Barcelona - The Catalans

Barcelona - The Catalans

Before I came out to Barcelona I knew that Catalonia was a separate entity unto itself that was radically different from the rest of Spain. For one, they enjoy a culture of their own, complete with history, traditions, and a language. In many ways the Catalonians share a common ground with the Basque, who also possess their own individual culture aside from the rest of Spain. Both had suffered cultural oppression during the Franco era, and in the modern Spanish state they, along with every Spanish state, was afforded a great degree of autonomy. Modern Spain can be considered a union of seventeen autonomous states. It is not exactly on par with the Swiss confederation, but is by and large the most decentralized state in the entire European Union.

Catalonia is the site of an ongoing independence movement that shapes, in large part, how the Catalans feel about foreigners, with even Spaniards falling into this group. A fallacious argument made by the Catalonians for independence is that they are the major breadwinners for the Spanish state. They do indeed produce a large part of the state revenue, mostly through tourism. I simply find the argument amusing because, by that logic, California would have a claim to secede from the US because it is the state that makes the most money in the Union, and Chicago and New York City could become their own independent city-states on par with San Marino or Monaco. Another fallacious argument for independence is the need for greater control over local affairs. Already the Spanish Constitution allows for them to have their own education and health care systems, their own police force, their own judicial system, and even their own parliament. The only areas which they do not have control over is military affairs, border security, counter-terrorism, immigration, transportation, taxation, the mail, etc., things you would normally expect a centralized governmental body to take care of. The Catalans can enjoy this autonomy so long as they do not push for secession, as it is clearly illegal in the Spanish Constitution. What I found most irritating about the Catalans is their perpetual dislike of Spaniards and the burning urge to be their own country. I find this position to be pretentious, as it seems they already have a great deal of control over their local affairs, and in fact they are benefiting from being apart of a greater whole while maintaining and supporting their local heritage. To me, they have the best of both worlds, yet choose to continue to make a sore issue out of the independence thing. I can empathize to degree for the suffering they must have endured during the Franco era; fascism sucks and Spain learned its lesson. I believe the Catalans must work towards reconciling the past with their Spanish brethren rather than taking a “good riddance” approach. My final word on this subject, from what I observe, is that they talk a lot about independence but are unwilling to fight for it. The Basque talk a big game about independence from Spain too, but they actually took steps towards that end, mostly in the form of ETA car bombings of top Spanish government officials and military brass. I have never heard of a Catalan group that took similar actions. As an American, my understanding of independence is that you have to fight for it if you want to have it. Sitting and bitching will get them nowhere. Perhaps their proximity to France has had an effect on their view of “resistance” but the Basque Country is up by France too and they have, until very recently, fought for their movement.

When it came to interacting with the Catalans on a day to day basis, I found the experience to be trying and often difficult. Had I known that they were outright hostile to anything Spanish, I would have tried to pick up some Catalan before arriving. However, whenever I would walk into a store or a café and tried to make purchases in Spanish, I was immediately frowned upon and made to feel like I needed to leave. Even explaining that I was not Spanish did not help, as Catalans seem to loath foreigners and tourists alike, even though the city, as previously mentioned, boasts this as their major revenue flow and reason it as a need for independence. The worst case of this happening to me was a visit to the Bank of Madrid. I went there because I was having credit card issues and I needed some help sorting it out. First of all, banks in Spain open at 9 and close at 2. How in the world can they expect to do business with the rest of the world when they are only open for 5 hours? Made no sense to me. So I walk up to the counter and I ask the lady if she spoke English. “No English.” Ok, so surely there must be someone else at the counter that spoke English, right? “No English.” And then I looked around to the desks that littered the walls of the lobby, pointed to them, and asked if they spoke English. “No English.” At this point I was beginning to become both bewildered and frustrated. This was a major financial institution, the international language of business is English, how in the hell could they not have someone in house who spoke English, especially when they were located on the opposite side of the traffic circle as the Ramblas, the most busy tourist spot in the city. At this point I used my Spanish to indicate that I would like to speak to a manager: “Yo quiero hablar con el jefe.” And she gave me this really cross look; I stared right back and repeated my phrase, slowly and succinctly. After having a staring match for what seemed like the longest 10 seconds of my life, she finally picks up the phone and dials a number. I think that finally, I am getting somewhere. The problem arose when I heard her say in her babble into the phone “policia” at least twice. It dawned on my that she was calling the cops. In the next few split seconds I had to sum up my position: I am a foreigner in a foreign country, with an obvious language impediment, armed with only my passport, and this bank teller is calling the cops on me. Realizing the futility of remaining and dealing the authorities, I slowly backed away from the counter a few steps, and before turning and walking briskly out the door, gave the lady teller a double fingered salute. Less than 5 minutes later I was on the metro heading home, replaying what had just happened in my mind, and began to think that I had just been discriminated against. Perhaps “No English” was not indicative of a lack of knowledge of the language. Perhaps it had really meant “we do not serve your kind.” For the first time in my life I felt the true burn of discrimination, and it opened up my eyes. White folk in the US have no idea what discrimination feels like unless the live in a predominantly ethnic neighborhood. Being a stranger in a strange land, this was my first experience with it, and I knew that, if I were going to make it on my long journey across the world, I would have to get used to that feeling, and like so many minorities in America, I would have to learn to “take it in stride.”

The only Catalans I met who were at least willing to tolerate me were either the elderly who knew what life was like before Franco, and the youth who had grown up in the post-Franco era. I asked some of my retired students why there was so much animosity, and they chalked it up either to xenophobia or just being molded and hardened by the Franco way of life. And as for the youth, well, they possess a more innocent view of the world and are willing to be more tolerable and accepting than their predecessors. The youth especially were impressive to me in just the sheer difference in how they spent their time. They are not bound to the couch by Playstation and Guitar Hero, but rather play many sports in the local placas or hang out by the beach. On a trip to Sitges, a small beach community south of Barcelona, I was able to capture the scene of Catalan kids engaged in acrobatic tricks with the aid of a half buried rubber exercise ball. Observe:



Also, I was very impressed by how jovial they could be, especially on Saturday nights. The drinking age is officially 16, although it usually just pertains to beer only. Still, binge drinking is not a problem for Spain like it is with the youth of America. There simply is no culture for it. What I found incredible was their propensity for music, and how even on the metro they would bust out into collaborated rhythm and song. Observe:


In the youth I could find a reprieve from the outright hostility I felt from the older crowds. They were very much interested in American pop culture and music, and I enjoyed talking to them about the dynamics of Brad and Angelina or the latest hits by Justin Timberlake. I actually knew little of either, and tried to steer the conversation in the direction of good ole American rock n roll, or at the very least, heavy metal. They love Hollywood movies and video games like Grand Theft Auto. I wondered whether American culture was really that pervasive or whether Spanish culture had yet to offer a superior alternative. In the end, it was just really nice to talk to people on average my same age and found that we had many of the same hopes and fears regarding the future of the human race. I found their attitudes to be a lot more on par with American attitudes which is more than I can say from the French, Dutch, and Germans I had talked to. This gave me hope that perhaps Spain would be a worthy European candidate for residency should the US not be back on a more even keel in the next year or so. Certainly Catalonia is not a good indicator of what the rest of the country is like; it would be unwise of me to write the entire country off because of the bad experiences I had there. That would like tourists coming to America and writing it off as a terrible place because they were treated poorly while staying in New York City. While NYC is our most cosmopolitan city, it is by no means a standard bearer for the rest of the US. For this reason, I will keep the door of my mind open to Spain, and always take a grain of salt when remembering my time in Catalonia and the Catalans I encountered there.