Things got a little out of hand at one of my occasional haunts over the long weekend. Police and drunk, bored kids generally make a recipe for trouble, and trouble it was: the news has been filled with great (by which I mean “highly newsworthy”) pictures of flaming piles of rubbish and cops charging around in fluorescent jackets. Thankfully I’m telling this second-hand. I was busy dodging my students at a club in another part of the city and stayed well away from the action.
On Monday night the cops rolled into Malasaña, a popular inner city suburb, to clear out the groups of youths engaging in “the big bottle” – clustering in the street and drinking to varying degrees of excess. Instead of quietly handing over their ID cards, sucking up the scorching 350 euro fine for drinking in the street and moving along, the drinkers decided to kick up a stink. Cue up-turned dumpsters, bonfires, and police batons flying indiscriminately.

On Tuesday night the festivities continued. The evening began with police standing guard around the plaza that was the centre of Monday’s disturbances. From what I can determine, they stood there as the surrounding streets filled with drinking youths. I’m not sure what is stupider – that the cops spent a couple of hours just watching the kids tipping cartons of sangria down their throats, or that the kids sat down and drank under the police’s nose. The award, though, has to go to the smart fellows who started throwing things at the police. Surprise, surprise, the police responded by throwing their batons around, fairly mercilessly by the sounds of it, and called in some very heavy-handed Riot Squad reinforcement.

Chaos ensued: tear gas, rubber bullets, up-turned dumpsters, bonfires, burnt cars, destroyed scooters, eight people arrested and 46 wounded.

This ruckus had no political motivation – unlike the supposed race riots in Alcorcón back in January. But I reckon the underlying causes should be addressed. The reason drinking in the street is so institutionalised here is because young people have few other options for places to socialise. Teenagers and twenty-somethings here are pretty poorly paid, on the whole. So they’re generally unable to afford to go to concerts or bars, and it’s not unusual for them to live at home with their parents – in flats tiny by comparison to New Zealand houses – until their late twenties. They want to get out of the house, but can’t afford to go anywhere, and end up hanging out in the street.

But then again, no-one’s forcing these kids to fill themselves with alcohol on the street: their choices are limited, but they do exist.

By the way: the headline is a lyric from a song by Manu Chao. It translates as “I like Malasaña, I like you”.

Other posts by Katie Llanos-Small