EVERY December, televisions across Spain are tuned to the same hypnotic sound: schoolchildren singing out long strings of numbers in a chant that seems to last forever.
Bars fall silent, offices pause work, and families huddle around radios and TVs.
This is El Gordo – the world’s biggest lottery draw – and it perfectly captures Spain’s unique obsession with the lottery.
But El Gordo is only the most famous part of a much broader national pastime. Spaniards play the lottery year-round, and in ways that often baffle foreigners.
From buying fractions of tickets to sharing numbers with colleagues, Spain’s lottery culture is as much about community as it is about cash.
The first surprise for newcomers is that Spaniards rarely buy a whole ticket. Instead, lottery tickets are divided into ten parts, known as decimos.
Each decimo costs a fraction of the full ticket price, but still offers substantial winnings. This makes participation more accessible and, crucially, encourages sharing.
It is common for friends, families, football clubs, offices, bars and even apartment blocks to all buy the same number together. When a prize hits, everyone wins a slice.
The downside? When a number you almost bought comes up, you hear the phrase Spaniards dread most: ‘Me tocó por poco’ (‘I nearly won’).
The 2025 Christmas Lottery did not disappoint. The top prize, El Gordo, went to the number 79,432, winning €400,000 per decimo – a total of nearly €4 million for a full ticket – with much of that fortune sold in Madrid and across the province of Leon.
Smaller but still life-changing prizes were also handed out: the second prize went to number 70,048, and the third to 90,693 – both widely dispersed across Spanish towns and cities.
In many communities touched by recent hardship – such as areas affected by wildfires in Castilla y Leon – the wins have brought palpable relief and celebration.
In total, the lottery distributed €2.77?billion in prizes this year, €70?million more than in 2024.
Spain’s Christmas Lottery, officially the Loteria de Navidad, dates back to 1812 and remains the largest lottery draw in the world in terms of total prize money.
Rather than one giant jackpot, the money is spread across thousands of prizes, meaning entire towns can be transformed overnight.
This is deliberate: the aim has never been to create a single multimillionaire, but to distribute wealth widely.
In a country with strong social ties and a history of economic hardship, this model resonates deeply.
The draw itself is a spectacle. Children from Madrid’s San Ildefonso school sing the numbers live on television in a ceremony that lasts hours. For Spaniards, it marks the emotional start of Christmas.
Spain’s love of the lottery is partly historical. State lotteries have existed for more than 200 years, and buying a ticket was often promoted as a patriotic duty, helping fund public coffers during wars and crises.
Unlike in some countries, where gambling can carry stigma, participation in the national lottery is socially accepted and even expected.
For many Spaniards, buying a ticket is seen as harmless hope rather than reckless risk, especially when shared among friends or colleagues.
Beyond Christmas, Spaniards regularly play weekly draws such as La Primitiva, Bonoloto and Euromillones.
Even here, group play is common, with syndicates organised at work or in neighbourhood bars.
Lottery shops themselves are often family-run institutions, some famous for having sold winning numbers in the past.
These outlets regularly attract throngs of hopeful buyers, with queues often snaking away from the kiosk and stretching for hundreds of metres.
Anyone who has witnessed long lines of people standing patiently in Madrid’s biting winter cold has likely seen Spain’s lottery culture in action – many waiting for a ticket from one of the capital’s famously ‘lucky’ lottery shops.
But ultimately, Spain’s lottery obsession is less about becoming rich and more about collective optimism.
For a few euros, people buy into a shared dream – one that might pay off, but even if it does not, creates conversation, excitement and a sense of belonging.
And if it does come in? The celebration is rarely quiet. Champagne flows, towns erupt, and the phrase ‘Ha caído aquí’ (‘It’s fallen here’) becomes the headline everyone hopes to read.
Click here to read more Explainer News from The Olive Press.
