Paul de Pulpo: loved in all the wrong ways
Day three of the Institute, day six of my time in Catalunya. The institute itself so far has been quite interesting, we’ve had a guest lectures on the legacy of slavery, post-colonial politics and academics in France and we’re just finishing up a lecture on South American philosophy. Plus this week’s regular sessions are with Chela Sandoval on 3rd world Feminism & Mestiza consciousness and Tiffany Ruby Patterson on Womanism.
A group of us took the train from Tarragona into Barcelona on Saturday to do some sightseeing. We were a little surprised at just how many people were on the train at 9am on a weekend morning. We didn’t find out until that night on the ride home that apparently there had been a march in support of Catalan autonomy with over a million people in Placa d’Catalunya in Barcelona. We saw a ton of people walking around with the Catalunya flag, but aside from that, we had absolutely no idea there was a massive protest going on elsewhere in the city. Their stickers all said "Nosotros decidimos, somos una nacion" (We decided, we are one nation), which was a direct retort to the recent ruling of the Spanish constitutional court that said Catalunya was not legally allowed to refer to itself as a nation, only Spain was a nation and it was singular and whole. The Catalans did not take that well, obviously.
Oh, and I went here. (this is what happens when you forget to turn the flash on, lol)
Then last night we watched the World Cup final in a bar in Placa del Font in Tarragona. It was a most excellent time to be had, in our group we had maybe 5 Americans, a Mexican, a Brazilian, a Portuguesa, a French, an Italian, a Columbian, a Canadian and we were ALL rooting for Spain. Most everyone (except for the 3 men with us) was first amazed, then amused by my ridiculous knowledge of the Spanish team. Any time anyone needed to know who that player was, or where so and so played, several of them turned to look at me. Two ladies declared they were simply rooting for Iker Casillas, one defected for Jesus Navas after he got subbed in late in the game. It was, in short, a fantastic time.
After the game people poured out of the bars into the streets and headed for this one fountain near the center of the city screaming and chanting. Villa, Villa, Maravilla! Chants for Iniesta and Puyol. I even have a video of the crowd cheering for Paul the Octopus at one point. :) Most interestingly, one of the most common chants was "Yo so Espanol, Espanol, Espanol!" (I am Spanish, Spanish, Spanish!). Quite a striking difference from the warning we received on the train from a man not 24 hours earlier when he told us to never mistake the Catalans for Spaniards.
A group of us took the train from Tarragona into Barcelona on Saturday to do some sightseeing. We were a little surprised at just how many people were on the train at 9am on a weekend morning. We didn’t find out until that night on the ride home that apparently there had been a march in support of Catalan autonomy with over a million people in Placa d’Catalunya in Barcelona. We saw a ton of people walking around with the Catalunya flag, but aside from that, we had absolutely no idea there was a massive protest going on elsewhere in the city. Their stickers all said "Nosotros decidimos, somos una nacion" (We decided, we are one nation), which was a direct retort to the recent ruling of the Spanish constitutional court that said Catalunya was not legally allowed to refer to itself as a nation, only Spain was a nation and it was singular and whole. The Catalans did not take that well, obviously.
Oh, and I went here. (this is what happens when you forget to turn the flash on, lol)
Then last night we watched the World Cup final in a bar in Placa del Font in Tarragona. It was a most excellent time to be had, in our group we had maybe 5 Americans, a Mexican, a Brazilian, a Portuguesa, a French, an Italian, a Columbian, a Canadian and we were ALL rooting for Spain. Most everyone (except for the 3 men with us) was first amazed, then amused by my ridiculous knowledge of the Spanish team. Any time anyone needed to know who that player was, or where so and so played, several of them turned to look at me. Two ladies declared they were simply rooting for Iker Casillas, one defected for Jesus Navas after he got subbed in late in the game. It was, in short, a fantastic time.
After the game people poured out of the bars into the streets and headed for this one fountain near the center of the city screaming and chanting. Villa, Villa, Maravilla! Chants for Iniesta and Puyol. I even have a video of the crowd cheering for Paul the Octopus at one point. :) Most interestingly, one of the most common chants was "Yo so Espanol, Espanol, Espanol!" (I am Spanish, Spanish, Spanish!). Quite a striking difference from the warning we received on the train from a man not 24 hours earlier when he told us to never mistake the Catalans for Spaniards.