I live in Australia. Specifically, I live in Melbourne. With a few exceptions, it’s a long way away from anywhere else in the world. You realise this if you travel internationally not only from the hours you put in on a plane to reach Europe, say, or the Americas, but also from people’s reactions when you tell them where you’re from. “You came here from Australia?” they ask, “Oooh that’s such a long way away!”
Despite the immediacy of the media that we use every day, despite the fact that we can read about on Twitter or watch on the news events from the other side of the world as they are happening, these events still have a ‘far away over there’ quality when you’re observing them from Australia.
I obviously knew about the European economic crisis before heading over to Europe last month; I’d seen many reports on the news and read many, many newspaper articles over the last three years.
I was in Spain for a week before heading to Greece and while I was mostly sheltered from the effects of the crisis in Spain by the nature of my trip (I was staying in a resort and going on organised tours), there were still signs of the economic downturn.
Annabel, one of our tour guides, was talking about the traditional means of employment in Andalusia and added as a postscript that, of course, due to the crisis, current rates of unemployment were very high. She casually mentioned that her husband had been out of work for a year and a half and they weren’t expecting he would find work for another two years or so, so they were surviving on her part-time guide wage.
We drove through Malaga several times and I saw a number of shops closed and holiday houses and apartments for sale, though I was unsure whether this was normal for the winter season or a result of the crisis.
When I was leaving Barcelona, I spent half an hour talking to Oscar, my cabbie, as we fought our way through peak hour traffic to the airport. He had finished law but, unable to get a job as a lawyer, drives a taxi during the day. His older brother drives the night shift, he told me, having lost his job two years ago as a senior industrial engineer and having failed to secure another job despite attending over 200 interviews. Oscar’s wife also drives a taxi.
I’d noticed the empty billboards along the highways, but Oscar also pointed out that there were far fewer trucks on the roads, and that the new cars were stacking up in yards, unable to be sold.
Oscar spoke of the “lost generation” of youth, those who make up the 55 per cent unemployment statistic for 18 to 25 year olds, who may not work until they are in their mid to late 30’s, given how long the crisis may go on for.
“No superannuation, no mortgage… no self-esteem, no purpose. We will feel the real pain of the crisis in the future,” he told me. He mentioned his one year old baby and said that hopefully, by the time his child is 16, Spain’s economy would be healthy again.
As we approached the airport, Oscar asked me which airline I was flying with so he could drop me off at the correct terminal. When I mentioned I was flying Aegean Air and going to Greece he turned to me and said, “Aah. It’s much worse there. Spain is bad, but Greece is very bad.”