As of tomorrow La Liga will kick off for its new season; Barcelona will be attempting to retain its haul of trophies, Real Madrid will be showcasing its new set of Galacticos and the nation of Spain will be cranking up expectation for next year’s World Cup. As people looking in, we know enough about Spain’s relationship with football – but what’s it like for the ex-pat living in Spain? How do they see it?

One person who may be able to shed light on this is Charlie. He is currently living in Barcelona soaking up the food, language and it seems – the football culture. I’ll leave him to explain:

This is Spain, and as soon as I have stepped outside the door a football rolls into my path. Literally. I have a scout and notice some kids waving at me to kick it back in their direction. No big deal, I played for my school team, in fact I’d probably be playing in the Champions League if it weren’t for my imaginary hamstring issues. I kick the ball back and it somehow manages to end up further away than it was originally. One of the kids, obviously unimpressed with my ability, nips past me and collects the ball; on his return he nutmegs me. I try and remember the Spanish word for ‘hamstring’, then I realise I never knew it to begin with, the best I can do is ‘leg’. I pretend to limp and shout out “Pierna!” pointing at my leg, his little friends laugh me off the street and carry on with their game.

As I walk on, someone is screaming. Expecting a crime scene, I turn to see an ageing gent sat in a bar, casually shouting obscenities at a television screen. Of course, he’s watching a football match. After taking another look, I realise that Ronald Koeman is on the pitch. Either I’ve woken up in the early nineties or this is a replay. Little bit over excited for a replay, no? No, this is Spain.

Into the supermarket, needing some crisps, I have a browse. Real Madrid have their own crisps, FC Barcelona have their own crisps, there’s even one brand that have their crisps in the shape of footballs. You can literally eat a football, admittedly they are slightly smaller than your standard issue FA ball and lack the leathery taste, but technically you are still eating a football.

I arrive home and finish the last of my football shaped food. I take a seat and pick up the paper, pausing for a moment. I think about football and Spain. In Spain, football is inescapable. It is everywhere. Sport basically just means football over here. I’d even go as far to say that football is bigger than sport, if that actually makes any sense. This can be summed up with one example; El Marca is the number one selling newspaper in the country is solely concerned with football. Here the majority of people prefer to read football gossip rather than the actual news, I am in that majority. I open my copy of El Marca, if only to look at the pictures and attempt to piece together the Spanish transfer activity.

This is Spain – it is football through and through.