s a Brit who has lived in Spain for almost a decade, I must take issue with Zoe Strimpel’s recent article arguing that it’s the ‘worst country […] in western Europe’, at least as a holiday destination. My four years in Granada and almost five in Malaga have shown me that it’s the best place in western Europe to live – but not because of anything to do with ‘progressive’ politics or a Gen-Z dating trend.

The ‘buzzing terraces’ that Strimpel praises for distracting customers from horrible tapas aren’t just for tourists – they’re an integral part of the Spanish lifestyle. Life in Spain is lived outdoors, not shuttered away in heated rooms, hiding from the cold and rain. This means that people aren’t isolated in the way they tend to be in countries with harsher weather. Spanish streets and squares are noisy, friendly places, where you hardly ever see violence or drunkenness. And because the cost of living is generally low, especially in the south, you can live well without the pressure of having to pull in a huge salary.

It is often said – usually by northern Europeans, Brits, and Americans – that Spaniards are lazy. And they seem to have a point. Employees in shops, banks, and even hospitals leave their stations for breakfast around 10 a.m.; high street shops close on Saturday afternoons, Sundays, and for three hours in the middle of every weekday; banks, administrative buildings, and post offices are never open past 2 p.m., and local bus services often don’t operate at weekends. Most towns and villages are deserted between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m., during which period everyone knows to respect the siesta hour.

Such things can be frustrating, especially for expats accustomed to cities where anything is available at any time. But these customs aren’t due to laziness. They show, rather, that Spaniards don’t prioritise work above everything else. Equal importance is accorded to socialising with friends and family, especially during the week-long festivals in summer. Spaniards are experts in extracting pleasure and connection from the most humdrum aspects of daily life, which is one of the main reasons living in Spain is so enjoyable.

The lamentable state of Spanish politics won’t make any difference to a holiday in Spain, though. If you’re inwardly fuming at Vox or Pedro Sanchez as you trek through the mountains of Granada’s Sierra Nevada, swim off the wild

beaches of Cadiz, or wander amongst the arches of Cordoba’s Mezquita, it’s not because political nastiness has contaminated every aspect of society. It’s because you need a serious break from reading the news.

I do agree with Strimpel on two points, though, the first of which regards politics. Spain is, as she says, ‘nasty’ in this respect. As in many other European countries, a so-called liberal left postures as a moral guardian and defender of democracy against the march of the ‘far right’ (that is, absolutely anything right of centre). But if we’re talking about politicians who thrive on polarisation, swapping reasoned debate for pointless hostility, Spain is no worse, or at least not much worse, than anywhere else, including the UK and US.

I also agree to some extent with Strimpel about Spanish food. Yes, it can be oily and carb-heavy. Bread and potatoes accompany most main courses, and vegetables, especially of the green variety, rarely appear on menus. Many dishes are deep-fried and very dry, as sauces aren’t really a Spanish speciality. To a large extent, though, food is a matter of personal taste. And in cities such as Madrid, Malaga, and San Sebastian, the culinary scene is world-class. San Sebastian, in fact, is ranked third in the world for Michelin stars per capita, behind Luxembourg and Kyoto.

Speaking of cities, Strimpel says she finds Spain’s offering ‘dire’. Even allowing for the subjectivities of taste (and the presence of foul-smelling drains outside hotel rooms), I find it hard to imagine what kind of city would appear beautiful and romantic to someone who’s unmoved by Granada, Cordoba, or Seville. What criteria of aesthetic appeal is at work here? Surely a highly specific one that would also exclude most other major European cities.

Finally, I sympathise with Strimpel’s dislike of bullfighting. But of course, if you’re opposed to it, you don’t have to go. One reason I moved to southern Spain was to be able to attend bullfights frequently – although, like everyone else who regards themselves as an aficionado, I go to witness art, not ‘bay’ for blood. Whether I am thrilled or disgusted by what occurs in the ring, though, it always makes me feel; and sometimes on those strange, intense afternoons, I love Spain more than ever.