32
on parting, and I later began to receive letters from him from time to time,
together with his talks and political propaganda. I treasure these with great
affection. It is tragic how different, supremacist, and antiscientific is the discourse of today’s separatists.
Paris was an experience for me in every sense, and not just because of the
revelation that we are stardust. There I was, having been educated under
National Catholicism, weighed down with all the prejudices and suppressions
of Franco’s Spain, suddenly immersed in this magnificent city. My eyes were
opened wide to a new world. You can imagine my astonishment and excitement. Couples freely kissed passionately as they waited for traffic lights to
change. Nobody looked at them with disapproval, and no policeman intervened to fine them. Most daring films were being shown in the cinemas, and
there were amusing caricatures of the President of the Republic—General de
Gaulle himself!—that you could buy without the risk of imprisonment.
Unbelievable!
I had the good fortune to reside and work at the Paris Astrophysics Institute.
Through my dormitory window I could see the domes of the renowned
Observatoire in which so many astronomical discoveries had been made in
past centuries. It was located in the Latin Quarter itself, close to the Sorbonne,
the Panthéon, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, the Luxembourg Gardens,
etc.—a truly privileged site.
There was an air of coup d’état in France at the time. The country had
been shaken by the bloody excesses of the OAS (Organisation de l’Armée
Secrète) and Paris was under police control. I was greatly shocked to see
manned machine gun posts set up on sandbagged barricades at the
entrances to police stations and a number of public buildings. It was just
like a Second World War film. They even stopped me in the street and
demanded to see my passport as they prodded the barrel of a rifle against
my torso. It was far from amusing, but added a certain zest to my explorations of Paris.
Some years later, during another of my visits to Paris, I was again staying at
the Paris Astrophysics Institute and my visit chanced to coincide with the
May 1968 uprising. Living as I was in the Latin Quarter, I saw the beginning
of the protests with my own eyes: paving stones were being lifted from the
streets, and there were barricades and violent confrontations. I was so alarmed
that I took the last train back to Spain before they closed the frontier. I cannot, then, presume, like so many politicians of the Transition, to count myself
among the ‘French May’ heroes.
But back to ’62. Curiosity has always prompted me to find things out for
myself. Having little money and not minding walking, I set about getting to
F. Sánchez
on parting, and I later began to receive letters from him from time to time,
together with his talks and political propaganda. I treasure these with great
affection. It is tragic how different, supremacist, and antiscientific is the discourse of today’s separatists.
Paris was an experience for me in every sense, and not just because of the
revelation that we are stardust. There I was, having been educated under
National Catholicism, weighed down with all the prejudices and suppressions
of Franco’s Spain, suddenly immersed in this magnificent city. My eyes were
opened wide to a new world. You can imagine my astonishment and excitement. Couples freely kissed passionately as they waited for traffic lights to
change. Nobody looked at them with disapproval, and no policeman intervened to fine them. Most daring films were being shown in the cinemas, and
there were amusing caricatures of the President of the Republic—General de
Gaulle himself!—that you could buy without the risk of imprisonment.
Unbelievable!
I had the good fortune to reside and work at the Paris Astrophysics Institute.
Through my dormitory window I could see the domes of the renowned
Observatoire in which so many astronomical discoveries had been made in
past centuries. It was located in the Latin Quarter itself, close to the Sorbonne,
the Panthéon, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, the Luxembourg Gardens,
etc.—a truly privileged site.
There was an air of coup d’état in France at the time. The country had
been shaken by the bloody excesses of the OAS (Organisation de l’Armée
Secrète) and Paris was under police control. I was greatly shocked to see
manned machine gun posts set up on sandbagged barricades at the
entrances to police stations and a number of public buildings. It was just
like a Second World War film. They even stopped me in the street and
demanded to see my passport as they prodded the barrel of a rifle against
my torso. It was far from amusing, but added a certain zest to my explorations of Paris.
Some years later, during another of my visits to Paris, I was again staying at
the Paris Astrophysics Institute and my visit chanced to coincide with the
May 1968 uprising. Living as I was in the Latin Quarter, I saw the beginning
of the protests with my own eyes: paving stones were being lifted from the
streets, and there were barricades and violent confrontations. I was so alarmed
that I took the last train back to Spain before they closed the frontier. I cannot, then, presume, like so many politicians of the Transition, to count myself
among the ‘French May’ heroes.
But back to ’62. Curiosity has always prompted me to find things out for
myself. Having little money and not minding walking, I set about getting to
F. Sánchez