In honor of Celia's birthday (har, har), Spain had a general strike, which meant that all public transportation came to a halt. The Spanish trade unions were protesting the government’s austerity measures and changes to the labor employment laws. With unemployment at a staggering ~20%, Spain, like many European countries, has had to restrict spending. Some of the more unpopular cut backs include the 5% pay cut for civil servants and the suspension of inflation adjustments for pensions.
One of the sticking points for the unions and an impetus for Huelga are changes to employment rights. Spain has had a very generous system of compensation for employees if they are sacked. In the past, some employees could expect compensation of up to 45 days pay per year worked. As you can imagine, this has made firing workers extremely expensive for an employer. This is now going to be significantly reduced.
While the strike has had little lasting impact on our lives, it did create mild raucous on Paseo de la Independencia (the main street near our apartment), and shut down the buses for a day including the one that Colin and Kelsey take to/from school. Without a car, we were unable to transport them. Additionally, we were told that a normal school day may not happen at JDL since their teachers had the option to teach due to Huelga (although they aren't paid if they don't show up at school). The kids wound up staying home for the day...and, they had already missed Monday for our long weekend in Barcelona (for some reason, they weren't exactly complaining although Kelsey thought the whole thing was pretty odd). As it turned out, we heard that JDL had a regular school day -- except without Colin and Kelsey Chase.
Interestingly, the strike organizers had plastered stickers on shop windows saying things like, "Cerrado por Huelga" (Closed for the strike). They would then take pictures of the shops to show the supposed success of the strike (in many/most instances, the shops weren't actually closed).
Zaragoza has not escaped Spain's economic woes. Like many bigger cities, homeless people are fairly common. In fact, last week while having lunch with Ellen, a beggar asked me if he could finish the food on my plate. Feeling badly for him, I gave him my unfinished bread, meat and cheese. The homeless folks start to look familiar here since we see the same ones repeatedly. It reminds me a bit of my Berkeley days in college.
I remember the familiar faces of the hobos, too.
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