Since I was born in 1977, I’ve been living in Galicia. I grew up surrounded by its landscapes, its culture, and its traditions. I’ve always felt supported and loved by its people, and I’ve enjoyed its incredible cuisine, its festivals, and its retranca, that unique, subtle sense of humor. Galicia is a land with a strong personality that slowly takes hold of you, and in the end, everything that happens here feels deeply personal.
Since those early years, everything has evolved, and our way of life has had to adapt. We’ve gone from black-and-white televisions with a single channel, like the one my grandparents had, to having internet access with unlimited information at our fingertips. From the narrow, poorly paved roads we used to take to the nearest city, we can now reach any point on the Iberian Peninsula in just a few hours. Local, traditional cuisine has gone international, and English, once an exotic and distant language, is now ever-present, even if we still speak it just as poorly.
Life has changed dramatically. No matter which aspect you look at, everything is vastly different. One of the changes I’ve found hardest to accept is the shift in the world of work. Everything has become much more complex, more difficult, and far more precarious. Farming, once a physically demanding job, has now replaced muscle pain with headaches, thanks to bureaucracy and endless spreadsheets. The industrial fabric, once thriving, has also faded away, sacrificed to the forces of free markets and globalization. Today, all that remains of those factories that once promised prosperity are their skeletal remains. I admit they offer a wealth of photographic potential, but behind their visual beauty lies a sad and bitter reality. I miss that industry, and I hope that, in time, it will find its way back into our lives.
