Catalans, North Africans, and Gringos

Street Learnings
You may have heard that time operates differently in Spain.  Truth.  It's not so much that Spaniards don't value your time (like when they show up an hour late for an appointment), it's that they expect you to have the same lax attitude towards it that they do.  Even though I knew this going in, I was still surprised to learn that my masters classes, due to "administrative complications," were delayed from the 29th of September to the 20th of October.  Ay dios mio-tiempo libre inesperado!  Luckily, boredom is not an ailment I suffer from, especially in a great place like this.  So I've been doing some extracurricular learning on the streets before I take off for a beach vacation.  Below is a very brief glance of three key groups of people in the city: Catalans, Northern Africans, and Gringos.


Catalans

I chose this picture because 1) depicting sexuality and gender using Coppertone babies makes me chuckle. 2) More relevant to our discussion-the poster is in Catalan.  Catalan is the native language here.  It's a mix of Spanish, French, Portugese, and Italian (not that knowing any of these guarantees comprehension).  


Catalan is everywhere, and it's a fundamental aspect of regionalist pride.  It's recent resurgence is a reaction to the Franco era (from 1936 to 1975, sheesh!), when it was banned from schools and public offices.  Nowadays everyone born in Barcelona learns Catalan and Spanish at the same time.  Pamphlets are in Catalan; street signs are in Catalan; even my yoga class was in Catalan.  


To give an example of how academically entrenched it is: the director of my masters program in "immigration and intercultural education" gave me a book to read before classes start--in Catalan.  He didn't even have it in Spanish.  Ironic, no?  But hey, it's a kick in the butt to learn it so I can start making local friends.


Beyond language, Catalan culture could fill walls of anthropology books.  Some broad generalizations that I will refine later: Catalans are suspicious of foreigners, centralist government, and anyone who doesn't like soccer.  And with that tidbit I'll move on to the guiris, aka foreigners.




Northern Africans

As far as I've seen on the streets and heard from smart people, there are not many Michele Obamas or Colin Powells of Barcelona.  I use political examples because that's how I'm wired, but what I mean to say is that there's no sizable black upper-middle class.  Or even a middle class for that matter.  The majority of black people seem to be lower-class immigrants, and many of those are from north-African countries like Morocco.


The men I've seen (like this one), sell fake designer purses and watches on the streets.  They mostly work in the super-touristy areas like Las Ramblas or down by the water in Barceloneta, trying to catch gringos in a moment of consumer weakness.  If you look in the bottom right corner, you'll see that the purses in the background are laying on a cloth tied with string.  That's so when the Barca-po (police in Genna-speak) come to kick them off the sidewalk or check their papers, they can pick up the goods and take off lickety split.


The immigrant women from northern Africa are another sad story.  Let's just say that they try to catch people in a moment of more physical weakness..  Unfortunately prostitution in Barcelona is a burgeoning industry that preys upon the dependency of new arrivals.  I've heard horror stories of African women who are enticed to come to Spain with promises of nannying jobs and the like, only to be forced (enslaved really) into prostitution when they get here, with no way out.


For me the most curious part is the governmental response.  In 1989, the city government outlawed meubles (motels that rent by the hour) to prevent prostitution in neighborhoods.  Of course that just pushed everything out onto the streets, making it more unsafe and more obvious.  And now when the police arrest prostitutes for lack of proper papers, they have no legal recourse other than holding them for 40 days, because if the authorities can't prove where the women are from, they can't send them back.  So the cycle continues, leaving these women unprotected from abuse and giving the city a bad public image.


I for one think they should bring the meubles back and find ways to make the practice safe.  Hopefully I'll learn more about north African immigrants in my real studies, if they ever start..




Gringos 

(Disclaimer: Pete by no means typifies gringos as defined below.  I use this shot because of the Statue of Liberty in the background).


Meet Pete.  Pete is technically a gringo, as am I.  My Chilean roommate calls us the progeny of Uncle Sam.  I call us whities.  Depending on who you ask, gringos can include some Europeans and Canadians as well.


You probably know the stereotype of U.S. tourists (note I don't say American, because that would include Mexico, Canada, and South America).  According to our reputation, we are wealthy, fat, selfish, easily stooped, imperialistic, capitalistic, and more.


Unsurprisingly, some gringos in Barcelona fit the stereotype like a glove.  Almost every day I'm struck by the idiocy of someone from the states, walking around with their map in front of their eyes, their purse wide open for anyone to steal from. Didn't you read about the pickpockets before you came here?!  Even worse than witnessing gringo cluelessness is overhearing conversations that are completely culturally insensitive or just plain ignorant.


I do my best to counter these stereotypes and promote a positive image of the states, while admitting our many imperfections.  People laugh when I introduce myself as Genna the gringa (the term is pejorative-I'm reclaiming it); but they appreciate when I speak in clear Spanish and seem genuinely curious about their story.  It's hard to measure my success rate, though my roommate jokes that since meeting me he now likes exactly 4 gringos: me, the parents that bore me, and my sister.  Hey, it's a start.  I remain optimistic.




Hasta pronto!
Bueno chicos, until next blog.  And next time I'll try to include more juicy travel stories and less amateur analysis of social groups.  


As always I'm left with a million things to say and not enough room to say them, so give a holler if you want to hear more about something in particular.  Or just in general.


un abrazo