dilluns, 31 de gener del 2011
diumenge, 30 de gener del 2011
dissabte, 29 de gener del 2011
I'd rather be in Barcelona
I had another one of my moments today. One of my "get me out of here soon or I'll start crying and carrying on like a child" moments. They don't happen often, though the triggers are pretty regular and predictable for me. I really shouldn't have been surprised.
The subway stop I get off at every other Friday night to volunteer with a Bangladeshi Bible study some friends of my family run has advertisements from the Spanish tourism board in the stairwell where you go down to access the tracks, right before you decide whether you want to go east or west on the Bloor line (I "live" in Toronto). There are two images, one is of a Spanish parasailor I believe she is, and the second is of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona with the tagline "Perfectly Unfinished" next to it in a flowing script. It always makes me a little nostalgic when I see it, and those signs have to have been up there for the past three months; I started seeing them in December. But tonight... It really didn't help that I was listening to my Above and Beyond: Trance Around the World podcast, and by the time I sat down their track "Can't Sleep" was playing. It was as clear as a vision: all of a sudden I found myself waiting at the Badal stop on the L5 blue line. The exit on the other side of the tracks wasn't written in English, it was written in Catalan. And as quickly as the "vision" came, it was gone, and I remembered that I was not in Barcelona but rather in Toronto, and I felt it. I felt my heart weighing down my chest, my eyes drooping, with that realization that I was not where I felt I should be in that moment.
It was a mixture of the song (Though listening to trance music on the subway is a really bad idea for me in general, because it always ends up bringing back memories of Barcelona; for some reason most of the time I listen to trance I'm reminded of Barcelona. I think my 2008 trip and waking up to the A State of Trance 2007 album ruined me forever.), the public transportation, and the plain and simple fact that I am, quite simply, not in Barcelona came together in a crazy blend of nostalgia, leaving me hit as if by a freight train. How lovely.
I honestly don't think I'll ever get this out of my system. I love the music too much, I love that city too much. I don't think it'll ever leave my system until I manage to actually live there. Sure, at this point I can navigate the city like a native despite the fact that I've only been there three times and for no longer than six days. Sure, I feel like I live there whenever I'm there because I tend to avoid the tourist traps like the plague (I have still never paid a duro to visit any of Gaudí's monuments; I've only technically been to Parc Güell and that place is free, thank God) regardless of how pretentious that makes me sound. But until I can actually get to truly experience the city the way it should be experienced: as a native, as someone who only goes in there for business/education and otherwise tends to avoid it (I want to live in Terrassa, hohoho), basically, until I can find something to dislike about it I will probably end up missing it forever.
Though to be fair, I still miss Bilbao and Getxo and I lived there for two and a half years. So I guess I'll probably always end up missing Barcelona. Meaning I will probably be spending the rest of my life wishing I were there. Such is my destiny.
The subway stop I get off at every other Friday night to volunteer with a Bangladeshi Bible study some friends of my family run has advertisements from the Spanish tourism board in the stairwell where you go down to access the tracks, right before you decide whether you want to go east or west on the Bloor line (I "live" in Toronto). There are two images, one is of a Spanish parasailor I believe she is, and the second is of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona with the tagline "Perfectly Unfinished" next to it in a flowing script. It always makes me a little nostalgic when I see it, and those signs have to have been up there for the past three months; I started seeing them in December. But tonight... It really didn't help that I was listening to my Above and Beyond: Trance Around the World podcast, and by the time I sat down their track "Can't Sleep" was playing. It was as clear as a vision: all of a sudden I found myself waiting at the Badal stop on the L5 blue line. The exit on the other side of the tracks wasn't written in English, it was written in Catalan. And as quickly as the "vision" came, it was gone, and I remembered that I was not in Barcelona but rather in Toronto, and I felt it. I felt my heart weighing down my chest, my eyes drooping, with that realization that I was not where I felt I should be in that moment.
It was a mixture of the song (Though listening to trance music on the subway is a really bad idea for me in general, because it always ends up bringing back memories of Barcelona; for some reason most of the time I listen to trance I'm reminded of Barcelona. I think my 2008 trip and waking up to the A State of Trance 2007 album ruined me forever.), the public transportation, and the plain and simple fact that I am, quite simply, not in Barcelona came together in a crazy blend of nostalgia, leaving me hit as if by a freight train. How lovely.
I honestly don't think I'll ever get this out of my system. I love the music too much, I love that city too much. I don't think it'll ever leave my system until I manage to actually live there. Sure, at this point I can navigate the city like a native despite the fact that I've only been there three times and for no longer than six days. Sure, I feel like I live there whenever I'm there because I tend to avoid the tourist traps like the plague (I have still never paid a duro to visit any of Gaudí's monuments; I've only technically been to Parc Güell and that place is free, thank God) regardless of how pretentious that makes me sound. But until I can actually get to truly experience the city the way it should be experienced: as a native, as someone who only goes in there for business/education and otherwise tends to avoid it (I want to live in Terrassa, hohoho), basically, until I can find something to dislike about it I will probably end up missing it forever.
Though to be fair, I still miss Bilbao and Getxo and I lived there for two and a half years. So I guess I'll probably always end up missing Barcelona. Meaning I will probably be spending the rest of my life wishing I were there. Such is my destiny.
dijous, 27 de gener del 2011
Is it really that hard to do a good job portraying Spain, Hollywood?
Branching off from the poetry theme for a bit here. This is a scene from CSI: NY which features characters from Barcelona, and the guy here is supposed to be a Mosso d'Esquadra, a member of the Catalan national police.
And no, that is not Catalan he's speaking. What's worse, it's not even Castilian. It's a Puerto Rican accent (I believe). A police officer, in New York, whose police body the woman investigator knows because she worked with them in Madrid after the 2004 terrorist attacks (which the Mossos don't have jurisdiction over). Who speaks in a Puerto Rican accent, in a language that he probably would not normally speak.
Now, props to CSI for actually naming the Mossos d'Esquadra and the part of the world they're from. But my complaints far outweigh the positives here. Such as the fact that the Mossos aren't "the Barcelona police", they're the Catalan national police. Though at least the general geographic area is correct. And even if the Catalan language is taken out of the equation (Who knows, he could be someone for whom Catalan isn't his mother tongue and is more likely to speak Castilian to himself!), at least make the accent correct. Yes, I am going to be a stickler about this because Spain is not a Latin American country. Even within Latin America there are many different accents, many varying within the countries as well. Same with Spain. The Castilian accent is simply different than any Latin American accent, and Spaniards are very indignant about this. I am indignant about this.
I really wonder why it's so hard for the US film industry to properly portray Spain correctly. In Spain they love to talk about a MacGuyver episode which featured Basque terrorists, using Mexican imagery and accents to portray the Basques. There's also the atrocities of Mission: Impossible 2 and Knight and Day, the former featuring a Semana Santa procession in Sevilla which involved burning the saints (I think someone confused Semana Santa with Valencia's Fallas...) and the latter apparently features a running of the bulls Pamplona-style in the Andalusian capital as well. Really, guys? That's what you're doing to a country with an incredibly rich culture and history? You're turning it anecdotal and backwards? Confusing it with Mexican culture really isn't doing anyone any favors. Not the Basques, not the Mexicans. Then there's Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which tried so hard and yet failed so very very badly, precisely because it tried too hard.
It's not even fun anymore. I don't like seeing what Hollywood does to Spain, and Spaniards are sick of it too. They deserve a decent representation of their country's beauty, regardless of the part of the country is being focused on. But I guess it is too much to ask of a film industry that portrays high schools in their own country in ways they are definitely not to properly portray a foreign country so misunderstood. Hollywood definitely isn't helping in that aspect though, for sure.
And no, that is not Catalan he's speaking. What's worse, it's not even Castilian. It's a Puerto Rican accent (I believe). A police officer, in New York, whose police body the woman investigator knows because she worked with them in Madrid after the 2004 terrorist attacks (which the Mossos don't have jurisdiction over). Who speaks in a Puerto Rican accent, in a language that he probably would not normally speak.
Now, props to CSI for actually naming the Mossos d'Esquadra and the part of the world they're from. But my complaints far outweigh the positives here. Such as the fact that the Mossos aren't "the Barcelona police", they're the Catalan national police. Though at least the general geographic area is correct. And even if the Catalan language is taken out of the equation (Who knows, he could be someone for whom Catalan isn't his mother tongue and is more likely to speak Castilian to himself!), at least make the accent correct. Yes, I am going to be a stickler about this because Spain is not a Latin American country. Even within Latin America there are many different accents, many varying within the countries as well. Same with Spain. The Castilian accent is simply different than any Latin American accent, and Spaniards are very indignant about this. I am indignant about this.
I really wonder why it's so hard for the US film industry to properly portray Spain correctly. In Spain they love to talk about a MacGuyver episode which featured Basque terrorists, using Mexican imagery and accents to portray the Basques. There's also the atrocities of Mission: Impossible 2 and Knight and Day, the former featuring a Semana Santa procession in Sevilla which involved burning the saints (I think someone confused Semana Santa with Valencia's Fallas...) and the latter apparently features a running of the bulls Pamplona-style in the Andalusian capital as well. Really, guys? That's what you're doing to a country with an incredibly rich culture and history? You're turning it anecdotal and backwards? Confusing it with Mexican culture really isn't doing anyone any favors. Not the Basques, not the Mexicans. Then there's Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which tried so hard and yet failed so very very badly, precisely because it tried too hard.
It's not even fun anymore. I don't like seeing what Hollywood does to Spain, and Spaniards are sick of it too. They deserve a decent representation of their country's beauty, regardless of the part of the country is being focused on. But I guess it is too much to ask of a film industry that portrays high schools in their own country in ways they are definitely not to properly portray a foreign country so misunderstood. Hollywood definitely isn't helping in that aspect though, for sure.
Ode to Spain
Another poem I love, also in Catalan. This time it's by late 19th century poet Joan Maragall (the date here is 1898; it's also written after the standardization of the Catalan language by linguist Pompeu Fabra, and you can compare the orthography to that in "L'Emigrant"). It's a nationalistic piece, written during the Spanish-American War which Catalunya was heavily opposed to, as it perpetuated Spain's imperial dominance, which Catalans felt needed to end (as they consider themselves occupied by Spain). I just feel that the nationalism here is more "positive" towards Spain in the sense that it doesn't have this sense of antipathy; just more of a "wake up". But the final stanza...that has to be my favorite in the entire thing. Very powerful.
Escolta Espanya, la veu d'un fill
que et parla en llengua no castellana;
parlo en la llengua que m'ha donat
la terra aspra:
en'questa llengua pocs t'han parlat;
en l'altra, massa.
T'han parlat massa dels saguntins
i dels que per la pàtria moren:
les teves glòries i els teus records,
records i glòries només de morts:
has viscut trista.
Jo vui parlar-te molt altrament.
Per què vessar la sang inútil?
Dins de les venes vida és la sang,
vida pel d'ara i pels que vindran:
vessada és morta.
Massa pensaves en ton honor
i massa poc en el teu viure:
tràgica duies a mort els fills,
te satisfeies d'honres mortals,
i eren tes festes els funerals,
oh trista Espanya!
Jo he vist els barcos marxar replens
dels fills que duies a que morissin:
somrients marxaven cap a l'atzar;
i tu cantaves vora la mar
com una folla.
On són els barcos? On són els fills?
Pregunta-ho al Ponent i a l'ona brava:
tot ho perderes, no tens ningú.
Espanya, Espanya retorna en tu,
arrenca el plor de mare!
Salva't, oh! salva't de tant de mal;
que el pló et torni fecunda, alegre i viva;
pensa en la vida que tens entorn:
aixeca el front,
somriu als set colors que hi ha en els núvols.
On ets Espanya? No et veig enlloc.
No sents la meva veu atronadora?
No entens aquesta llengua que et parla entre perills?
Has desaprès d'entendre an els teus fills?
Adéu Espanya!
Escolta Espanya, la veu d'un fill
que et parla en llengua no castellana;
parlo en la llengua que m'ha donat
la terra aspra:
en'questa llengua pocs t'han parlat;
en l'altra, massa.
T'han parlat massa dels saguntins
i dels que per la pàtria moren:
les teves glòries i els teus records,
records i glòries només de morts:
has viscut trista.
Jo vui parlar-te molt altrament.
Per què vessar la sang inútil?
Dins de les venes vida és la sang,
vida pel d'ara i pels que vindran:
vessada és morta.
Massa pensaves en ton honor
i massa poc en el teu viure:
tràgica duies a mort els fills,
te satisfeies d'honres mortals,
i eren tes festes els funerals,
oh trista Espanya!
Jo he vist els barcos marxar replens
dels fills que duies a que morissin:
somrients marxaven cap a l'atzar;
i tu cantaves vora la mar
com una folla.
On són els barcos? On són els fills?
Pregunta-ho al Ponent i a l'ona brava:
tot ho perderes, no tens ningú.
Espanya, Espanya retorna en tu,
arrenca el plor de mare!
Salva't, oh! salva't de tant de mal;
que el pló et torni fecunda, alegre i viva;
pensa en la vida que tens entorn:
aixeca el front,
somriu als set colors que hi ha en els núvols.
On ets Espanya? No et veig enlloc.
No sents la meva veu atronadora?
No entens aquesta llengua que et parla entre perills?
Has desaprès d'entendre an els teus fills?
Adéu Espanya!
The Émigré
I'm going to start off this blog with a poem by Catalan poet Jacint Verdaguer of the mid-19th century, called "L'Emigrant", in English "The Émigré".
Dolça Catalunya,
pàtria del meu cor,
quan de tu s'allunya
d'enyorança es mor.
Hermosa vall, bressol de ma infantessa,
blanc Pirineu
marges i rius, ermita al cels suspesa,
per sempre adéu!
Arpes del bosc, pinsans i caderneres,
cantau, cantau,
Jo dic plorant a boscos i riberes:
adéu-siau!
¿On trobaré tos sanitosos climes,
ton cel daurat?
mes ai, mes ai! ¿on trobaré tes cimes,
bell Montserrat?
Enlloc veuré, ciutat de Barcelona,
ta hermosa Seu,
ni eixos turons, joiells de la corona
que et posà Déu.
Adéu, germans; adéu-siau, mon pare,
no us veuré més!
oh! si al fossar on jau ma dolça mare,
jo el llit tingués!
Oh mariners, el vent que me'n desterra
que en fa sofrir!
Estic malalt, mes ai! tornau-me a terra
que hi vull morir!*
I feel that the beauty of this poem is not just in the language (Catalan is my third language, yet I don't have too many difficulties working through the older versions, pre-Pompeu Fabra), which it is partly, but also in the elegies of Catalonia and the city of Barcelona itself. That first stanza: "Sweet Catalonia / my heart's homeland / when away from you / one dies of longing" is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. I think one of the reasons I'm so fascinated with Catalonia and Catalan culture is their sense of national pride. Not just in their language and history but in their country. The geographical features that make it up are nothing but beautiful to them.
I find the title of the poem rather telling as well: "The Émigré", which tells of one who is leaving his country, leaving his homeland and going somewhere else. Yet the entire poem, short as it may be, only mentions the author's home, his country, his homeland. That is where he wishes to carry out his days. Not traveling, not wandering. At home. There is, after all, no place like home.
*Translation after the jump
Dolça Catalunya,
pàtria del meu cor,
quan de tu s'allunya
d'enyorança es mor.
| I |
blanc Pirineu
marges i rius, ermita al cels suspesa,
per sempre adéu!
Arpes del bosc, pinsans i caderneres,
cantau, cantau,
Jo dic plorant a boscos i riberes:
adéu-siau!
| II |
ton cel daurat?
mes ai, mes ai! ¿on trobaré tes cimes,
bell Montserrat?
Enlloc veuré, ciutat de Barcelona,
ta hermosa Seu,
ni eixos turons, joiells de la corona
que et posà Déu.
| III |
no us veuré més!
oh! si al fossar on jau ma dolça mare,
jo el llit tingués!
Oh mariners, el vent que me'n desterra
que en fa sofrir!
Estic malalt, mes ai! tornau-me a terra
que hi vull morir!*
I feel that the beauty of this poem is not just in the language (Catalan is my third language, yet I don't have too many difficulties working through the older versions, pre-Pompeu Fabra), which it is partly, but also in the elegies of Catalonia and the city of Barcelona itself. That first stanza: "Sweet Catalonia / my heart's homeland / when away from you / one dies of longing" is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. I think one of the reasons I'm so fascinated with Catalonia and Catalan culture is their sense of national pride. Not just in their language and history but in their country. The geographical features that make it up are nothing but beautiful to them.
I find the title of the poem rather telling as well: "The Émigré", which tells of one who is leaving his country, leaving his homeland and going somewhere else. Yet the entire poem, short as it may be, only mentions the author's home, his country, his homeland. That is where he wishes to carry out his days. Not traveling, not wandering. At home. There is, after all, no place like home.
*Translation after the jump
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