Swimming in spring is impossible: the Barcelona seasons cause Anglo Catalan upset

“Spring,” I say, looking out from the balcony at a beautifully sunny day, “has sprung.”

My Catalan girlfriend looks at me suspiciously.

“No,” she replies, “spring starts on March 20, the first day of the vernal equinox. We’ve talked about this.”

And indeed we have. Many times. There are not many things we argue about, my girlfriend and I, but the passing of the seasons is one.

Let me explain: as someone who grew up in Britain I have a rather hazy, non-constrictive view of the seasons. They start, I have always believed, on a rough date that has everything to do with the weather and little to do with the calendar. So if there is a day of beautiful spring-like sunshine in early March, say, then spring has to all extents and purposes started.

For my Catalan girlfriend, however, the seasons have very definite dates for starting and finishing. These are based on the vernal equinox (March 20), the summer solstice (June 21, when summer kicks off), the autumnal equinox (September 22, when autumn boots summer out of the way) and the winter solstice (December 21, when winter takes its grim hold).

As you might imagine, this inconsistency in definition, tied to the depressingly real differences between the weather in Scotland and Barcelona, gives us very differing views indeed about what each season contains. And this leads to arguments.

In the interests of inter-European peace, then, I have decided to explain definitively here the differences between the Barcelona seasons - as my girlfriend sees them – and the British ones, in the hope that you, too, may avoid an argument one day.

Winter

In Britain, winter is the evil overlord of the seasons, typically running from November to March, inclusive. It will be cold and / or wet, the trains will probably stop running and most foreign visitors will finally realise why central heating is in fact a very good idea.

It is a depressing season, in other words, only enlightened by Christmas, drinking and the very slight possibility that heavy snowfall will keep you off work for a couple of days. Needless to say, going to the beach and – heaven forfend – swimming, should only be done a) as a dare or b) for charity, preferably both.

The Barcelona winter, meanwhile, is seen as something of a relief after all that relentless heat. You will need that heavy coat you so usefully brought from the UK for, maybe, one week total, during which time you will also wonder for the first time why your flat doesn’t possess any heating.

All this will be soon forgotten, though, when March comes around and you realise you could, just about, go swimming in the sea, even if only to tell your friends you did it.

Spring

In Britain spring is the most elusive of seasons. It lasts for about a month and mainly consists of moderately sunny days, which each last about 12 hours before winter kicks back in. Spring is a tease, then, and the most deceitful time of the year.

The problem, really, is that spring is actually rather nice in Britain: the sun comes out at last – although not enough to merit the suntan lotion – plants show their bedraggled faces and you can finally ditch the heavy winter coat in favour of the optimistically thin one you bought in the sales. At the back of your mind, though, you know it’s going to be raining again tomorrow.

In Barcelona, “spring” runs from March 20 to June 20, a time when temperatures average about 24 degrees centigrade. You can go swimming, sunbathe on the beach and invite your friends to a barbecue, safe in the knowledge that it won’t be too cold. This, you will hardly need me to tell you, doesn’t exactly constitute spring weather for the British.

Ah but it does rain, the Catalans will say. True: they even have an expression for it: “En Abril, aguas mil, el Maig cada dia un raig” (basically, “In April, lots of rain, in May, a little bit every day”).  But spring in Barcelona is so hot that this rain will be a genuine relief, rather than the guaranteed party pooper it proves in the UK.

Summer

Summer is the blessed season in the UK: the sun comes out, everyone goes to the park and not stopping to have a pint in the local beer garden is punishable by law. It’s lovely.

Then again, it only really lasts about two months – July and August – during which time some 80% of the population will go abroad to somewhere warmer anyway. Even then, you’ve probably got about 10 sunny days, unless there’s a “heat wave” (three consecutive days over 30 degrees) during which the trains will stop working again.

Expect to see at least one newspaper headline during the British summer that declares “Britain hotter than Majorca / Ibiza / the Costa Brava”, which you will inevitably read in a thunderous deluge of rain. Nevertheless, summer is basically everyone’s favourite season in Britain and if anyone disagrees they’re just trying to be different.

By contrast, summer is, for many Barcelona dwellers, their least favourite part of the year on the grounds that it is – brace yourself for this, British readers – simply too hot, as if averaging above 30 degrees for three consecutive months was somehow a bad thing.

This partially explains why everyone who is anyone abandons Barcelona in August, leaving just American tourists who spend much of their time wondering why they can’t find a dry cleaner that is open.

Autumn

Autumn is, according to John Keats, the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”. Accordingly many British people will put up an argument for autumn being the most beautiful season and it is, certainly, rather attractive, as the leaves turn a goldy red and the fog rolls in.

Rather like spring, though, it is marred by its elusive nature: it is pretty much guaranteed in Britain that the moment you conclude that autumn is here it will be replaced by the freezing winds and rain of winter. And, quite honestly, who wants to go outside to look at the lovely trees when you know you’ve got a 50% chance of picking up a cold and the pub’s fire is incredibly warming?

In Barcelona, however, autumn is essentially summer 2. There’s a little less humidity, sure, and the mosquitos may retreat an inch. But essentially it is still summer, with all the warmth and outdoor leisure that implies.

Indeed, if it wasn’t for having to go back to work and the fact that the local dry cleaner is open again, then you probably wouldn’t even notice the season had changed. Which is how it should be, surely?

 

 

Comments

[Publicado por: Anto77]

Lovely reading, light and funny... and when talking/writing about the weather I think light&funny can be a compliment : )