Morriña

Table football? A Galician invention. Maradonna? Galician (well…his parents actually). General Franco? From Ferrol, Galicia. The first football match in Spain? Was in Galicia. The first cricket match in Spain? Ourense, Galicia. Nobel Prize winner for literature Camilo Jose Cela? Galician. Yes, rumour even has it that Christopher Columbus was born in the small town of Poio (which by the way means chicken in Gallego)…in Galicia.

I have heard it all before and I heard it all again the other week when we visited the promised land of Carmen’s origin: Galicia, an autonomous region in the North-west of Spain bordered by Portugal and Asturias. The reason for our visit was somewhat morbid. Carmen’s mother had managed to crash through a window and was hospitalized. However, we found her in her typical good spirits and she is doing fine now.

Those of you who know Carmen know her love for Galicia. She is entering her third year outside her beloved home-land. But she is not alone. Galicia is crammed with migration history. Over the last century many Gallegos left their beloved shores to find work all over the world. They went to Argentina, Switzerland, Australia, Uruguay, Germany, basically you can find Galicians everywhere. In fact, the word for a foreigner in some Latin American countries is Gallego.

All of these immigrants however show the desire to return home. This yearning is so strong and unique that the Spanish language has a special adopted word - Morriña – which originates from Gallego to describe this feeling. It is one of those great words which do not have a fitting translation and can’t be agreeably translated into another language (like gezellig in Dutch). It means as much as homesick, but it is a particular feeling unknown to non-Gallegos. It includes the missing of your people, your food, your customs, your land.
(Back home in Galicia with real Gallegos)

The other day Carmen told me that the sensation of Morriña was being investigated by natural scientists trying to establish a link between the physical elements of Galicia and the feeling of Morriña. Some claim that the water and land of Galicia transmit some supernatural force which magnetically attracts its people back (I think it is their cheese which is mighty tasty!). Carmen has a good deal of Morriña in her and it is a miracle that she has survived so long outside its borders.

When rain was battering the puffed up town of Barcelona (see previous article) during Semana Santa (Easter Holiday) Carmen remained cheerful. Why? Well, Barcelona has the fame of being a sunny city whereas Galicia has about as much reputation as a showery day in rain-land but whilst we were sheltering under Catalan palms tourists were flocking to the beaches of the Rias Baixas – Carmen’s coast – which was being blessed by delicious sunshine.

“I told you,” she beamed as I was in vain drying my soaked socks by blowing on them, “we have a micro-climate in the Rias Baixas. And a very special one you know.” Only too aware of her Morriña I petted her on her damp head and replied “Of course you do” meanwhile cursing the wetness. Minutes later, I was getting increasingly jealous and annoyed (which I might add is the same feeling) and was about to say “well I have two micro-climates” in a ridiculous and desperate attempt to win a deteriorating discussion on West-Iberian coastal meteorology.

Carmen was, however, as usual, correct. Last week, during our stay the weather was great and we enjoyed a couple of days on the beach as rain was still battering the best part of Catalonia. I even got to practice the lingo with the locals. At present my Gallego runs from Un home, un home, un jato, jato (a man, a man, a cat, a cat) to Imos a molla-la palleta (Let’s go to wet our bottom lip) which surprisingly gets you quite far in Galicia as it covers just about everything.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I am jealous at Carmen’s Morriña. I simply do not have a place like Galicia to call home. The closest I have is the posh The Hague neighbourhood of the Benoordenhout where your status is judged on the colour pants you wear. A world away from Galicia where you can run on the beach pretending you are Pamela Anderson and David Haselhoff without being scorned at.

So, hooray for Carmen. Hooray for Morriña and Galicia. And the loudest hooray for Micro Climates which continue to confuse me!

The photos shown below are a collection of Galician photos over the past two years.