My first breath of Spanish air, I breathed in Barajas airport in Madrid.  I was surprised to find that air carrying the smoke of countless cigarettes.  For a young, sheltered Canadian it was unheard of that people should be smoking inside a public building.  The guards with machine guns were also smoking, which was a real oddity to say the least.

Since that day in 1997 things have changed somewhat, but not as much as I would have thought.

On January 1^st, 2006, new laws came into effect that restricted the smoking of cigarettes in all public places.  Well, yes and no.  The laws allowed for bars, cafés and restaurants of 100m2 or less (1075 sq feet) to remain smoking as long as they put up a sign letting people know that smoking was permitted within.  That makes for a lot of tiny bars, cafés and restaurants awash in the blue haze of second hand smoke. (Here’s an article about the laws when they came in.)

They say that the most militant anti-smokers are the ones who have kicked the habit themselves.  Despite the brief period (nine months, I think) that I embraced tobacco, I don’t think that this includes me.  The nearly three years that I spent in Madrid last millennia (hey, it sounds dramatic, but it’s accurate…) were often experienced in a cloud of cigarette smoke and I don’t remember it ever bothering me.  Now, it’s a slightly different story.

In my native Canada, smoking in bars was common in 1997.  I had never been exposed to serious alcohol consumption that wasn’t paired with the constant exhalations of smokers.  The move to Madrid meant more smoking in more places, but wasn’t really all that different.  This time, I’ve come from a Canada where cigarettes are on the out.  Although some designated smoking areas exist in a few establishments, you really have to seek them out.  Adjusting to a country whose countless charming bars, cafés and restaurants of less than 100m2 are very often smoke-friendly is a real culture shock, and an unpleasant one at that.

The truth is: I hate to admit it.  You see, I have a friend back in Canada who really doesn’t understand why I want to live anywhere in Europe.  He loves his life in Vancouver and insists that it is the best city on Earth.  (Actually, the fervour of his patriotism is very much like that of many Spaniards I know.)  He took a trip to Barcelona about a year before we left for Spain and the number one reason he gave for rejecting a life there was the incessant smoking.  I’m loath to lose an argument, but I have to agree with him on that point.

But there it ends.  I love Valencia and am following John Maher’s astute advice to ‘take the rough with the smooth’ and ‘love even the faults’ of my chosen home.  (John’s website, Wines of Valencia, is essential for anyone wanting to learn about Valencian wines.)

We’ve been experiencing what most locals describe as a horribly cold winter, and yet since arriving in late December, we’ve had many opportunities to avoid the smoky interiors thanks to both day and night time temperatures that make patios and terraces a comfortable option.

A few cigarettes aren’t going to smoke us out of Spain.

For more reflections on the issue, take a look at ‘Notes from Spain‘, a blog site that I have just discovered and become a fan of.

Photo “Smoke Spiral” by Katie Dureault published under a Creative Commons license.  (Thanks!)