Sweet little fairy book store in San Sebastian (you thought it was Paris, didn't you).
Monday, April 23, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Go to...
Instead of saying "Go to hell," the Spanish say "Vete a tomar por culo," which means "Go take it up the ass." Lite versions include "Go take it in a sack" (?).
Edit: another lite-but-not-so-lite version I remembered over the weekend (because I heard it) is vete a la mierda which means "Go to the shit."
Monday, April 16, 2012
Me cago en...
Let's
start off this series with a doozy. Perhaps the most offensive Spanish
curse is "Me cago en Dios," which means, literally, "I shit on God." To
soften this rather fuerte (shocking) imagery, there are lots of
substitutions for "God". Think that middle-school replacement of saying
"sugar" when you want to say "shit." (Here they say miércoles [Wednesday] when they want to say mierda [shit].) When you want to shit on something other than God, the options include:
Me cago en... I shit in/on...
...la leche ...the milk
...la mar ...the sea
...diez (sounds like Dios, god) ...ten
And should you want to make "I shit on God" even more offensive -- didn't think that was possible, didja? -- you can say Me cago en tu puta madre, which means "I shit on your whore mother."
An Introduction to Spanish Cursing
The Spanish love to curse. Here, children as young as four, five, six are saying words that, in English, would make anyone blush and would warrant a rebuke, if not a spanking. Ass, shit, fuck, and even the C-word are ubiquitous, and nowhere near as offensive as in English. Grannies on the street say the C-word when they drop their shopping bags. My eight-year-old students say shit when they make a spelling mistake. Even the most boring, quiet class snaps to attention when the conversation turns to how to curse in English. It's actually pretty interesting to think about how swears have evolved in each language, and how different words are used to convey the same meaning. For example, to call someone a bitch, they don't use the word for female dog as much as they use the word for female fox (zorra). To say "son of a bitch" they say "son of a whore".
Pronunciation is also key here: one of the hardest distinctions for Spanish speakers to make is between dark and light vowels in English. Spanish has the same five vowels as English, but each one has only one sound that it always makes. None of this wind/wind or live/live confusion. I can't count the number of people who have confided to me that they're afraid to talk about going to the beach because they're afraid they're going to say bitch instead. My sophomores last year giggled uncontrollably when I handed out "worksheets" -- that small but oh-so-important difference in vowel sounds made it sound to them like I was saying "workshits". Ha ha, "shit" is soooo funny when you are fifteen.
Spanish curses can be quite creative, and when translated they're pretty funny. And so begins a new series: Spanish Swear of the Day. (Although let's be honest, daily here is a very high expectation for me and it will more likely be bi-weekly or even weekly or even monthly if we are very, very honest.)
Pronunciation is also key here: one of the hardest distinctions for Spanish speakers to make is between dark and light vowels in English. Spanish has the same five vowels as English, but each one has only one sound that it always makes. None of this wind/wind or live/live confusion. I can't count the number of people who have confided to me that they're afraid to talk about going to the beach because they're afraid they're going to say bitch instead. My sophomores last year giggled uncontrollably when I handed out "worksheets" -- that small but oh-so-important difference in vowel sounds made it sound to them like I was saying "workshits". Ha ha, "shit" is soooo funny when you are fifteen.
Spanish curses can be quite creative, and when translated they're pretty funny. And so begins a new series: Spanish Swear of the Day. (Although let's be honest, daily here is a very high expectation for me and it will more likely be bi-weekly or even weekly or even monthly if we are very, very honest.)
Oh no...are you married to HER?
Some of you may remember that last year my choir sang "The Messiah" with other choirs from the region and an English conductor/professional choir/orchestra. During the rehearsals we got to know -- at least by sight -- the members of the other choirs. A certain blonde soprano from another choir (el Orfeon) who sat behind us drove me and my choir's sopranos absolutely nuts...for all my singer-readers, she was one of those sopranos. Screaming at the top of her shrieky voice to be heard over everyone else, not supporting at all, overshooting every.single.note so that not only was she yelling, she was extremely sharp. On top of that she was a huge brown-noser (how's that for good English vocabulary...imagine explaining that to a group of students. I've done it.), agreeing out loud when the conductor made comments, raising her hand every.time.he asked a rhetorical question, laughing loudly at his sort-of-funny jokes. Ugh. It pisses me off to remember it. Anyway, she had a nice-looking, brown-haired friend who sat silently by and seemed pretty steamrolled by blondie. They were the only sopranos in that choir under the age of, say, 50, much like me, Maria, and Cristina in my choir.
One day I was waiting for the bus to go to rehearsal, getting more and more anxious about being late. I saw nice-looking-brown-haired girl waiting at the same bus stop. She got on a bus I wasn't sure would take us to the rehearsal space, but since I was already late and I figured she knew better than I did, I followed her on. As the bus took a hard right through the tunnel over to the other side of the city, I saw a look of panic cross her face, mirroring my own. Nodding to the score in her hand I asked her if she was going to the rehearsal, and she said yes, but that we weren't going the right way, and she didn't know what to do. We got off at the next stop and ran as fast as we could back through the tunnel to the bus stop we'd started at, laughing the whole way, stopping in the middle to catch our breath. I was thrilled to have a new sort-of-friend. When we finally got on the right bus, we sat together and chatted. I found out she was from Santander, had a husband, and a few other general facts. She was very sweet and friendly, and she complimented my Spanish, which of course made me like her even more. We got to rehearsal, late, and snuck in to our respective seats. From then on we smiled at each other but never got another chance to talk. Partly because she was always with her obnoxious friend.
Fast forward to my new job at the energy consulting company. When I started in November I made a point of taking up my workmates on their invitations to go "tomar un cafe" at noon every day. I felt shy but knew that it would be the best way to meet people and feel included in the office. Little by little I got to know the guys (there was one other girl but she left soon after I started and never came out for coffee), and they got to know me. One day I mentioned to Eduardo, the very blonde non-Spanish looking head engineer (yeah, they're all super smart and technical-like, and I ask such questions as "What do you mean the electricity goes in a circuit?" Ok, maybe not that bad, but almost.) that I sang in a choir. He said his wife did too, and said she sang soprano in el Orfeon. I was horrified, thinking annoying blondie was his wife. As disappointment set in -- bummer, and I thought I liked this guy. If I find out he is married to her, well, there goes that -- I casually asked if his wife was blonde. He said no, that she was brunette. "I know her!" I said excitedly, trying to hide my relief. I told him about how I'd seen her score and followed her on the bus, and how nice she was. "Ohhh!" he said. "You're the American girl she met when she took the wrong bus that day! Yes, she is very nice, but never follow her directions anywhere!"
One day I was waiting for the bus to go to rehearsal, getting more and more anxious about being late. I saw nice-looking-brown-haired girl waiting at the same bus stop. She got on a bus I wasn't sure would take us to the rehearsal space, but since I was already late and I figured she knew better than I did, I followed her on. As the bus took a hard right through the tunnel over to the other side of the city, I saw a look of panic cross her face, mirroring my own. Nodding to the score in her hand I asked her if she was going to the rehearsal, and she said yes, but that we weren't going the right way, and she didn't know what to do. We got off at the next stop and ran as fast as we could back through the tunnel to the bus stop we'd started at, laughing the whole way, stopping in the middle to catch our breath. I was thrilled to have a new sort-of-friend. When we finally got on the right bus, we sat together and chatted. I found out she was from Santander, had a husband, and a few other general facts. She was very sweet and friendly, and she complimented my Spanish, which of course made me like her even more. We got to rehearsal, late, and snuck in to our respective seats. From then on we smiled at each other but never got another chance to talk. Partly because she was always with her obnoxious friend.
Fast forward to my new job at the energy consulting company. When I started in November I made a point of taking up my workmates on their invitations to go "tomar un cafe" at noon every day. I felt shy but knew that it would be the best way to meet people and feel included in the office. Little by little I got to know the guys (there was one other girl but she left soon after I started and never came out for coffee), and they got to know me. One day I mentioned to Eduardo, the very blonde non-Spanish looking head engineer (yeah, they're all super smart and technical-like, and I ask such questions as "What do you mean the electricity goes in a circuit?" Ok, maybe not that bad, but almost.) that I sang in a choir. He said his wife did too, and said she sang soprano in el Orfeon. I was horrified, thinking annoying blondie was his wife. As disappointment set in -- bummer, and I thought I liked this guy. If I find out he is married to her, well, there goes that -- I casually asked if his wife was blonde. He said no, that she was brunette. "I know her!" I said excitedly, trying to hide my relief. I told him about how I'd seen her score and followed her on the bus, and how nice she was. "Ohhh!" he said. "You're the American girl she met when she took the wrong bus that day! Yes, she is very nice, but never follow her directions anywhere!"
Monday, April 2, 2012
In Which I Find Myself Protesting
I found myself getting roped into a (what turned into a very peaceful) protest march Thursday morning...
My day began with this. See that lovely mint green building in the background? Yeah, that's where I live.
The smoke I smelled upon waking up in the morning turned out to be from a plastic dumpster -- previously filled with paper -- that had been set on fire. There were lots of (young, cute) policemen hanging around looking important, but also a bit nervous. This was strike day, everyone knew it, and apparently things were beginning like the peaceful-turned-not-so-peaceful protests in Valencia and Barcelona from earlier in the year.
Later that morning my friend Sheila texted me saying she was coming to the protest, and asked if I wanted to meet up for a visit before she went to the gathering at the ministry building. I hadn't seen her in a while, so I went, thinking we would just chat for a bit. Until she told me that, should I ever want to stay in her cute new apartment when I visit, I should go to the march. So I thought about it, and decided to go.
First thing in the morning, picketers were posted outside various ministry buildings and factories. At mid-day there was the march "in defense of public education", and later in the evening there was a more labor-oriented protest, that ended up gathering about 80,000 people, making it the biggest protest march in Santander's history. There were some scuffles between picketers and ministry workers, and some more violence during the major afternoon protest. But the march for education was totally peaceful: teachers, parents, and students, walking through the city. There was some yelling and some noise cannons, but mostly there was lots of camaraderie, and everyone seemed to know everyone else there. I think I ran in to about 85% of the people I've met here in the last four years. The afternoon protest, though, did get more violent (it even made the BBC!) . I stayed in my little attic home for that one, and listened to the noise cannons from far away. "Violent" meaning there was lots of pushing and yelling. In Torrelavega, where I work, a lady got slashed with a big ol' knife -- wielded by a hotel owner with a history of assault. It was not as violent as it could have been, by any means; but neither was it as peaceful as it could have been.
At first I felt funny about going to a protest in a country that's not my own; hell, I probably wouldn't even go to one in the US. But then I got to thinking about what happened to me back in October. Turns out, I am directly affected by all these education reforms. At the moment I have no visa and no health insurance because of the new government. But that's not the only reason I went. I love this place, this city, the people I've become close to here. Most of my friends are teachers; I adore my students in private classes, the academy, and the school where I used to work. These reforms will affect them every day for the rest of their academic lives. The reforms will affect my teacher friends for the rest of their working lives. The Spanish use the word solidarity a lot more than we do; I think it's something that should be incorporated more fully into the American vocabulary. So that's why I went: for my own rights, but also, and I think, more importantly, for the rights of the people I love here who I think are being treated unfairly.
My day began with this. See that lovely mint green building in the background? Yeah, that's where I live.
The smoke I smelled upon waking up in the morning turned out to be from a plastic dumpster -- previously filled with paper -- that had been set on fire. There were lots of (young, cute) policemen hanging around looking important, but also a bit nervous. This was strike day, everyone knew it, and apparently things were beginning like the peaceful-turned-not-so-peaceful protests in Valencia and Barcelona from earlier in the year.
Later that morning my friend Sheila texted me saying she was coming to the protest, and asked if I wanted to meet up for a visit before she went to the gathering at the ministry building. I hadn't seen her in a while, so I went, thinking we would just chat for a bit. Until she told me that, should I ever want to stay in her cute new apartment when I visit, I should go to the march. So I thought about it, and decided to go.
First thing in the morning, picketers were posted outside various ministry buildings and factories. At mid-day there was the march "in defense of public education", and later in the evening there was a more labor-oriented protest, that ended up gathering about 80,000 people, making it the biggest protest march in Santander's history. There were some scuffles between picketers and ministry workers, and some more violence during the major afternoon protest. But the march for education was totally peaceful: teachers, parents, and students, walking through the city. There was some yelling and some noise cannons, but mostly there was lots of camaraderie, and everyone seemed to know everyone else there. I think I ran in to about 85% of the people I've met here in the last four years. The afternoon protest, though, did get more violent (it even made the BBC!) . I stayed in my little attic home for that one, and listened to the noise cannons from far away. "Violent" meaning there was lots of pushing and yelling. In Torrelavega, where I work, a lady got slashed with a big ol' knife -- wielded by a hotel owner with a history of assault. It was not as violent as it could have been, by any means; but neither was it as peaceful as it could have been.
At first I felt funny about going to a protest in a country that's not my own; hell, I probably wouldn't even go to one in the US. But then I got to thinking about what happened to me back in October. Turns out, I am directly affected by all these education reforms. At the moment I have no visa and no health insurance because of the new government. But that's not the only reason I went. I love this place, this city, the people I've become close to here. Most of my friends are teachers; I adore my students in private classes, the academy, and the school where I used to work. These reforms will affect them every day for the rest of their academic lives. The reforms will affect my teacher friends for the rest of their working lives. The Spanish use the word solidarity a lot more than we do; I think it's something that should be incorporated more fully into the American vocabulary. So that's why I went: for my own rights, but also, and I think, more importantly, for the rights of the people I love here who I think are being treated unfairly.
Since When Do I Write About Politics?
Last Thursday (March 29) was a "huelga general" here in Spain, meaning the various unions called for a nationwide strike -- and protest march -- across all sectors. Now, if you're anything like me, you haven't been following the political reforms in Spain very closely, which is fine for you, but not so great for me considering I live here. I haven't done any detailed research, but have talked to lots of friends about it, and generally the attitude is "La cosa está muy mal. Muy, muy mal." ("Things are bad. Very, very bad.")
There have been a number of budget cuts in education, and since the majority of my friends here are either teachers or graduate students, I hear anecdotal news quite frequently. I also watch the news every morning and sort of pay attention to what's on in between weather reports. AND I read the newspaper at the cafe with the little awkward waiter when I have coffee there a few times a week. So I guess I do keep up on the news...kind of...anyway, the problems in education. For example: this winter in Valencia students went on strike when the heat was shut off in their classrooms because the school hadn't received funds during the entire school year. They protested in front of the school, and things escalated quickly to violence between riot police and protesters. The general feeling was that a small group of radicals took advantage of the situation and started setting things on fire, while the students had been calling for (and enacting) a peaceful protest all along. More on that in a minute.
All over the country, faculty jobs are being reduced while teachers' working hours are being increased, as are class sizes. That means fewer teachers who are more overworked -- and who are mostly burnt out, since the young teachers without fixed positions will be the first to get the axe -- with more students, all of whom are there for more hours. In what world does that sound like a good idea?
The new (conservative) government, who won the elections earlier this year, have also made big changes in the labor laws. Women may now be fired if they become pregnant, which some people say is effectively encouraging (if not requiring) them to abort. In these times of 25% unemployment (a figure that rises to 48% if you are under 25 years old), some people seem to think that terminating a pregnancy would be better than losing your job. Companies/bosses now have what seems like ultimate power to fire anyone they want to, for any reason they want to. I have heard (totally anecdotal, I don't know how reliable these stories are) that people have lost their jobs for taking justified leave -- that is, my daughter's in the hospital, I have a doctor's note because I have been having chemotherapy, I broke my leg and had to miss a week of work.
There was lots of hype surrounding this general strike, and most people I talked to said they were going to participate. I think that's just great -- the strike was planned in advance, employers had notice, and people could make their own decisions as to whether or not to go to work. But the more people I talked to, the more perspectives I got. The mom of two kids I teach in a private class works in an until-recently-family-owned manufacturing company. She said none of the workers wanted to strike, because they wanted to be paid for that day. But because they were bodily afraid of picketers -- most of whom came from other provinces so that they wouldn't know or be recognized by anyone they were antagonizing -- they opted to take a vacation day and close the factory.
Now, I take that report with a grain of salt -- because what worker is always completely 100% honest with their bosses about wanting to strike? But that they were afraid for their physical safety if they chose to go to work...doesn't that defeat the purpose of striking to begin with? Isn't the whole idea that people be allowed to exercise their right to strike -- or not? It's unfair and hypocritical that people would travel to other provinces to intimidate people into not going to work, when they are exercising their rights just as much as the picketers. That's the cool thing about a democracy -- at least about the theory of a democracy -- I get to express and act upon my opinions, and so do you. As long as they're not hurting anyone else, it's OK. Now leave me alone about it.
I never meant for this to be a political blog, and I think I can safely say that it has not become so, based on the fact that my last three posts were about music, bugs, and a long-and-involved personal story that I'm not sure anyone even read. Nor have I ever considered myself particularly politically-inclined, especially when it comes to protesting and marches and other scary things that involve big crowds of people and riot police. But after hearing all these stories about the political situation in Spain, I ultimately decided to participate in one. Details to follow.
There have been a number of budget cuts in education, and since the majority of my friends here are either teachers or graduate students, I hear anecdotal news quite frequently. I also watch the news every morning and sort of pay attention to what's on in between weather reports. AND I read the newspaper at the cafe with the little awkward waiter when I have coffee there a few times a week. So I guess I do keep up on the news...kind of...anyway, the problems in education. For example: this winter in Valencia students went on strike when the heat was shut off in their classrooms because the school hadn't received funds during the entire school year. They protested in front of the school, and things escalated quickly to violence between riot police and protesters. The general feeling was that a small group of radicals took advantage of the situation and started setting things on fire, while the students had been calling for (and enacting) a peaceful protest all along. More on that in a minute.
All over the country, faculty jobs are being reduced while teachers' working hours are being increased, as are class sizes. That means fewer teachers who are more overworked -- and who are mostly burnt out, since the young teachers without fixed positions will be the first to get the axe -- with more students, all of whom are there for more hours. In what world does that sound like a good idea?
The new (conservative) government, who won the elections earlier this year, have also made big changes in the labor laws. Women may now be fired if they become pregnant, which some people say is effectively encouraging (if not requiring) them to abort. In these times of 25% unemployment (a figure that rises to 48% if you are under 25 years old), some people seem to think that terminating a pregnancy would be better than losing your job. Companies/bosses now have what seems like ultimate power to fire anyone they want to, for any reason they want to. I have heard (totally anecdotal, I don't know how reliable these stories are) that people have lost their jobs for taking justified leave -- that is, my daughter's in the hospital, I have a doctor's note because I have been having chemotherapy, I broke my leg and had to miss a week of work.
There was lots of hype surrounding this general strike, and most people I talked to said they were going to participate. I think that's just great -- the strike was planned in advance, employers had notice, and people could make their own decisions as to whether or not to go to work. But the more people I talked to, the more perspectives I got. The mom of two kids I teach in a private class works in an until-recently-family-owned manufacturing company. She said none of the workers wanted to strike, because they wanted to be paid for that day. But because they were bodily afraid of picketers -- most of whom came from other provinces so that they wouldn't know or be recognized by anyone they were antagonizing -- they opted to take a vacation day and close the factory.
Now, I take that report with a grain of salt -- because what worker is always completely 100% honest with their bosses about wanting to strike? But that they were afraid for their physical safety if they chose to go to work...doesn't that defeat the purpose of striking to begin with? Isn't the whole idea that people be allowed to exercise their right to strike -- or not? It's unfair and hypocritical that people would travel to other provinces to intimidate people into not going to work, when they are exercising their rights just as much as the picketers. That's the cool thing about a democracy -- at least about the theory of a democracy -- I get to express and act upon my opinions, and so do you. As long as they're not hurting anyone else, it's OK. Now leave me alone about it.
I never meant for this to be a political blog, and I think I can safely say that it has not become so, based on the fact that my last three posts were about music, bugs, and a long-and-involved personal story that I'm not sure anyone even read. Nor have I ever considered myself particularly politically-inclined, especially when it comes to protesting and marches and other scary things that involve big crowds of people and riot police. But after hearing all these stories about the political situation in Spain, I ultimately decided to participate in one. Details to follow.
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