Assuming that we are already coming out of this plague, we do not make it better or stronger, but identical. So so. Neither that uncertainty nor that fragility that was so invoked in March 2020 have made the screams become hesitant, nor the certainties, doubts. The proof is that we pick up the political debates where we left them: Catalonia first, Catalonia second and, if there is room, Catalonia dessert.
The only ones oblivious to the cackling are the tourists who are beginning to arrive at their summer barracks. They do embrace uncertainty and fragility with the same enthusiasm with which they embrace the streetlights or let themselves fall from the balconies of Magaluf. A couple of weeks ago, in the center of Malaga, I had to give way to two copies of Británicus etílicus who, possessed by the divine gift of drunkenness, collapsed and crawled into the hotel. Normality is already here, commented my friends from Malaga, who had made illusions of abnormality.
Tourists return by the millions, and to celebrate it, this Tuesday opens The Mallorca Files (Cosmo), a series that, said in poetic language, hits him in the Brexitized United Kingdom. The thing is about two policemen (she, English; he, German) who help Spanish cops solve crimes in Anglo and German-speaking Mallorca. They are followed by eight million spectators and the Balearic government, which understands paradoxes better than many philosophers, considers it a great propaganda asset: people like to spend the summer in places that are presented as the quagmire of the underworld. Many mayors already know that the best way to promote their town is to have their own noir, with a serial killer and offal. Better than the Romanesque or the spas.
This is how we are, neither better nor stronger, but entertained.
You can follow EL PAÍS TELEVISIÓN on Twitter or sign up here to receive our weekly newsletter.