‘German Whore’. I found this in the stairwell, the same thing also written on the door of an unoccupied flat. The sun shines most of the time here, but this place clearly has a much, much darker side.
I got wind that there was a problem the other day when a man stood outside the apartment block shouting similar things at the top of his voice: ‘This is Spain, not Germany’. It’s an internal politics issue – the newly elected president of the resident’s association is, you might have guessed, a German lady.
From the outside, Spain is viewed in the rest of Europe as a slightly more racist country than others, particularly when I talk to people back in the UK. To me, that sounds like a generalisation and I’d prefer not to brand a whole nation as racist, but when I get home and there’s swastikas painted everywhere it’s getting more and more difficult for me to give the benefit of the doubt.
I wish I could say that this has nothing to do with me, but it’s hard to think that I’m sharing a building with someone who would even do such a thing.
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