That's the way the small merchants like it. And they'll fight to keep it that way, to the surprise of Americans accustomed to service on demand.
Ninety percent of Madrid's small businesses closed shop for a day in January to protest government taxes and laws they say are unfair to the small businessperson. Their principal complaint: a 1985 law that liberalized business hours, crippling their ability to compete with the superstores which have proliferated in the last decade.
Although the European Economic Community's common market officially began in 1993, consumerism remains at odds with some of Spain's fundamental cultural values. A local proverb goes, ``If wine interferes with your business, set aside your business.'' But families who run their own shops, increasingly, can no longer afford to live by such mores.
Growing tensions between a dying breed of small shopkeepers and large retail chains culminated in the January 25 business shutdown. Protesters took to the plazas of Madrid and several southern cities. The national newspaper El Pais reported that the largest demonstration occurred in Seville, site of last year's Expo '92 Worlds Fair. According to organizers, 10,000 participated in the Seville rally, although the police put the number at 2,000.
The event included the presentation of a petition in favor of mandatory closing of the superstores on Sundays and holidays. In fact, some of Spain's autonomous regional governments, such as Catalonia, the Basque Country, Valencia, Aragon and Galicia, have already enacted their own restrictions on hours of commercial activity.
An El Pais reporter covering the strike commented dryly, ``Well, good, this closing will cause thousands of Madrid's citizens to buy their milk or oil in Continente, Jumbo, El Corte Ingles, Alcampo, Pryca and the like. Many of those who had not known the amplitude of their offerings perhaps will become new customers. Some secret agent is doing a good job.''
Tourists certainly appreciate department stores like El Corte Ingles. When the banks and tourist offices are closed, they will hand you a free city map and change currency. They'll accept your credit card. Management even pipes in soothing elevator music.
The Spanish economy is feeling the pinch. In 1980, small businesses numbered 584,000. In 1993, only 514,000 remain, according to the Spanish Business Confederation.
Footwear is one of the only specialty sectors that has actually seen growth. At the same time, Spaniards seem to walk less these days, judging from one report which attributes the success of superstores to increased car usage.
Often springing up on cheaper land on the outskirts of town, the superstores cater to car-drivers who can carry home greater quantities in less time. In the past ten years, supermarkets and department stores offering wider selection and longer hours have lured many customers from their neighborhood markets.
Yet the small shops remain a significance presence in the Spanish society. Traditional, family-run operations still serve a loyal, local clientele. Many housewives shop daily and on foot, walking from store to store, buying the day's bread at her favorite panaderia, meat at the carniceria and fruit at the fruteria.
Many Spaniards may lack, or disdain, the convenience of the ubiquitous American superstore, but they have managed, so far, to avoid something else. Mall culture, as we Americans know it, simply does not exist. Social life continues to revolve around the streets and plazas, even if the strollers are increasingly likely to only be window shopping.
Sometimes the bustling sidewalks seem are an obstacle course. Arm-linked women are prone to suddenly stop and admire the overpriced sweaters in a boutique window. ``Ay!'' Every few blocks, a man wearing lottery tickets around his neck sings out, dangling out a chance at fortune, ``Pah-dah OY!''
In this transition from small shops to superstores there is something of an irony. For nearly two decades, American urban planners have fought to reverse some of the changes that Spain is perhaps now starting to undergo. In Baltimore's Harbor Place and New York's South Street Seaport architects have attempted to recreate the thriving, urban, cobblestone market street. In Spain, they still have the real thing.
Since shedding a dictatorship in the 1970s, Spain has, in many ways, hurried into the new world order of democracy and its apparent traveling companion, commerce. As they prepare to enter the European Community, Spaniards -- particularly middle class Spaniards -- seem to want many of the same material conveniences that their counterparts in America and Northern Europe take for granted.
I wouldn't want to deny this to them. After all, I appreciate the ability to jump in the car and make one quick, inexpensive trip for groceries. But I hope that convenience won't mean the Spanish will trade in their vital urban culture for a strip mall future.
Jen Pique (73243.32@compuserve.com) is a frequent visitor to Spain.