Off-Brands, Off the Grid, and Off with Their Heads!

Off-Brands, Off the Grid, and Off with Their Heads!

Spanish people may be every bit as brand-conscious as Americans; there just seems to be fewer expensive (read: exclusive) brands and fewer people willing to pay for them. Just like in Seattle, I don´t drive here and neither do my friends—at least not very much. You don´t associate people here with the kind of car they drive because you rarely see them behind the wheel. If people here do have cars they mostly keep them hidden away like the crazy uncle you keep in your basement (Don´t forget the food and water!). Most people wear really, really off-brand clothing, inexpensive stuff that all comes in on the boat from China. If you do wear some American brand, it means you are really paying through the nose for it. I suppose that Spain has its share of pijos, or snobs, but as an outsider I don´t notice them, at least not in my neighborhood.

I would go so far as to say that there isn´t anything like a good neighborhood or a bad neighborhood in Valencia. There are a couple of new housing developments on the outskirts of town that cater to more affluent Spaniards. These are really awful places that resemble the worst aspects of American suburbia and have none of the charm of traditional Spanish cities. There are lots of individual homes with gardens and you have to drive everywhere and I hope that people here soon realize the error in this type of urban architecture. I can´t imagine anyone would actually prefer living in this manner when there is such an attractive alternative in any of Valencia´s downtown neighborhoods (this means everywhere in Valencia proper). There are also a few modern apartment blocks near the Ciudad del Las Artes y Ciencias that probably cater to wealthier folks, but once again, the neighborhood lacks any sort of charm. From what I have seen, there are no cool bars or restaurants in these areas so I can´t understand why anyone would chose to live there.

On the other end of the socio-economic spectrum you have my neighborhood of Ruzafa. It has a great mix of immigrants, old Valenciano families, yuppies, hippies, and just about every other class you can think of. If any of the bars and restaurants are expensive or exclusive I haven´t visited them—and I think I´ve been everywhere. The café terraces are filled with doctors, video store clerks, butchers, street sweepers, university professors, and at least one deadbeat, off-the-grid American. Everyone at these places lives a block or two away. I don´t know if the people who live in the pijo neighborhoods come to Ruzafa to hang out, but I am positive that the opposite isn´t true.

The inbred Spanish aristocracy still survives but it hasn´t infected the mentality of the population as much as the idea of exclusivity has infected the thinking of many Americans. It is utterly ridiculous the degree to which we obsess over luxury in America. Name me a product and I can probably name a super-expensive, exclusive variety of it, no matter how mundane its purpose. I mean, is there really a need to separate yourself from the masses by the sort of hyper-expensive camping gear you use or your brand of face soap? I used to call these kinds of products “bourgeois” back when I was in high school and couldn´t afford them; now I just find them to be obnoxious and offensive—especially the ones I still can´t afford.

I suppose that distancing yourself from others with where you live, the clothes you wear, the car you drive, the pots and pans you use to cook, etc. is a lot easier than just becoming an even remotely interesting person and thus becoming truly unique. Consumerism has become a shortcut for people desperate to be different. If you ask 1,000 young kids whether or not they feel they are conformists or nonconformists, I´m sure they will all say that they are different. They all want to be different in the exact, socially-approved manner such as getting a tattoo or a body piercing. People who are truly different scare the living shit out of us normal lemmings. People don´t really want to be different, they just want to be like everyone else in the particular group they wish to join.

Some of these groups are harder to get into than others. The luxury club simply limits membership by the price tags they use. None of this shit that you buy really says anything about you except that you had the money or the credit to pay for it. These exclusive brand names are nothing more than the coat of arms for the new, wannabe aristocrats.

Just be careful with your life of over-indulgence and over-priced luxury items because sometimes bad things happen to thoughtless monarchs; just ask Marie Antoinette. I look at some of our best and brightest and all I can think is, “Now where did we put those guillotines?” Of course, I´m not speaking of decapitation in the literal sense, I just feel we have reached the point where it has become necessary for the health of our democracy to trim the over-growth of the ultra-rich before they completely pollute the middle classes with their empty values of consumerism, greed, and stupidity.

Gym Teachers in the Mist

A Zoological Exploration of One of Mankind´s Closest Relatives

08:20 First Period. We must be very quiet so as not to disturb our sleeping subject. Studies indicate that this particular primate sub-species is dormant for about 80% of the traditional high school work day. He looks so peaceful in repose even though it is a fairly awkward position: leaning back in a folding chair with one hand down the front of his shorts and a newspaper on his lap. But on the far end of the gym floor savannah, trouble is brewing. Another lower primate species, called stoners, are planning an attack on gym teacher. A basketball is launched through the air. Violence may ensue so we abandon the observation area and move farther away from the subject.

Even at this distance, we are able to document the crude verbal communication system employed by gym teacher: A primitive dialect consisting almost entirely of vulgarities and sports aphorisms. Gym teacher screeches at the other primates on the savannah, and threatens to castrate the guilty parties but is unable to identify his attackers. Because of the gym teacher´s extremely basic level of intelligence, he is unable to deduct that those laughing the loudest at this prank are probably responsible. After a minute of angry howling and breast-beating, the gym teacher returns to his lair in the corner and picks up his newspaper which has been scattered in the attack. He turns to the sports section and if you didn't know that they lack the intelligence for it, it almost seems like he is reading. Why are his lips moving? Fascinating.

09:05 Second Period. We have followed gym teacher down the hall to the Sex Education class he is assigned. Why anyone feels that gym teacher is qualified for this role remains a mystery to this group of scientists. From his obscene, politically incorrect ramblings on the subject of human sexuality—not to mention his pending trial on charges of indecency—this choice seems about as wise as hiring a lynch mob to teach a class on criminal justice. However, if you look in his briefcase he has several magazines with glossy photos of humans in various stages of intercourse, so perhaps he takes this subject more seriously than we think.

11:30 Fourth Period. Gym teacher is more at home here in his native habitat, the gym. In the classroom he was uncomfortable and out of his element, what with all of those books, pens, and papers lying around. Although he cannot seem to correctly grasp a writing instrument, he is able to employ certain tools. He has mastered the use of the whistle, another primitive form of communication that our studies indicate has only a single message: “Shut the fuck up, you bunch a pansies! I mean it!” He also carries around a clipboard he uses to scream out the names of some of the lesser primates on the gym floor. If these names are of foreign origin, gym teacher mispronounces them so badly that they become ethnic slurs.

12:20 Feeding Time. One of the downsides of studying this animal at close quarters is being forced to watch it eat. Even as far as lower primates go, this isn´t a pretty sight. At what we felt was a relatively safe distance of three meters, we are still sprayed with bits of bologna sandwich, fruit cup, and Funions®. At least we are not forced to share the same table with gym teacher like the unfortunate female substitute teacher that he is sexually harassing. To further demonstrate his sexual authority, gym teacher playfully pats the ass of the 60 year old lunch lady. We theorize that his belching and flatulence are also part of this peculiar mating ritual.

1:18 Fifth Period. He is sheltered from the attacks of the lower primates while he is in his den, or office as he calls it. He seems to have nodded off while studying one of his magazines on human reproduction. The fact that two of the models in the magazine are dressed as cheerleaders, violating at least a half a dozen school board regulations, doesn't seem to affect the tranquility of his sleep in any way. Perhaps the three cans of warm beer he consumed have aided his rest. When it is time for gym teacher to attend his next class, a singing fish alarm clock violently erupts. Startled, gym teacher comically falls backwards in his chair and strikes his head against a file cabinet. Thirty seconds of an aria of profanity follows.

2:45 Sixth Period. We are observing the grooming habits of the gym teacher at disturbingly close range. Although he spends a good part of his day watching the lower animals in the showers, he himself doesn't appear to bath. We note instead a vast array of techniques that include nose picking, crotch grabbing, ear digging, and butt scratching. We have named a certain nose-clearing technique after him wherein he uses a finger to plug one nostril and blows violently through the other, shooting a stream of mucus across his desk. We call it the "gym teacher's handkerchief."

After the end of the work day we are able to follow gym teacher's whereabouts by means of a tracking device we implanted inside of his Members Only® jacket. On his way home, he makes stops at a strip club, an adult video rental outlet, his sports bookie, a liquor store, a tavern, and a massage parlor called "Ham Yankees." In the spirit of scientific inquiry we look through his mail before he arrives at his home to find a stack of nasty invoices from legitimate collection agencies as well as death threats from Mafia bookies, child support reminders, and a handful of restraining orders. We attempt to observe gym teacher through the window in his kitchen. We are able to remain hidden from gym teacher until one of our scientists bursts out laughing when, in the course of a phone call with one of his collection agencies, gym teacher gives his occupation as "educator."

Chameleons: Not Me, Not Yet

I meet people all the time who could easily pass for British, or German, or Spanish, or French but were born in a country other than the country whose language they now speak perfectly. I really admire these linguistic chameleons. It´s not the people who learned their second, third, or fourth language as a child, but the ones who reached their bilingual status through their own hard work as adults. Unfortunately, because of the cruel nature of the human propensity for learning languages, those of us who began learning a second language later in life are doomed to always carry with us some hint of an accent (or a full-blown whooper of an accent). I don´t mind the fact that I will always speak Spanish with an American lilt to it; I just want to reach the point in which I am completely comfortable in Spanish—reading, speaking, listening, and writing.

I have made the most progress in the reading department. I feel that reading is absolutely essential in developing vocabulary and strengthening grammar understanding. I try to read at least 40 pages of Spanish every day. I am currently reading El Árbol del la Ciencia by Pío Baroja, a Spanish writer who was supposedly a big influence on Ernest Hemingway. Besides all of the new vocabulary that I learn when I read a novel, I also try to concentrate on certain grammar patterns as I read. On some days I will pick out every instance of the use of por and para, two words that mean “for” but with different rules of use, often confusingly so. Other days I will examine every single use of the subjunctive which is used heavily in Romance languages. My French has improved greatly as my Spanish gets better simply because they have similar grammar structures.

I have found that reading books that have been translated into Spanish are often easier for me to read than native Spanish literature. I don´t know why this is but probably has something to do with the fact that translators are not finding new ways to say something in Spanish, but are simply moving an idea from one language to another. Maybe my observation has no linguistic merit, but it just seems that I have an easier time reading translations. Now I feel that my reading comprehension is good enough that I can start tackling some more ambitious works in Spanish literature. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Reading is also a good way to develop a certain degree of cultural literacy in Spanish. Educated people in every language are able to speak in a sort of linguistic shorthand because they have a common cultural background. When someone talks about Hamlet, all natives of the English language who have read Shakespeare are aware of the facts of the case, so to speak. Two important works in Spanish, don Quixote and Tirant lo Blanc (one of the first great works of Spanish literature written in Valenciano), are part of this circle of Spanish cultural literacy that I hope to enter. Don Quixote is difficult to read for native Spanish speakers and I don´t know any Valenciano, so I have picked up both of these works in children´s editions (both in Spanish, not Valenciano). I now can say that I have read both of these great works. I will fail to tell my impressed Spanish friends that the copies that I read of these icons of Spanish literature had lovely cartoon illustrations, but what they don´t know won´t hurt them.

I am nowhere near where I would like to be as far as speaking Spanish. I am becoming increasingly more comfortable. I was in a crowded bar the other night and I met a Spanish guy who spoke perfect English. After I complimented him on this fact I promptly returned to speaking Spanish. I took it as a great compliment the fact that he didn´t find my Spanish too tedious to follow. I just feel stupid speaking English with Spanish folks, no matter how well they have learned my language. I think that I just feel self-conscious about coming across as the dumb, monoglot American. Of course, I may be betraying myself when I choose to speak Spanish, but you have to start somewhere.

The problem with reading and learning all these new words is that you have to start using them or they will never sink in. I was at a party this Saturday when I was desperately reaching for a phrase that I just learned which means “to drink from the bottle.” I knew that it had something to do with some part of the body. I asked around the table and I was inundated with phrases other than the one I was trying to remember. Evidently, the Spanish like to drink directly from the bottle because it seems like everyone in attendance had their own way to say this. I finally pulled out my trusty notebook of vocabulary and found what I was looking for: beber a morro. Morro can mean snout or fried pork rinds. I don´t think that I will forget that expression again. Another tactic of mine that I don´t do nearly enough is to read out loud in Spanish. Whenever I do this I immediately feel more comfortable in my speaking ability.

I feel a particular jealousy for native Romance language speakers as they are able to learn Spanish quite quickly. I think this is especially true for Rumanians, Italians, and people who speak Portuguese. The French seem to have a bit harder time but maybe I am wrong about this. All these folks share a very common set of rules for grammar, gender use, and vocabulary. English is quite a bit different but at least we have it easier than, let´s say, the Chinese or Arabs who must learn everything from scratch, even the alphabet. I can´t complain.

Mi Mascota

I´d much rather have a dog but for now a turtle will have to do. You can´t take him for walks, and he won´t return a Frisbee, but he´s a lot more entertaining than a tank of fish. I used to call him El Conde de Monte Cristo because he was forever trying to escape, but I got him a much bigger tank to swim around in so now he seems either resigned to the fact that he ain´t getting out, or he is content with his new quarters. Now I just call him Schmurtle. After worrying all winter because he never ate anything, now he has become a carnivorous pain in the ass that needs to be fed constantly. If I somehow forget to throw him some food in the morning, you can hear him splashing around furiously. He eats turtle food from the pet store. I also found that he likes the flies that I catch in the apartment. Fly catching is fairly time-consuming and not too productive, so he mainly lives on these little fish that I bought in the seafood section of the supermarket. He loves his little pescaditos and will swallow them whole if he is hungry enough, and he´s almost always hungry enough. I let him bite my finger once. I won´t fucking let that happen again as I thought he was going to take off a hunk. He has quite a set of jaws and some sharp teeth. The next project is finding a filter for his tank because he dirties it up in a hurry with the amount of dead fish he eats. I have to clean it out every week or so. He´s a good little swimmer and I have thought that he may want to be released into the wild when he gets a little older. I have a nice little place picked out for him in La Albufera that is a brackish pond with access to the Mediterranean. I don´t know if he can make it on his own because he is so used to having fish literally dumped on his head. Sometimes I make him work really hard to get his pescadito just to keep things honest.

Copa del Rey


Valencia CF 3, Getafe 1 CF

Not that anyone cares outside of Spain, and not many people care in Spain, but Valencia CF won the Copa del Rey title last night in Madrid. This is a tournament that takes place inside the Spanish football league. It still looks like Real Madrid is going to win the league title again this year and that´s what really counts. The Copa del Rey is a bit of a consolation for Valencia after this year´s rather disastrous season. Yippe! Next week begins the semi finals of the Champions league with Barcelona facing Manchester United. Chelsea and Liverpool will fight it out on the other side of the bracket.