All language subtitles for 1978 - In Praise of Older Women-eng

En Brazos De La Mujer Madura

The situation in Spain is getting
more critical day by day.

Anarchy reigns in fields and towns.

The revolutionary spirit of the masses,
deceived by Soviet agents,

is joined by
a malicious and negligent government

that wants to turn
Spain into a colony of Moscow.

Spaniards, our country is in danger.

To save it, the military
is in charge now.

Andalusian troops obey generals
and keep vigilance of the streets.

Galician garrisons dominate,
with ease, a few other revolutionaries.

The Civil Guard and riflemen
have aligned themselves

with the national army to save us.

We're still waiting to see what happens
in Madrid and Cataluña

due to the fact
that their destinies are tied

to politicians that have not
properly governed Spain.

But we've taken our risks
and it will be useless

for Spain to resist...

Haven't you heard?

Our troops have been taken
over in Cataluña.

Unless God forbids it, the reds are going
to hunt us down like rabbits.

Holy Virgin of Saragossa!

Let's go. Let's go!
Pack your suitcases with only the essentials.

Close windows and shutters.
Shut all the lights off.

You wake the kids up.
Don't give them any explanations.

Tell them to get dressed, take their
things and run down to the chapel.

Immediately!

My dear sons, the glorious
Spanish Army has declared war against

the atheist and communist government.

Unfortunately, for our school
and all of us,

Cataluña continues
to be in the hands of the Reds.

Let us hope in God
that this won't last too long.

What's happening?

- Haven't you heard? We're at war.
- War?

For the moment, our school is closed
and you will return to your homes.

Your parents will agree
with my decision, I'm sure.

And I hope that, God willing,

we'll see each other again
in September.

And now, before we go
our ways,

we will put our lives in the hands
of The Divine Providence.

In the name of the Father,
the son, and the holy spirit, amen.

The Lord's Prayer:

"Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come..."

May God bless you all.
It will be better if you disperse.

Each one go a separate way,
thus it will be less suspicious.

Don't forget we're in enemy territory.

Okay, go. Good-bye.

Gentlemen,

not a word
to anybody about your school.

Forget that you were
in boarding school.

Erase it from your mind. If anybody
asks, you were on a field trip.

Avoid getting in town.

Go directly to the train station
via the short cut, understand?

Go, go, go.

Bonet! Bonet!

What are you waiting for?

Go with the others.

Would this be enough
to get me to La Coruña?

But you live in Gerona.

My mom is on vacation there.

Galicia has been taken over.

Communications with La Coruña
are probably cut.

You probably have relatives
or friends in Gerona.

Let's go, Bonet.

Go to them for a few days.
This situation will not last long.

Go to Gerona.
Go to Gerona!

Go to Gerona.

It was July, 1936.

That morning, on my bike,
I was happy.

I was going to be alone
for the first time .

I didn't have to answer to anyone.
I was free to come and go.

Everything seemed like
an adventure to me.

Viva the revolution!
Viva!

Get in the car!

Are you going to make me?

What do you think this is?

- Hurry, get inside!
- Move it!

Manuel! Manuel!

I'm Andrés.

What are you doing here?

Who's in my house?

The janitor.

I'll let you in.

So as to keep the apartment,
the janitor reported your mother

for going to mass
and being a fascist.

It's a good thing
she's in La Coruña.

If they had caught her here, imagine what
could have happened to her.

But I have to get my wallet--

Are you crazy?
Things are turned upside down.

Besides, the janitor
can shoot you.

And do you know what?
I'm sure he already found it.

How will I get to La Coruña?

Impossible!

I'm following the news
over the radio

and this is the situation:

The military have won in Galicia,
Old Castile, Leon, Navarra

and part of Andalusia.

Catalonia, Levante, New Castile
and most of Andalusia

have betrayed the revolt.

With Spain split in two,
how can you go from Gerona to La Coruña?

Let's see.

That's easy.
I go to France,

and come back through Navarra.

How naive!

When there's war,
the borders are shut down.

Spain is at war.

What can I do?

Stay here and we'll see.

What do you want to see?

Wars amongst relatives
are everlasting.

What are you doing?

I'll fix the flat and go.

- Where?
- To the other zone.

Hold it.

Get your suitcase.

Come on.

- What's your name?
- Andrés Vila Flórez.

- Flórez or Flores?
- Flórez.

- Where are you coming from?
- Barcelona.

- Where are you going?
- To the front.

What the hell for?

I want to fight against fascism.

What balls!

- Your mother?
- Where is she?

In France.

She was scared.
but I didn't go with her.

So, she's a fascist.

- Your father?
- He's dead.

- How old are you?
- 17.

The truth.

Almost 16.

You'll go to the kitchen.

I want to defend
the Republic.

You can do that
peeling potatoes.

To the kitchen.

First you kill and pluck it.
We'll make rice.

- Kill it? How?
- Like this.

Good morning.

Here comes Miss Spain!

Attention!
Present arms!

If you start with your jokes,
I'll leave.

You make fun of me.

I'm going to smother you
with kisses. Here.

This is real meat,
not like the rest.

You're tickling me!

Delicious.
Let's air these tits a little.

You think we country girls
are like the girls in Barcelona?

Well, we're not.

Who cares about Barcelona?
I like Aragonese women.

You, above all.
You know I love you.

- You want to take advantage.
- Who, me?

I'll marry you, in church,
whenever you want.

- Sure you will!
- I won't?

- Father, come here!
- He's no priest.

Look at his bald spot.

Why wasn't he shot?

He no longer believes in God.
He'll marry us and we can go to bed.

If he doesn't,
the wedding isn't valid.

Honorio, leave me alone!

- You'll get me angry.
- You drive me crazy.

Don't tickle me!

Stop that!

Tomorrow I won't bring
any supplies!

- What are you looking at?
- Nothing.

Get out of the way!

Take the luggage inside.

Come on.

I'm sorry but I don't
speak your language.

I told him
I don't speak English.

She says it's an outrage.

How do you know?

They're dukes
and they're going to London.

What is it?

English, on their way
to London.

- What are you doing here?
- He speaks English.

You speak English?

Fantastic.

Tell them they have to stay
at the inn.

We'll check with Barcelona
and, if they're clean,

they can continue their trip.

Tell her the car has been
requisitioned by the army.

Lady, this telephone is only
for talking to the trenches.

Paco, let's go.

No, that stays here.

Move it.

Those female aristocrats
are lovely.

Aren't they?

After the Antifascist Committee Treaty
with the Generalitat,

a 40-hour working week
has been established.

Get the luggage.

Thank you.

Where's Dávalos?

Where else?
Taking a nap.

The Countess?

- What the hell does she want?
- She says it's very important.

She looks beautiful.

- Where is she?
- In the car.

Beware of female aristocrats.

They're delightful.

- What?
- Do you know why she's here?

Yes, for the passports.

She wants to continue
her journey.

W-What?

If you give her
the passports, she'II...

She says you're attractive.

Tell her I'm not for sale.

Fine.

- Well?
- Let's go!

So, she's going to fuck him.

Move it! Move it!

I reached the front
by coincidence,

and was sure
I wouldn't be there long.

But I started to experience
so many new things,

that finding my mother
was becoming less important.

The fascists!

That's why you're lame.

Here's your mess!

Here.

Next!

I can't see anyone.

Good, we'll be at ease.

Listen,

if anyone goes to the other zone,
do you shoot?

Of course.

Have you killed anyone?

It's harder to kill
in war than in peace.

The enemy is alert,
and crouches.

- But my father...
- Has he killed anyone?

- Fascists, right?
- Employers' gunmen.

In Barcelona,
with the yellow unions.

Look!
Someone's out there.

Look.
Like a little housewife.

- Aren't you going to shoot?
- Sure.

If I shoot, the fascists get pissed off
and raise a ruckus.

Let that bastard
do his wash.

This war will never end.

Good. This isn't bad.

Laying around all day,
with your rabbit stew,

your wine and your cigarettes.

It'll be a different story
when winter comes round.

By releasing my anxieties,
the Duchess calmed my fervor

of surprising women.

Although that was just
a passion relief

because I was still as virgin,
as before.

Here she comes.

- Tell her I'm not in.
- Sure.

- Hello!
- Hi.

- Where's Honorio?
- I don't know.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

- How about a peach?
- Okay.

I get sad at times too.

When will Honorio be back?

What's that?

May I have this dance, miss?

You dope, lame people
can't dance.

How's this?

Who are they?

Fascists. They're going to be shot.

Dávalos is fantastic.

They wanted confession,
so he called me.

They even kissed my hand.

Get ready.

- Long live Spain!
- Long live Christ Our King!

They were undercover Falangists

who wanted to blast the power plant
and killed the guard.

What else could Dávalos do?

Well, didn't you want
to kill fascists?

I've never believed you.

Come on.
Why not tell me the truth?

My mother is in La Coruña.

- And I...
- And you wanted to cross the lines

to join her.

Forget that idea.

You'll find your mother,
when the lousy war is over.

It'll never end.

Everything ends in life.

Although, if you stay here,

you may not see the end of it.

The rebels are concentrating troops
and blood will be shed.

Do you know what
we're going to do?

I'm sending you to my home.

Come on.

Make way!

Take a bath
and use this scouring pad.

God knows the lice
you've got, poor child!

Yes, Madam.

The damned wars
make us all suffer.

But without wars,
what would the military do?

How's my sour puss husband doing
with the anarchists?

Fine.

I hope the union
and the anarchists show him

the world is not a barracks.

Here's clean pajamas.

I'll scald your clothes
for you tomorrow.

Thank you.

Go on.

I can imagine your mother
without any news from you.

Poor woman.

You know what we'll do?

Appeal to the Red Cross.

- Maybe they could help.
- Who knows?

It's not that I want
to get rid of you.

A man at home is never a hindrance.
We love having you.

- Right, Julia?
- Yes.

She's like her father,
as serious as a notary.

Maybe you could write to her
through the Red Cross.

Imagine how happy
that would make her.

- Sure.
- You're not very talkative.

What young people!
At your age...

- I was never quiet.
- Now either, Mom.

You're right.
If I were mute, I'd explode.

- He must miss that battalion.
- No, I'm very happy here.

To get away from home,
men even prefer to go to the front.

- Come on, Mom!
- What have you against him?

- Nothing, it's against you.
- What do you mean?

Keep on pretending you don't know
why Dad sent him here.

- He was in danger and...
- That's a lie!

You've always wanted a son,
but you've never loved me!

Stop.

Say you're my cousin.
She's distrustful.

- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.

- What are you doing here?
- Isn't today the 15th?

Who's that?

A cousin of mine
who's brought me on his bike.

- How's your father?
- Fine.

- And your mother?
- She sends you regards.

Fuck!

You think this
is the promised land.

You are always complaining.

You don't know the sacrifices
we have to make.

What's worse, you don't know
how to appreciate that.

Potatoes. Bacon.

These tomatoes are fantastic.
And now a little straw.

The eggs go on top.

Don't break them.

If one breaks,
my mother'll kill me.

If you get caught,
I don't know you.

If you say anything,
I go to jail.

But you don't eat.

Don't worry.

How much do I owe you?

Seven pesetas.

And I lose money!

She's very distrustful.

Yes.

In the battalion we used
to take food from the peasants.

A girl used to bring some,

but she was in love
with the cook.

- How dumb!
- Why?

- I'll never fall in love.
- You can't be sure.

- Why not?
- I don't know.

One day you'll meet a guy,
and even if you don't want to,

you'll fall in love.

Stop.

Let me do the talking.

- Greetings!
- Greetings!

Where are you coming from?

- El Prat.
- Going to Barcelona?

Yes.

What's that?

Doing business with
the people's hunger? Your papers!

You were in Davalos' battalion?

Yes.

Forget that.
He's one of ours.

Your girlfriend?

Yes.

Very pretty.

- Do you want to give her a nice gift?
- Sure!

I haven't thanked you.

Luckily you were with me.

Had I been alone...

It's beautiful.

- Is it your size?
- I don't know.

- Do you want me to try it on?
- Yes.

Don't look.

You can look now.

Do you like it?

I like you.

I don't believe you.

Want me to prove it?

Let's see.

What do you like the most?

My eyes?
My lips?

My hair?
My body?

My legs?

Everything.

What's the matter?

I've never done it.

Come here.

You don't want to?

I can't. I'm cold.

We could try it some other day.

I went to the red-light district
to find work.

Davalos' safe-conduct
gave me an idea to survive:

buying and selling
on the black market.

I can give you 20 pesetas.

Wait.

Take it or leave it.

Is this what you wanted?

We didn't mention rabbits,
but they're welcome.

- How much for everything?
- Here you are.

In detail.

Besides being a scoundrel,
you're an accountant.

If you're not interested,
I'll take it back.

You want to get rich
at my expense, or what?

You pay me, and I'll get
whatever you need.

Deduct this.

I've got cigarettes.

Come on.

- What's your name?
- I have none.

They call me Miss Mozar.

Why?

What does that matter?

What are you doing?

Nothing.

I haven't got all night
for you.

- Are you embarrassed?
- No. I don't want it this way.

- How then?
- I don't know.

With love.

What are you, an idiot?

It was evident that the war
would be lost sooner or later.

And it was finally lost
in 1939.

Although for me,
it ended a year later,

when I found out
my mother had won the war.

Andrés Vila Flórez!

Son.

Mom?

My son.

What have they done to you?

You're so tall.

And have a beard.

Excuse me, Irene.

He had better
change his clothes.

- I suppose he can take a shower?
- Naturally.

Sergeant!

Sergeant, damn it!

Go on.
Take a shower.

You must have been
starving, son.

- How did you find me?
- Thanks to Victor.

- Had it not been for him...
- They could have shot you.

- My God, don't say that.
- I was kidding.

Franco's peace shelters anyone

whose hands aren't bloodstained.

And Andrés' are clean.
Aren't they?

Where are we going?

We're going to live
in Barcelona.

It's much more fun than Gerona,
don't you think?

Well,

now you're at home.

Thanks for everything, Victor.

See you tomorrow.

Andrés!

Long live Spain!

He's not used to that.

He'll have to get used to it.

See you tomorrow.

- Who is he?
- A good friend.

You can't imagine what he's done
to help me find you.

Come on.

- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon, Mateo.

Good afternoon.

Just a moment, please.

Thank you, Mateo.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- He must be your son.
- Yes, thank God.

- Andrés, Marta Esteve.
- It's a pleasure.

- Happy to be home?
- Very.

That's all over.
You have a whole life ahead of you.

- It's a pleasure.
- Thank you.

- Good afternoon.
- Till tomorrow.

What do you think?

- It's not our furniture.
- God knows where it is!

I bought you pajamas,
but they'll probably be small.

It's funny for a mother
not to know her son's size.

What about the money?

- What money?
- For all this.

The government gave it to us
in compensation for our losses.

- I'll have to find a job.
- No, son.

You have to study.
I've got a job.

- Thanks to Victor, of course.
- I told you before.

I don't know what would
have been of us without him.

Don't worry, Mom. I've slept
without pajamas for years.

- Eat something.
- No, I'm tired.

- See you tomorrow, then.
- See you tomorrow.

Let the figures speak.

More than 25 million hot meals

served this past month.

Three thousand children's
dining rooms,

attending to almost
half a million children.

1,500 fraternity kitchens,

feeding, on a daily basis,

another half a million people.

These are the worthy Christian
works of the new Spain

that, as opposed to the violence
and persecution of the Reds,

does well and dreads no shame.

Long live Franco!
Long live Spain!

- Andrés.
- It's great, Mom.

- But I have to go.
- Victor's coming to lunch.

- So what?
- I want you to come too.

Come on, let's go.

I'll get it, Mateo.

Thank you.
Thank you very much.

Damned drawings.
What a nuisance!

I'm going to go to the University.

What are you going to study?

I like medicine.

My father was a doctor, and Mom--
But she wants me to be an engineer.

Don't tell her, but you
should do what you like.

I agree.

- Here we are.
- I'm in no hurry, really.

Really.

Carlos, this is Andrés,
from the second floor.

- He helped me with the drawings.
- Come in.

Leave that there.

- My father had a lot of books too.
- Had?

He died.
We lost him in the war.

- You like to read?
- Yes.

Marta, I have to go.

Be careful.

- They're at your disposal.
- Thank you.

Come in.

I told your husband
I like to read.

What kind of books?

As a child, adventures.

There are better books
than adventure novels.

And more fun.

Especially for someone
like you, a grown man.

What would you like to read?

Dad always suggested Baroja.

Great.

- How's it going in Barcelona?
- So-so.

I have no friends.

- Why?
- I'm older than most of them

and I'm not interested
in what they talk about.

The University will fix that.

- Did you know Baroja was a doctor?
- No.

I'm telling you because
you're going to study medicine.

Come in.

- You've already read them?
- Yes.

- All three?
- All three.

You're an architect?

No, I help Carlos
because I draw better.

- Which did you like most?
- Baroja.

Just as I thought.

How are things?
Still no friends?

Worse. I have no girlfriends.

- I doubt that.
- They always laugh.

So?

They want to make love,
but I don't dare, so they laugh.

Maybe I don't know how
or when to tell them.

Couldn't you help me?

How could I help you?

- You are a woman.
- That's true.

But not very young.

Don't worry.

You'll resolve that alone,
sooner or later.

What do you want to read?

- Some foreign authors?
- All right.

A Russian.
I'm sure you'll like Chekhov.

An Englishman...
Dickens.

"The Pickwick Papers" is fun.

Now a Frenchman.

Balzac? No.

Stendhal would be better.

Here you go.

- Any other one?
- No, thanks.

- It's me.
- It's Carlos.

Well, then.

Hi, what's up?

- How is your reading going?
- He liked Baroja.

- Your mother doesn't mind?
- Why?

Baroja isn't precisely a patriotic writer
and your mother's a Falangist, no?

No, a pediatrician, that's why
she works at the "Social Aid."

Then there's no problem.

- You choose quite well.
- It was Marta.

Marta is a good adviser.

Well, till tomorrow.

Till whenever you want, Andrés.

Excuse me.

Leave me alone.

Don't you remember me?

At the front, in Aragon, with Comrade Dávalos
and Commander Peciña?

Of course I remember.

You've grown a lot.

How are you?

So-so.

- Where are you going?
- Home.

Your name is Andrés.

- Do you remember mine?
- Sure, Pilar.

He remembers.

You're one of the victors.

Well...

As you can see,
I'm one of the losers.

- Yours?
- Yes.

You ended up marrying that cook,
what was his name?

Honorio.

He only had time
to get me pregnant.

- They killed him.
- I'm sorry.

That's life.

- What are these books?
- I study medicine.

It must be nice to study.

- What do you do?
- I'm a packer.

This is the factory's
housing estate.

How about having a drink?

- You and me?
- Yes.

Come here.

How about dinner?

We could reminisce
about old times,

talk about Dávalos,
Commander Peciña...

- Are you serious?
- Yes.

I'll leave the baby,
change, and we can go.

Fine.

Listen,

I'll be a while to feed him
and put him to bed.

Why don't you come up?

We're almost there.

- I'll wash up a bit.
- Okay.

Had you preferred
to stay downstairs?

No, why?

Because poverty disgusts you.

Don't be silly.

I understand that.

Do I make you sick too?

Is that why
I asked you out to dinner?

You're not going to say
you like me, are you?

I do.

- No.
- Yes.

Fuck!

Well.

I'll have to fix myself up a little.

Hey...

Remember that countess?

Duchess.

Don't pretend.

You liked her a lot.

- How was she in bed?
- I don't remember.

Who is that?

My grandmother.

She gets that way at times,
ever since the bombings.

- How do I look?
- Beautiful.

How long do you go out
with a girl?

Until one of us gets tired.

One after another, right?

If I'm not in love, yes.

Listen, tell me something.

I want the truth.

Are you expecting
to go to bed with me?

Not when we met before.

Now, yes.

What a character!

The answer is no.

First, you're too young for me.

And second?

I don't go to bed
just like that.

Don't you think I'd like to get married
in a church and all that?

Why don't you?

With who?

With you?

Pay no attention.

Come on.

I started doing it on the grass at 18,
and still do.

I haven't advanced much,
have I?

There's something
I want you to know.

I'm doing it because I want to

and I don't care
if I never see you again.

Pilar, and a part
of my memories,

stayed in that housing estate
far from Barcelona.

And I went back
to my monotonous student life.

Delicious.
Absolutely delectable.

- You're an exceptional cook, Carmelita.
- You're too kind.

Not at all.

There's nothing like
home cooking.

- Could you pass me my cigars?
- Sure.

My life is a mess.

Always alone,
from one restaurant to another.

- Official lunches.
- Will you have dessert?

Coffee, just coffee.

Carmela, three coffees.

- How about a cigar?
- God, no, Victor!

She still treats you like a child.

Andrés is a grown man, Irene.

Well,

you must be wondering
what this lunch is all about.

- Mom invited you, didn't she?
- No, I invited myself.

We'd like to get married.
What do you say?

What can I say?

Is that all?

If he has an objection,
let him say so.

Fine, what objection
could I possibly have?

- Do you have something against me?
- No.

I don't get it.

- He was never like this.
- Like what?

So reticent,
so uncommunicative.

Time changes all of us, Irene.

Did you know
I was an anarchist?

Well, look at me now.

By the way,

have you thought of joining?

No.

Don't you think you should?

Excuse me.

- Where are you going?
- To get a Band-Aid.

Don't worry, he'll change.
He'll change.

"The clock struck 10 as Julien
took Mrs. Renal's hand in his. "

If I don't ask her to go to bed with me,
I'll commit suicide.

You'll have read
the entire library soon.

I haven't been going to classes.

This is the one I like the best.

"The Red and the Black."

You have good taste.

I was waiting for Paca to leave.

Really?

Why?

If I don't ask you to go to bed
with me, I'll commit suicide.

That's what I call
being straightforward.

Cream or lemon?

Makes no difference.

Now that you've asked me,
you can go on living.

I stuck my foot in it.
Do you want me to leave?

Silly.

How could I let you
commit suicide?

Come.

Well,

you'd better get undressed.

Do you love me?

If I didn't,
you wouldn't be in my bed.

Will you love me always?

"Always" doesn't mean anything.

Why do you say that?

Love doesn't usually last.

If it doesn't,
it would be better to die.

So smart and so silly.

Are you in love
with someone else?

Well, I love my husband.

But you're here, with me.

What don't you like?

Me loving him,
or being here with you?

Did you know
we'd end up in bed?

Yeah? Since when?

Since I met you in the lift.
I liked how you looked at me.

You could have told me.

The man should take
the initiative.

At least the first time.

Now let me take the initiative.

They beat him up.

They'll throw him out
of the School of Architecture.

They'll make our
lives miserable.

"Carlos Esteve Plana, architect,

a member
of the Republican Esquerra."

This...

This gentleman,

besides being a Catalanist,
is a Mason.

Thus, an enemy of Spain.

With your record,
I wouldn't become his redeemer.

What record?

In '36 you were in Bujaraloz,
in an anarchist battalion.

Andrés, please!

If it weren't for me,
you'd be rotting in some jail.

My interest in Carlos isn't political.
It's something else.

- Actually, I...
- What?

If you don't speak clearly,
I can't help you.

His wife and I...

Have you fallen in love with her?

Yes. I go to bed with her.

Fuckin' little Andrés!

I didn't know that.

Just a moment.

If you're really laying her,

you'd want her husband
behind bars.

- Why do you want to get him out?
- I'm no bastard, Victor.

Right.
Your attitude is noble,

and I respect that.

To the point that,

I'm willing to intervene
for that neighbor of yours.

Thanks, Victor.

But I want a favor
in exchange.

Better yet,
we'll make a deal.

I get the architect out,

and you become a new man.

You'll join the Falange.

- I'm not a Falangist.
- That doesn't matter.

You will be.

Can you imagine how happy
you'll make your mother?

Are you going to eat all that?

Excuse me.

No.

- Do you speak Catalan?
- I'm sorry, but I don't.

- Why not in Spanish?
- Okay.

- Did you like the concert?
- Can I be sincere?

Of course.

Looking at you,
I didn't hear a single note.

I was told Spaniards
are very gallant.

No, I'm sincere.

I'd like to have
a drink with you.

- Aren't we now?
- No, in private.

If you say yes, I'll give you
this beautiful ashtray.

I don't need it.

Just one drink.

Well?

The ashtray belongs
to the hotel.

- I won't steal it then.
- So?

We could leave it in your room.

I don't invite
just any man up to my room.

No, only those who give you
an ashtray like this one.

- What's your name?
- Andrés.

Let's have that drink, Andrés.

Room 202, please.

Have a bottle of champagne
sent up.

I'm sorry, but in Spain,
no visits are allowed in the rooms.

In Spain what?

- Come on, let's go.
- Wait.

- In Spain what?
- Wait here.

- Where are we going?
- For a ride.

- For a ride?
- Yes.

For a ride.

To the end of the world!

It was worthwhile.

What?

Spain is a strange country.

Men declare their love
stealing ashtrays.

I had no flowers at hand.

But it's forbidden
to make love in a hotel.

I don't get it.

Who cares what people do
in bed?

The priests, I guess.

Are you Catholic?

Forcibly.
In Spain everyone is Catholic.

- Like in Italy.
- What do I care?

Did you know this is my first time
in a brothel?

- Me too.
- That's a lie!

I swear.

How did you know the address?

Through a friend.

- A friend.
- Yes.

- A girlfriend?
- No.

- Yes?
- Yes.

Let's see.

You'd better rest a bit.

I'll rest when you leave.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Fine.

- The happiest time of my life.
- The war?

War is terrible.

- I felt free then.
- And not now?

No. If I could,
I'd leave Spain.

- Where would you go?
- I don't know.

- Take me with you.
- Where?

To Italy.

You wouldn't feel freer
in Italy than in Spain.

- France, then.
- France?

Don't you know
what's going on in Europe?

- You know?
- What?

- I dream of leaving too.
- Really?

Where to?

My brother got married
in Argentina.

What good is it
to talk about the future?

Let's go.

- Coming to the station?
- No, I'll pick you up later.

Fine.

See you later.

Wait.

If I proposed,
would you marry me?

If I were a few years younger...

why not?

We'd go to America together.

- What's going on?
- They're leaving.

- Where to?
- To Carlos' hometown.

- Why?
- Politics.

No one I cared for,

no one I considered honest,

fit into that Spain.

So what could I expect?

I didn't know if I loved Boby,
or if she loved me.

But I decided to leave.

That's how I discovered,

as I had in love,

that all men can have
more than one homeland.

- Are you leaving?
- Yes.

Goodbye, Carmela.