My mixed-up country

The recent furore over Lewis Hamilton's appearance in Spain - when four men blacked up and hurled abuse at the driver - has made me think about my new country.

Sadly, we've become used to such things. One of the Hamilton men has said he is not racist and only dressed up for the fun of carnival. Not like the woman I met the other day at the bus stop. Hearing my accent, she asked where I was from. Hearing I was English, she kissed both my cheeks and welcomed me to Spain . . . before proudly pronouncing: "No me gustan los immigrantes" (I don't like immigrants) and "Soy racista" (I'm a racist). She didn't like people from Africa, Morroco, "any of those places". OK, as she went on it was easy to see she wasn't the full euro but we've had students, high-up businessmen, feel perfectly at ease making the same declarations to us. A good friend of our is constantly referred to as "el negro" - the black man - without any ill feeling meant. To them, he is black and a man . . . what's wrong with saying "the truth"?

Hopefully, as more immigrants come to Spain and they integrate, this policy will change. Sadly, for the older generation, I think it's a lost cause. They were brought up on Franco's pride in being Spanish and it still shows. Years of isolation are hard to undo.