Early in 1964 Kristall asked me to travel through Spain for six weeks and record the country's first cautious Stepps towards democracy. This was the time when more tourists started to be enthusiastic about sun, bull-fights, and senoritas. For the German Spain (Italy, too) soon became the synonym for holiday. And all this while the country still lived in a state of siege, occupied by ist own army and dominated by the regime of Francisco Franco. Towards the end of my journey I was the only foreign photographer who could attend a state occasion, with the General celebrated the 25th anniversary of his take-over in the Valle de los Caidos, the valley of the fallen soldiers. It was a celebration with a lot of pathos and brass music. At this place, where a high functionary of the Falange kissed the hand of Franco's father confessor, he, the great dictator, rests himself today.