Lessons of Life

Santander, Spain, August 1978.

In August 1978, I studied Spanish at the summer school of the University of Santander to improve my language skills. In the coming school year, I intended to take my A-levels as a mature student, and one of the examination subjects would be Spanish. Our Spanish teacher at the School for Adult Education in Berlin had suggested this summer language course as exam preparation. He probably had the impression that we urgently needed it. So five of my classmates and I spent the summer in Santander.

From Monday to Friday, we had four hours of lessons in the morning. Afterwards, we could do homework or explore the city, its surroundings, and the country's culture.

I was 24 years old, in Spain for the first time and fascinated by everything I saw and experienced.

As money was tight, my classmates and I decided to stay at the local campsite for the duration of our stay.

Before we left, I bought a small one-person tent for 59 DM in Berlin. My little kingdom didn't have a desk where I could do my homework, but I still enjoyed camping. In the evenings, someone from my friends always cooked. Unfortunately, I hadn't brought any cooking utensils, so I had to be satisfied with what was offered. Depending on the cook, it was either rice with onions and a sausage cut into it or fried potatoes with tomato ketchup. Well, not the most exquisite Spanish cuisine, but cheap. And that's what mattered.

The north is often called green Spain because you find lush landscapes and mountains here in contrast to the relatively barren rest of Spain.

And that is no coincidence, as we soon discovered. After a week, it started to rain heavily. Then, after a few days of rain, the campsite was muddy. Eventually, not only was my small tent and all my stuff wet but my tent was also torn from its moorings at night and washed away - with me inside. My friends' bigger tents held up better.

I was fed up with camping in the wet. So I hung up my tent to dry in the campsite's sanitary area and looked for another place to stay. Fellow students arranged a room for me in a Spanish family. It was okay and affordable.

I got a latte in the morning before I went to the university. My room had a big bed, and I suspected that the landlord couple had vacated their bedroom and were sleeping with their children. They didn't want to miss out on a little extra income like that.

Sometimes my bedding smelled of someone else's sweat, and I assumed that the man of the house was taking his siesta in my (sorry, his) bed while I was at university. But that hardly bothered me. The main thing was that I was dry.

15th August, the day of the Assumption of Mary, is also a holiday in Spain. My landlady and her whole family planned to visit her sister, and she informed me they would stay away overnight. Her brother would be in the flat during that time to look after things. He could also make me breakfast in the morning. Okay. I saw no problem at all with this arrangement.

When I came home in the evening, this flat guardian watched TV in the living room. He was happy to see me and invited me to sit beside him on the couch. But I didn't feel like making small talk, especially as I had seen a half-empty bottle of brandy on the table. "No thanks," I said kindly, "I'm tired and need to go to bed." But that didn't go down well with him. He insisted that I sit down, which I reluctantly did.

It wasn't long before he moved closer and closer and put his arm around me. This was now clearly too much. His glazed eyes stared at me and examined my body from top to bottom. Some saliva dripped from his open mouth. I resolutely tried to wriggle out of his embrace and got up to go to my room. However, despite his drunkenness, he was quicker and stood in front of the door at his full width to block my entrance.

What was I to do now? How could I extricate myself from this situation?

I slowly walked back and sat on the couch, smiling at him. That worked. That was how he liked it. He grinned and staggered towards me. I ducked, quickly slipped under his outstretched arms and ran into the bedroom. Quickly I wanted to lock the door, but there was no key. There was no time for fright and panic and headiness. I quickly pushed the heavy chest of drawers in front of the door without thinking twice, just in time. He drummed his fists against the door and yelled that I should kindly open up for him and let him in.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Let him keep banging on the door! I felt safe behind my barricade. After a while, he gave up, and it became quieter. Only the television was blaring away.

Still, sleep was out of the question. I was too upset. What was this guy thinking?! What did he think of me? And who gave him the right to behave like that?! Even then, I couldn't understand that some men didn't understand the principle "No means no!".

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, it was already light. I had to go to the toilet urgently. But could I dare leave the room? Or would that libertine be lurking outside the door and overpowering me? I fervently hoped that he was sleeping it off at this hour. Finally, my need became more urgent, and I had no choice but to take the risk.

Carefully and as quietly as possible, I pushed the heavy chest of drawers back to its original place and opened the door carefully. And sure enough, the guy was hanging on the couch, snoring and fast asleep.

Quietly, on tiptoe, I crept past him to the toilet. Then I packed up a few things and left the flat. I could do without breakfast that morning. I had something else planned.

I wanted to go on an excursion alone. For this purpose, I had rented a bicycle for this day. Relieved that my escape had worked, I pedalled off.

Soon I was out of town and riding along the little-used country road past fields and meadows. Wonderful! Life was back in order. I enjoyed my trip.

Enjoying the lovely landscape

Later, the road led me along the beach. The sun was shining hot. Since no one was around (maybe they were all at church), I took off my dress and cycled in my bikini. I felt great and happy about the sun and the breeze on my skin.

After a while, I cycled along a path between fields separated by small walls or hedges. This was a bit awkward, as I had to dismount each time and heave my bike over the barrier. But what does that matter when you are otherwise so full of joy and love of life? I whistled a little song as I cycled along.

At one of these little walls, helpful arms came towards me and lifted the bike and me over the obstacle. The helpful arms belonged to two men, one a teenager, the other in his mid-30s, whom I had not seen before. They were exuberant in their efforts to rid me of any ballast because as they lifted me over, they took off my bikini simultaneously.

What are you doing? No! Not again! I pulled up my bikini panties in a flash and held my bike protectively in front of my body. "No! No! No! Not with me!" I made them understand loudly and audibly.

But they didn't want to hear it, didn't want to understand it and didn't care what I wanted or didn't want. So they continued to grope me, and it was obvious where this was going. I was in a precarious situation. What could I do?

There was no one around, no one who could help me. But these two guys couldn't know that. So I took a deep breath and let out a loud shrill, and long scream. Iiiiiiiiihhhh!!!! I was amazed at myself. I hadn't even known I could do such a thing. However, my cry had no effect initially, so I let out another one. I screamed again, louder and longer. The two looked at each other, perplexed, shrugged and finally disappeared over the hedges.

I lifted my bike back over the wall with unimagined strength. I hurriedly put on my dress and cycled for all I was worth. Away from here! Away from this supposed idyll, back to civilisation.

Exploring the lovely area by bike

When I arrived in the next village, a little boy was sitting in the street playing with stones. I sat with him for a while, out of breath. Then tears came to my eyes. It looked so innocent, the way this child was playing. The contrast with my experiences of the last few hours simply stunned me. After a while, I calmed down, got on my bike and rode back to town.

I visited my friends at the campsite. They were sitting together, fooling around, laughing boisterously and carefree. Men, it went through my mind how good men have it. They would never experience what I had just gone through. They had no idea of what it was like for women and girls. They wouldn't understand that as a woman, you always had to be on your guard, always dressed discreetly so as not to provoke men.

I couldn't laugh with them that day. The silly jokes didn't work on me. On the contrary, they made me sad.

I left, packed my tent, which had dried and went home, hoping the family was back and that I would not have to reencounter the libertine brother.

I didn't tell anyone about these experiences, but I learned my lesson; important lessons of life.

(LL.)