claims in the Spanish-designated territories, often leading to territorial disputes.

Though modern narratives commonly refer to these areas as "colonies," the term was not in widespread use until the latter half of the 18th century. Present-day scholars continue to debate the appropriate terminology to describe this period, reflecting the complexity and multifaceted nature of these historical events.

Population Dynamics and Labour Practices

From 1492 to 1832, approximately 1.86 million Spaniards emigrated to the Americas, and an additional 3.5 million followed in the post-independence era between 1850 and 1950. In the 16th century, around 250,000 Spaniards relocated, with the rate of immigration peaking during the 18th century, encouraged by the Bourbon dynasty.

Tragically, the indigenous population experienced a catastrophic decline of about 80% within the first 150 years following European contact. The primary cause was the spread of infectious diseases, to which indigenous peoples had no immunity. Additionally, forced labour and slavery, exploitation for resource extraction, and essential resettlements, contributed significantly to the population decrease.

Attempts at Protection and the Rise of a Mixed-Race Society

Alarmed by the drastic population decline, the Spanish crown enacted laws designed to safeguard indigenous peoples from excessive exploitation. As the indigenous labour force dwindled, Europeans imported enslaved Africans to work in the early Caribbean settlements. Over time, intermingling of European, indigenous, and African populations gave rise to a new, mixed-race group known as the casta.

Wars of Independence and the End of Overarching Spanish Rule

The early 19th century saw widespread independence movements across Spanish America, leading to the emergence of several independent nations. Despite these seismic political shifts, Spain retained control over Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines until the Spanish-American War of 1898, which resulted in the loss of these final holdings.

Imperial Expansion

The expansion of the Spanish Empire began under the Catholic Monarchs Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon. Aside from the New World, their conquests within the Iberian Peninsula also included the successful campaign to capture the Emirate of Granada in 1492, concluding the Christian Reconquista.

Key Figures: Hernán Cortés and Francisco Pizarro

The names Hernán Cortés and Francisco Pizarro are etched in history due to their roles in conquering the powerful Aztec and Inca empires, respectively. Cortés's strategic alliances, especially with the Tlaxcala city-state, proved pivotal in his campaigns. Spanish conquerors often leveraged indigenous rivalries to achieve their aims, with varying degrees of success and often severe consequences for the local populace.

Settlement Patterns and Cultural Impacts

Early Spanish settlements in the Caribbean set influential patterns for later colonial developments. Despite Columbus's steadfast belief that he had reached Asia, the Spanish soon understood the depth of their discovery, referring to their territories as "The Indies." The Spanish acknowledged and harnessed the fragmented political landscapes in regions like Mexico and Peru to establish control, whereas in the Caribbean, other strategies were needed due to the lack of large, integrated indigenous civilizations.

The Spanish colonisation left a lasting cultural legacy, evident in language, religion, and cultural traditions still prevalent in the Americas today. Moreover, it catalysed the spread of European culture and brought lasting changes—both beneficial and detrimental—to the social fabric of the Americas.

The Spanish colonisation of the Americas was a complex and multifaceted historical period marked by exploration, conquest, exploitation, and significant cultural interchange. From the momentous voyage of Columbus to the vast, influential empire administered by the Spanish Crown, this era reshaped the global historical landscape and left an indelible mark that continues to influence the Americas. The stories of heroism, tragedy, and cultural amalgamation from this period remain subjects of study and reflection, enhancing our understanding of the transformative power of historical encounters.

Although there are those who still think that Madrid has always been the capital of Spain, the truth is that it has not. Throughout the history of the country and for different historical reasons throughout it, the capital moved in the past to other cities such as Toledo, Valladolid, Cádiz or Valencia, among others. All this together with the first capitals that were part of the peninsula at the time of ancient Visigothic Hispania, at the time of the Roman Republic or at the beginning of the Kingdom of Spain that originated after the reconquest in Covadonga (Asturias). These are the cities that have been the capital of Spain:

Cordoba

Córdoba was founded by the Romans during the second century BC, and it also became the capital of Hispania in times of the Roman Republic, as well as the Betica province during the Roman Empire. But its moment of splendour as a capital occurred during the Muslim domination of the Iberian Peninsula when it rose as the capital of the Emirate of Córdoba. A history that has also led it to become the city that houses the most titles of World Heritage Sites and thanks to authentic treasures that still live on today such as the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba, its historic centre, the Fiesta de Los Patios or the palatine city of Medina Azahara, among others.

Barcelona

Barcelona was the first capital of Hispania Goda and it was reinstated several times specifically during the Visigothic period. Known at that time as Barcino, present-day Barcelona was a Roman city until the arrival of the Goths. Few remains from that Visigoth period are currently preserved in Barcelona, but most of what has been preserved can be seen in the archaeological basement of the Barcelona History Museum. Another important moment in the history of the city would be in 1937 when, in the middle of the Civil War, it was decided to move the headquarters of the Republican Government to Barcelona.

Cangas de Onís

In addition to being known as one of the must-see visits if you travel to Asturias, as well as for the Covadonga Cave, the Basilica and the famous lakes of Covadonga, Cangas de Onís was the first capital of Asturias and according to Asturians, it was also the first capital of the Kingdom of Spain. It was precisely in Covadonga where Don Pelayo won the battle against Muslim troops in 722, thus initiating the Reconquest. In Cangas de Onís, Don Pelayo first established the capital of the Kingdom of Asturias and later that of Spain.
 

Toledo

Toledo has had its role as capital in two moments in history. The first was in the year 567 when King Atanagildo decided to move the capital of the Spanish Visigothic Kingdom from Barcelona to Toledo. In this way, Toledo became the capital of the Kingdom of Spain. Hundreds of years later, between 1519 and 1561, Toledo once again became the capital of the Spanish empire with Carlos V, but they would finally end up in 1561 with the Cortes moving to Madrid.

Madrid

The history of Madrid as capital begins in May 1561 when Felipe II makes the decision to establish the Court permanently in this city. A decision that would forever change the history of the city, which at that time was just one more city in the kingdom. One of the main reasons associated with this decision is the geographical centrality of Madrid with respect to the rest of the peninsula, although this change has also been linked to political and love affairs on the part of Felipe II.

From this moment the accelerated growth of this city began, although it should be noted that between 1601 and 1939 the Cortes passed in different periods of time from Madrid to other cities such as Valladolid, Seville, Cádiz, Valencia or Burgos, the latter two, coinciding with the instability of the Spanish Civil War. It is finally in 1939 when the capital city returns permanently to Madrid.

Valladolid

For the city of Valladolid, history took an unexpected turn in 1601 after the advisor of Felipe III, the Duke of Lerma, managed to transfer the Court of Madrid to Valladolid. An unexpected event that made Valladolid the capital of the Empire from 1601 to 1606. An event that also brought this city its moment of maximum splendour.

Seville

Seville was the capital of Spain specifically for two years and at the same time that the Napoleonic wars occurred (between 1808 and 1810). In those years, a large part of Spanish territory was invaded by Napoleon's troops and Seville was one of the places where they fought with the greatest force against these troops. It was specifically on December 16, 1808, when Count Floridablanca, president of the 'Junta Central', summoned the Junta to Seville, from which time Seville became the Spanish capital, the Real Alcázar being the headquarters of the  'Junta Central'. This came to an end in January 1810 when Seville finally surrendered to the French army.

Cadiz

In addition to being the oldest city in Spain and also in Europe, its foundation being located eighty years after the Trojan War around the 13th century BC, Cádiz also became the capital of Spain after the transfer of the Cortes and after the handover of Seville to the French. Its period as capital city ran from 1810 to 1813 and it was in this city where the Spanish Constitution of 1812, La Pepa, was proclaimed.

Valencia

Valencia also experienced its time as the capital of Spain, something that occurred between November 1936 and October 1937, after the Council of Ministers made the decision to move the capital and due to the dangerous approach of Franco's troops to Madrid. A moment in history that corresponded to the Second Republic and in the midst of the Civil War. A new capital that happened from one day to the next. The current headquarters of the Cortes, the Palacio de Los Borja, was converted to the republican centre of operations.

Burgos

After the government of the Republic moved between 1936 and 1939 from Valencia, to Barcelona and Gerona and Figueras, finally, Burgos ended up holding the capital of Spain between April 1 and October 18, 1939, coinciding with the end of the Spanish Civil War. This resulted in Burgos becoming the capital of nationalist Spain after the coup against the Republic.

Every February, the streets of Barcelona come alive with a celebration deeply rooted in the city’s rich history and cultural fabric: the Festes de Santa Eulàlia. This vibrant festival honours Santa Eulalia, Barcelona’s co-patron saint, and reflects the distinct blend of reverence, tradition, and joyous festivity that characterizes the Catalan capital. This year it starts on February 12th.

Santa Eulalia of Barcelona is revered as a martyr and is counted among the city’s most significant historical figures. According to tradition, Eulalia was a young, pious girl who lived during Roman times. At the tender age of 13, she publicly opposed the persecution of Christians ordered by Emperor Diocletian. Her defiance led to her arrest and subsequent martyrdom under gruesome circumstances, involving thirteen tortures, one for each year of her life. Her bravery and faith secured her a lasting place in the hearts of Barcelonians.

The Festes de Santa Eulàlia commence with a solemn yet spirited atmosphere. The festival begins with a solemn Mass held at the cathedral of Santa Eulalia, also known as La Seu. A grand parade follows, featuring the city’s iconic gegants (giants) and capgrossos (big-headed figures). Adorned in elaborate costumes, these giant figures parade through the city, captivating spectators with their towering presence and rhythmic dance.

One of the most breathtaking highlights of the festival is the display of castells. These human towers, constructed by agile teams called Castellers, symbolize collective effort and communal unity. Constructing a Castell involves a precise interplay of strength, balance, and teamwork, with young children often climbing to the very top. The sight of a Castell reaching skyward is both thrilling and deeply emblematic of Catalan culture.

The Sardana, a traditional Catalan circle dance, forms another integral part of the Festes de Santa Eulàlia. Local dance groups gather in public squares, inviting residents and visitors alike to join in this communal dance. With hands linked, dancers perform intricate steps to the accompanying strains of cobla music, fostering a sense of community and shared heritage.

For those seeking a more adrenaline-fueled experience, the correfoc (fire run) provides an exhilarating spectacle. As night falls, costumed devils and mythical creatures take to the streets, wielding sparklers and fireworks. They charge through the crowd to the beat of drums, creating an electrifying atmosphere. Participants and onlookers alike are advised to wear protective clothing to fully enjoy this unique tradition safely.

One of the more contemporary additions to the festival program is the stunning display of light and sound installations that decorate Barcelona’s buildings and public spaces. Iconic landmarks such as the Ajuntament (City Hall) and the Basilica of Santa Maria del Mar are transformed into canvases for brilliant projections, casting the city in a luminous, almost magical hue.

In keeping with the spirit of Santa Eulalia, who is often characterized as the patron saint of children, the festival also includes numerous activities designed for young ones. From storytelling sessions detailing the life of Santa Eulalia to workshops and craft activities, children play a central role in the celebrations, learning about their heritage in an engaging and festive environment.

While the Festes de Santa Eulàlia is deeply rooted in religious tradition, it serves a broader cultural and social purpose. It is a time for Barcelonians to come together, celebrate their heritage, and reaffirm their communal bonds. The festival also highlights the city’s commitment to preserving and promoting Catalan culture, ensuring that traditions are passed down through generations.

For visitors, the Festes de Santa Eulàlia offer a unique opportunity to experience both the historical and contemporary facets of Barcelona. The city’s streets, already famed for their architectural splendour and vibrant energy, take on an even more dynamic character during the festival. By participating in the events, sampling local culinary delights, and mingling with residents, visitors can gain a deeper understanding of the city’s rich cultural tapestry.

The Festes de Santa Eulàlia stand as a testament to Barcelona’s enduring spirit of celebration and cultural pride. Honouring the legacy of a young girl whose bravery left an indelible mark on the city’s history, the festival seamlessly blends ancient traditions with modern expressions of community. Whether through the majestic parades, the daring human towers, or the dazzling light displays, the festival offers a heartfelt celebration of Barcelona’s past and present. For locals and visitors alike, the Festes de Santa Eulàlia are a vibrant reminder of the city’s unique charm and its profound sense of identity.

Traditions have always aroused a lot of curiosity in me because there is always a reason for them, nothing just happens by chance. Every year I celebrate the tradition of the New Year's Eve grapes and many years ago I wondered why they actually did this and nobody really seemed to know why. Still, to this very day, I am yet to meet a Spaniard who knows the story..... so I always end up telling it, every year!

The very short version of the story, which is pretty much common knowledge, is that wine farmers from Alicante and Murcia promoted the tradition in 1909. They were eager to sell on their large surplus of grapes from the incredible harvest they had had that year. However, although this story has some truth to it, the real origin dates back even further.

If we define the tradition of the New Year's Eve grapes as when twelve grapes are eaten in the Puerta del Sol at 12 am on December 31, which is basically the general understanding, the first written testimony of this goes as far back as January 1897 when the Madrid Press published that in "Madrid it is customary to eat twelve grapes as the clock strikes twelve, separating the outgoing year from the incoming year…" this means that at least in 1896 it was done, and probably many years before that for it to be considered  “customary” by the local press.

The plausible explanation for why someone decided it was a good idea to get cold the last night of the year waiting for a clock to strike 12 strokes and choke on a dozen grapes goes back to 1882. That year the mayor of Madrid, José Abascal y Carredano, decided to impose a tax of 5 pesetas for all those who wanted to go out and celebrate the Three Kings on the night of January 5. The purpose of this was not to stop any tradition or start any new ones but to stop the general public from raising hell and getting drunk through the night – this should not be confused with the festive floats and processions which were in the afternoon and open to everyone. 

However, it did deprive the vast majority of the locals of partying that night, except for those that were well off, of course. This obviously led to the people rebelling and trying to find a way to let off steam so New Year’s Eve became the night of preference for partying and an opportunity to make a mockery of the recent bourgeois traditions imported from France and Germany. The local newspapers frequently published how the upper class now celebrated the New Year by drinking champagne and eating grapes during the New Year’s Eve dinner, so as an act of protest the working class would congregate in the Puerta del Sol and eat grapes as the clock struck twelve.

This behaviour quickly spread and popularised in the capital, to the point that in 1897 the merchants of the city advertised the sale of “Lucky Grapes” and within just a few years it was known as far away as Tenerife.  Now, this is when the Levante wine farmers come on the scene, taking advantage of their surplus production in 1909, they carried out a national campaign to embed and enhance the custom throughout the country and were thus able to sell all their harvest.

Clearly, it worked and today there are few who do not welcome the New Year with 12 grapes in their hand and eat them to the sound of each stroke as it counts down to the New Year. Rare is the Spaniard who will risk poisoning their fate for the coming year by skipping the grapes, many don’t finish them in time and it does take a bit of practice but it is the effort that counts, no effort – no luck, well at least that’s what those who don’t succeed tend to say… 

For those who cannot be in the Puerta del Sol, they will follow it on television, normally on La Primera which tops the national audience ratings year after year with around 8 million viewers, some 6 million more than second place. Being such an important occasion some people spend a few extra minutes to remove the seeds or peel the skins off their grapes all in an attempt to improve their chances of swallowing them in time. My best piece of advice is: buy small seedless grapes and you’ll have no problem but they are not easy to come by as the traditional grape variety for New Year's Eve is the Vinalopó from the Valencian Community, the one promoted by the wine farmers back in 1909, so if you can't find seedless try to avoid the large juicy ones or you’ll be in trouble and may well choke your way into the New Year, try and pick the smaller ones and at least remove the seeds…. Good Luck and wishing you all a Happy New Year!

The Industrial Revolution changed everything. In the history of humanity, there have been many technological milestones and a good handful of them have contributed to shaping our world into what we know today. However, along with fire, writing and the digital revolution, the industrial revolution competes for first place in the ranking of importance and, therefore, its main representative: the steam engine. Perhaps that is why the Spanish find it so attractive to think that, perhaps, the person responsible for all this could be a Spaniard. A 16th-century Spaniard who designed a steam engine prior to the one that James Watt would patent in 1769. His name had been lost over the centuries as if brushed aside and forgotten.

Jerónimo de Ayanz y Beaumont was a Navarrese military man, humanist and polymath who soon turned to music, cosmology and, of course, engineering. Depending on where we read about his life, we will find from modest biographies to true odes to this “Spanish Leonardo”. What is true, then? If we leave aside the ambiguous statements and the chauvinistic effluvia, we will find a series of interesting and commendable achievements, but that is far from the production of most of the historical figures that we have for "geniuses”,  such as  Da Vinci. And, knowing this, it is normal that we start from a certain point of mistrust when accepting that he could be the father of one of the most decisive revolutions in history. A suspicion that increases when we begin to document ourselves about it and find that there seem to be a few figures who dispute the invention of the steam engine. What's the problem? None of them lies as such, but it seems difficult to assign paternity to this invention and there is a good reason for it.

The truth is that the family tree of almost any technological revolution is very difficult to trace. It is not clear where it begins or who should be recognised as the father. In the end, a series of figures share quite important merits and it does not seem easy to choose one in particular, so our brain ends up asking us to desist, unable to unravel the web of contradictions that we find (especially in informative texts). Luckily, there are two key questions that we can ask ourselves whenever we find ourselves in this situation and that may help us resolve the doubt.

Of course, the simplest question would be "who was the first?". But in general, we will find that almost all devices are based on previous designs and, as much as it surprises us, they can be traced back almost as much as we want. For example, in the case of a machine that uses steam to generate movement, we could go back to the first century AD. and name Heron of Alexandria as the father of technology. His aeolipile was a sphere filled with water which, when heated, released pressurized steam through two twisted tubes, thereby spinning the sphere on an axis. In fact, maybe we could go back a few years because we know that Heron used to be inspired by previous designs by Ctesibius. However, we will agree that it was impossible to achieve the Industrial Revolution with the Alexandrian design. Therefore, the really important question is not that, but who put the intention and who made it efficient.

Heron did not know what to use the aeolipile for, his intention was not adequate and that is why he did not begin to use it to generate the workforce. That turning point, in which a technological anecdote finds a revolutionary application, is possibly the key to determining who its true inventor is. In this case, there is quite a bit of dispute, because until a few decades ago Thomas Savery was spoken of as the pioneer who developed, for the first time, a functional steam engine. Specifically, his purpose was to use it as a suction pump, capable of creating a vacuum by expanding and contracting steam. That happened in 1698 but we have already said that our Spanish candidate lived in the previous century, so if he had found a clear application, it could become the first practical application of which we are aware.

Well, the truth is yes. Indeed, Jerónimo had already used his steam engine to generate a vacuum and ventilate mines thanks to it. However, we will agree that none of these applications is close to the engines that made the Industrial Revolution what it was. However, there is an even bigger problem: it was completely inefficient, practically a curious toy, better than nothing, but quite useless. Thomas Newcomen would take a new step in 1712, creating the atmospheric steam engine, capable of pumping water more or less continuously, but it was still very inefficient. That is why we usually consider James Watt the father of the steam engine because when he came up with his patent in 1769, that machine had two basic characteristics: it was applicable and it was much more efficient than its predecessors. To get an idea, it consumed a third of the coal that Newcomen's needed to produce the same energy, and that is what we needed to fuel a true Industrial Revolution.

Without a doubt, Jerónimo de Ayanz y Beaumont is a Spanish figure to be proud of, but despite the fact that he made some important progressions, it is difficult to justify that he is the father of a technology for which he was neither the first nor the one who gave the real leap in efficiency.

Día de los Santos Inocentes (Day of the Holy Innocents) is observed on December 28th in Spain and many Latin American countries, and its origin is rooted in a tragic event described in the Bible. According to the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 2:16-18), King Herod the Great, feeling threatened by the prophecy of the birth of Jesus, ordered the massacre of all male infants in Bethlehem who were two years old and under. This horrifying event is known as the "Massacre of the Innocents."

King Herod, having been informed by the Wise Men of the birth of a new "King of the Jews," sought to eliminate any potential challenger to his throne. When he realized that the Wise Men had outwitted him by not returning to disclose Jesus' location, he ordered the killing of all young male children in Bethlehem and its vicinity. This event caused untold suffering and grief among the families of these innocent children.

The Transformation of the Tradition

Over time, the commemoration of this somber event evolved into a cultural and social tradition with a distinctly different tone. In Medieval Spain, this day began to be marked by a series of pranks and practical jokes, akin to April Fool's Day in many Western countries. Today, Día de los Santos Inocentes is characterized by light-hearted antics and merriment. People play practical jokes, tell tall tales, and the media often publishes fake news stories, all in good fun.

The transformation from a day of mourning to one of mirth is an interesting cultural evolution. The exact reasons for this shift are not entirely clear, but it is believed that the blending of pagan and Christian traditions, along with a natural human tendency to ward off the darkness of winter with joy and laughter, played a significant role.

The Cultural Twist

Despite the comedic overtones associated with modern celebrations of Día de los Santos Inocentes, the day retains its historical and religious roots for many. It serves as a reminder of the innocent lives lost in Bethlehem and the cruelty of Herod's decree. In some regions, traditional observances still include religious services and prayers to honor the memory of the martyred children.

In various parts of Spain and Latin America, unique local customs also reflect the day’s dual nature. For example:

• In Guatemala, the day is marked by the release of small lanterns into the sky, symbolizing the souls of the innocent children.

• In Mexico, elaborate practical jokes are combined with a more reflective aspect, where families remember the biblical story.

• In Ecuador, there are parades and street performances that mix comedy with poignant reminders of the historical events.

A Day of Duality

Día de los Santos Inocentes is a day of duality, blending sorrow with joy, and reflection with laughter. It demonstrates how cultural traditions can evolve and adapt over time, incorporating new elements while retaining their historical and religious significance. The pranks and jokes that are now synonymous with the day bring a sense of joy and community, but they also add a layer of complexity to the commemoration of an event that originally symbolized a dark period of infanticide and suffering.

In celebrating Día de los Santos Inocentes, many people are reminded of the resilience of the human spirit and the importance of finding light even in the darkest of times.