1992
Spain only lived with Juan Carlos and the royal family at the Zarzuela palace when he had to stay in Madrid, he also still owned his little house in Barcelona, but he lived in Seville ever since Franco died. When asked why, he simply shrugged and recited the song: "Sevilla tiene un color especial". Furthermore, he didn't live in a villa, or a detached home, not even a duplex. His apartment was so simple he didn't seem the nation but one of his millions of citizens. It was situated in a residential neighborhood, near the cathedral, a building with white and yellow facade.
When he and his visitor returned home after picking him up from the airport, the neighbors soon came out to gossip.
"Antoniooo!"
They didn't stop calling until he opened the window connected to the patio.
"Good morning, señoras!" he greeted them.
"You didn't come alone, truhán, let us see!" one of them said, Puri, who had curlers on.
"You always bring home the most handsome men in the world, we want to please our eyes!" another one of them, Camino, who was smoking a cigarette, said.
"What will your husbands say?" but Spain obliged and soon a second person was seen by his side. "This is Cuba."
Cuba waved his hand to the ladies who greeted him with an exclamation of delight.
"¡Ay, el cubanito!" Puri exclaimed, biting her under lip.
"No surprise Cubans are so handsome, with such a nation!" middle-aged Trini said.
"You have the same nose, and the same smile!" Camino observed.
"Isn't he cute?" Spain patted Cuba's back, showing him off. "He's the most beautiful thing in the world!"
"Hope you and your cubanito come visit us!"
"Hahaha, see you, ladies! More good-looking nations on the way!" With that Spain, closed the window and kept chuckling for a while. "Ah, these ladies..."
"So nice" Cuba smirked.
"Don't worry, they won't bother you. They are just curious—and a little bit horny."
"It's okay, you know people back home are quite similar."
"So, yeah, what was I saying? ...Ah. Yep. You can keep my bedroom, I will sleep in the sofa."
"You don't need to do that, it's your home..."
"But you're my guest, and my little brother, so if I say you're keeping the bed..."
"Okay, okay, alright. If that makes you feel better..."
"Good! I want you to be comfortable. You're my guest."
"You sure love having guests, I see..." Cuba observed, looking at the framed photos on the shelf. Posing with an inexpressive Sweden in Benidorm, in a concert with a barely recognizable England, both him and Spain dressed like they were rock singers, in a terrace with America, so relaxed they would have gone against the 'no shirt, no service' rule if Spain had actually cared about decorum, having dinner (and lots of alcohol) with France and Prussia in that same room...
"Hospitality links the guest, the host and God. That's what a wise man taught me once" Spain said, serving a couple of beers.
"That's a nice teaching..." Cuba said, sitting on the sofa to drink with Spain.
There was a moment of silence, Spain avoided looking at Cuba.
"...How have you been doing, Cuba?"
"...I've been okay..."
"Ah, good..."
"You've been watching television, haven't you? And talking to the other guys" Cuba stared at Spain, taking a cigar out of the pocket of his shirt. "I don't know what you've been hearing but..."
He paused to lit the cigarette. Spain finally looked at him.
"...I've been okay" Cuba concluded, taking a long drag.
"...Sure...Still...You know I'll always be there if you-"
"There is no need for that, Spain" Cuba interrupted him, and Spain looked away again, scratching his hand.
Another pause. Cuba took a few sips at his drink and smoked in silence.
"...But thank you..."
Spain looked at him with a little smile.
"No problem."
"...You know...I know I've been talking shit about you, just like the others..."
"It's okay, Cuba. There's no need to go over old ground."
"We've always known you cared about your little brother Romano more than anyone in the world, but..."
"Is that what you think?" Cuba glanced at Spain. "Funny. Because...let me tell you something, and I hope you don't tell Romano, but he's always been my little brother, yes, but for me you guys...you guys have been my children. And don't tell anybody, but...specially you."
Curro, the bird-like mascot, waved his hand at the group as they passed by.
"Everybody! Please! Come closer! Don't disperse!"
It was kind of hard to control that group of twenty children, but Spain thought he was managing well. Those boys and girls were so eager to see everything around them, so many colorful pavilions with music, food, dance and singing. He was excited too, but their teachers had put him in charge, so he had to be responsible.
"Do you hear that? That's Senegal, playing his drums! Let's go see!"
The children, cheering, followed Spain into the African Plaza pavilion. Right after coming in, they were met by a dark skinned man with little hair in his head who was playing the strangest instrument the children had ever seen in their short life.
"Heya, Senegal!"
"Hello, Spain, children" that nation had a very soft and sweet voice, and the children gazed at him fascinated.
"What is that instrument you're playing?" Spain asked him.
"It is called linga" and he played a few more notes. "We sometimes use this as a way to communicate between ourselves."
"How?" a little girl with ponytails asked.
"It is a bit like Morse."
"Can I try?" a boy with glasses asked.
"Of course, come here."
Senegal welcomed the boy and gave him the little mallets he had used to produce the sound.
"Mmmmh!" he hummed, listening to him hit the wooden object. "Not bad!"
"Can I, too?" a fat boy raised his hand.
"Very well, come here" Senegal replied, gesturing him to approach.
"That nation over there, the one who is speaking at the conference" Spain said to the children after saying goodbye to Senegal, "that is Congo. He's a very smart guy, I'm telling you. And this beauty here, she is Kenya."
"Oh, Spain...How do you say 'you rascal' in Spanish?" she chuckled.
"That pavilion over there is dedicated to Morocco, let's go!"
"Wow, it looks like a palace!" a girl observed.
"I know, right?" Spain smiled. "Morocco always liked pretty things. Ah, look who's here! Hello, Egypt!"
"Ah, hi" Egypt stopped for a moment.
"Ow!" a few children exclaimed, gazing at him in awe.
"Are you having a good time?" Spain asked him.
"Yep."
"Talkative as always. Have a nice day, see you! I'm leaving with my ducklings here!" Spain let him keep walking and resumed his walk too. "He doesn't talk much, but he also has a great brain. And you have no idea of the treasures his house holds..."
"What is that, Mr. Spain?" a boy pulled Spain's shirt to attract his attention to a big block in the distance.
"That's Finland's pavilion!"
"It looks so dark!"
"Yep, it was built to resemble the Throat of the Devil, in his home!"
"He must be a pretty dark person as well!"
"Absolutely! Oh! Here he is! Finland! Come here for a second, will you?"
The children were surprised to see that the pavilion was dedicated to the nicest-looking person they had ever seen.
"Moi!" Finland said to the children. "Where I am from, it means 'hello'!"
"Moi! Moi!" the children started repeating, making Finland giggle.
"Are you being good boys and girls? Because Santa Claus lives in my house, and he's a friend of mine!"
"Sure, we are!" the children replied to him.
"Ask him why he didn't bring me the remote controlled car I wanted this last Christmas!" the tallest boy of the group said.
Finland giggled again.
"I have to go now, see you, Spain!" he said, waving his hand at him.
"Bye, bye, Fin! I hope you're having a good time!" Spain said to him.
"Terrific so far!" was Finland's response before running away.
They got into Greece's pavilion first, and there the children listened sat on the ground around him the stories he knew about Zeus and the old gods and goddesses, which had his little audience in awe, paying so much attention Spain found it hypnotic. Then, they visited New Zealand's, who showed them the Maori dances they did at his house, and even instructed a volunteer in them. After that, they followed Japan, who wanted to show them a show with typical Japanese instruments and explained to them afterwards what their names were and how they were played.
"Look, that's Cuba's parade!" Spain pointed out.
The children, excited, ran to see it closely. He didn't know if they were learning much, but if they were having a good time, he was glad. He was enjoying this so much, too.
"Hey, Spain!" Estonia attracted his attention. Latvia and Lithuania were by his side; the three of them were eating ice cream.
"Hey, guys! How's it going?" Spain smiled at them.
"Thank you for inviting us, we just came from taking a walk around Seville and, wow, it's so, so nice" Latvia said.
"Thanks to you, for coming. You'll be attending the Olympics next month, right?" Spain asked.
"Sure! You can count on us!" Lithuania smiled.
"I always wanted to see Barcelona, after Russia spoke so much about making it his private resort when he conquered you..." Estonia commented.
"Come on, Estonia, what did I tell you? Don't speak about him! I don't want to hear about him! Let me eat ice cream in peace, without having to remember..." Latvia was complaining while the three of them walked away.
Spain chuckled and was about to join his children when something made him stop. Near there, there was a solitary stand, made of wood planks, not very well built. He approached with an eyebrow raised.
"Hi?"
"Hello, sir! Visit Sealand!" a little boy dressed in a very old-fashioned way, blond, with think eyebrows and blue eyes, gave him a flyer, which was evidently hand-drawn.
"Sealand?" Spain smiled. "Ah! I think I've heard about you..."
"England probably told you about me. All lies! He says I'm not a real nation, but I am!"
"Hehe, sure..."
"There are millions of tourists here, and I'm going to sell my merchandise and promote my house. I'll become a touristic attraction, and get big and rich, and I'll kick England's butt for-"
"I've been told a boy dressed like a sailor kicked the ass of one of our Curros...Do you know what I am talking about?" Spain crossed his arms.
"No idea. But that guy probably deserved it."
"...Okay, you can stay..." Spain felt in an excellent mood, so he just walked away, smiling.
In late July and the beginning of August, the Olympics started, and Spain had the chance to see his international friends once again, this time in Barcelona. From the tribune, he saw that all preparations were worth it: it was perfect. Simply perfect. Well, he was so sad Freddy Mercury passed away and he couldn't sing with Montserrat Caballé at the show, but he was glad he had seen them together in 1988—it felt as if God's angels had descended to earth to delight them. But as for everything else, it was simply fantastic. That moment when Paralympic archer Antonio Rebollo lit the flame with a burning arrow? Simply swell.
"Holy cow, America is beating our asses in everything" Romano complained.
"Almost everything" Spain smiled at him.
"Oh, yeah, Germany's also stealing all medals."
"Hah! Take that, you assholes! I am the golden boy!" Prussia yelled, flipping off everyone around him.
"Shut up, pasmao, your brother is winning all of them, not you, you're not even a real country anymore!" Cuba mocked him, an arm still around Spain.
"You prick..." Prussia frowned.
"Hey, not to my little brother, man, eh?" Spain shook a finger severely.
"Wow, China is doing an amazing job too, did you see?" Cuba commented.
"True! Fourth place! Not bad!" Spain nodded.
"Hey, Spain!" China tapped Spain's shoulder with his finger. Talking about the devil. "Before I forget, when the competition is over you and I have to sit and talk about business, okay?"
Spain was handed a card he gazed at with a smile.
"Oh! Did you have a good time?"
"Yes! Thanks a lot!" China raised a thumb and winked before disappearing again.
"Look at you, Mr. Popular..." Romano crossed his arms and legs.
"Are you jealous, my boy?" Spain chuckled, squeezing his face, making him look like a fish.
"Leave me alone, cazzo! Nobody likes you! We're only here for the cheap alcohol and the weather!"
That was probably true, but still, this was being the best summer of Spain's life. Surrounded by so many amazing people, learning from them, teaching them about his culture...That summer, he felt a warmth he had never felt before.
«Amigos para siempre means you'll always be my friend» Sarah Brightman and José Carreras sang for the international audience. «Amics per sempre means a love that cannot end / Friends for life, not just a summer or a spring / Amigos para siempre / I feel you near me even when we are apart / Just knowing you are in this world can warm my heart / Friends for life / Not just a summer or a spring / Amigos para siempre»
Woo! I reached the year I was born! Concretely, I was born close to the end of the Olympic Games in Barcelona, the first time (and only so far) we have hosted the Games. It was a special time not only for Spain, concretely Barcelona, but it was also remarkable because those were the first time the Baltic nations participated after becoming independent from Russia, Germany as a reunified nation, and South Africa participated with the end of the Apartheid. The song for these games was "Amigos para siempre", "Friends for life", and it is a sign of how Spain was now making a name for itself abroad, with new friends from all around the world. The Expo of Seville, the same year, also contributed to this. It was a massive event which also changed the city and helped the world discover our country, as well as we got to know different cultures. After all, the motto was 'The Age of Discovery', because there were references to the 5th anniversary to the discovery of America.
Also, little notes: Cubans do have this powerful appeal in our country! And I think it was around this time when we started having an intense commercial relationship with China. Today, the Chinese are some of the most appreciated immigrants in our country: their stores are a real life-saver, very popular, there are celebrations for the Chinese New Year, specially in some parts of Madrid (I saw a few months ago the trains of the subway decorated like an oriental dragon in their honor), one of the biggest distribution places in all of Europe is in Fuenlabrada (Madrid), the Chinese are considered hard working and honest, with very low crime rate compared to other immigrants, and in this coronavirus outbreak hospitals have been receiving very generous donations of material from Chinese people.
