QuinnRoads

LEARNING SPANISH

Part 2a

In which the blog writer receives his comeuppance

The last blog, Learning Spanish part 2, was about the difficulty Kay and I have understanding Spanish as it is spoken in Andalucia, what might be referred to a Spanish Southern accent. The people of Granada speak too rapidly, too loudly and drop their consonants.
It has been brought to my attention that a person trying to learn English might have difficulty understanding the language as I speak it. I have a strange Southern accent, speak too rapidly and fail to enunciate both consonants and vowels. This I confess to be true.
I would like to thank my former friend for this kind observation. Recognizing this common speech characteristic has made me feel muy sympático with the people of Granada. Like myself, Granadinos know what it is to be ridiculed for the way we speak.
I Am A Granadino!

LEARNING SPANISH

Part 2

During Which We Encounter
Many Marbles, A Doe and Some Breasts

Just before coming to Spain, we picked up a copy of V.S. Pritchett’s book, The Spanish Temper, Travels in Spain. According to the English essayist and story writer, “The Andalucians do not lisp the letter “c” or “z” in their speech; they drop out as many consonants as possible from their words and speak fast in shouting, headlong voices as if their mouths were full of marbles. They are very difficult to understand.”
Pritchett did not exaggerate. Granadinos don’t casually drop their consonants, they throw them down, stomp on them, then cover them with olive pits.
Being friendly American types, we say hello to our neighbors and other familiar faces whenever we encounter them. “Buenos dias,” we say.
“Bon dia,” they reply. Sometimes just “Bon.”
“Muchas gracias,” we say to the waiter when he brings us our food.
“Mucha gracia,” he says when we pay him.
“Hasta luego,” we wave upon leaving. See you later.
“Aluego,” we hear. Or perhaps, “Adio.”
“Cuanto cuesta esto?” we ask, wanting to know what something cost.
“Doe,” comes the answer.
Doe? Doe? Isn’t doe a deer, a female deer? What happened to “dos?” as in “uno, dos, thres, cuatro, cinco.”
Then there was the time when Kay, buying cheese, asked, “Quiero tres cientos gramos, por favor.” I want three hundred grams, please.
The girl behind the counter looked at Kay as if she were speaking a foreign language. Which, of course, she was, but that’s not the point here. Kay repeated herself slowly and carefully.
“Tres cientos gramos, por favor.”
Another quizzical look. Then the girl held up three fingers.
“Tray?” she asked.
Tray? How are we going to learn Spanish if they refuse to speak it to us?
Watching television, we were advised, is a good way to learn to hear Spanish, as the newsreaders speak proper Castilian Spanish. We have a television. We watch. We listen. We recognize (possibly) one word out of 20 as they fly by at a rate of about ten per second.
In order to keep up with the voice over, the on-screen, written advertisements wiz by in the blink of an eye. It’s like watching movie credits on fast forward. Are the Spanish able to speed-speak, speed-listen and speed-read?
There was one weather reporter, a lovely young woman, who spoke clearly and slowly. She was wonderful. We could understand almost half of what she said. She disappeared months ago. My theory is that she spoke so slowly, compared to other newscasters, that viewers either fell asleep or changed channels.
Another difficulty we have in understanding spoken Spanish is that everyone speaks very loudly at the same time. In America, competing monologues last only as long as it takes for one speaker to establish dominance. The loudest, most persistent voice wins, the others listen. Not in Spain. No one gives in, everyone simply speaks louder.
A couple of months ago, we asked our upstairs neighbor to come down to our apartment while the landlord was here and do a bit translating for us. At the conclusion of our business, they began a discussion of their own. They both spoke, simultaneously and at considerable volume, for at least fifteen minutes. Neither stopped once, yet both seemed to have understood everything the other said. They seemed so pleased by whatever it was they had agreed on, they even shook hands on it.
We manage to make – and survive ? our own communication fenderbenders. On one of Kay’s first visits to the central market, she asked for seno, filete. What she wanted was filleted chicken breasts. What she had ordered, in Spanish, was boned and thinly sliced bosom. The butcher didn’t blink. He carefully boned and sliced the thick chicken breast and handed it over. The next time she asked for pechuga, filete. If he remembered her first order, he never let on.
Kay does have a pet peeve. In Mexico, a married couple is spoken of as el esposo y la esposa, the husband and the wife; in Spain, el marido y la mujer, the husband and the woman. Why, she asked, is she la mujer and not la esposa? Reminding her that las esposas also means handcuffs did not help.

SEMANA SANTA

Semana Santa, or Holy Week, is the most important religious celebration of the year in Spain. Beginning on Palm Sunday, for eight days religious processions wind their way through the city streets. The processions in Andalucia are the most spectacular in Spain and visitors from all over the country as well as Europe crowd the cities to view them. Needless to say, reservations must be made well in advance and prices skyrocket.
Thirty-four processions were scheduled to take place in Granada. Although no two processions are identical, they include the following:
Paso - The most important element of the procession is the paso, in parade parlance, a float. There are usually two. The pasos are not wide, perhaps eight feet, as they have to pass through the church doors and narrow lanes of the city. They are about 12-feet long and 20-feet tall. Each paso, which can weigh more than 3,000 pounds, is carried by approximately 28-35 men. All you can see of them is their identically clad feet under the curtain that surrounds the paso.
The pasos carry at least one life-size figure. Jesus is always on the first paso. He may be carrying the cross, on the cross or riding a donkey. There may be disciples or Roman soldiers. We saw one that depicted Jesus being visited by an angel while sitting under the olive tree. Yes, a real olive tree.
The second paso carries Mary. She is often under a canopy with rays of purity emanating from of her head.
The pasos are quite ornate and many are very old. The sides are made of intricately carved wood or bas-relief imagines of bronze or silver depicting saints or scenes from the bible. The top is covered with flowers, not unlike a Rose Parade float. As they pass through the crowded streets, a few people reach out and touch them, then kiss their fingers and make the sign of the cross.
The Penitents - The long robes and tall, pointed hoods worn by the penitents are strikingly similar to those worn by the Ku Klux Klan. The hoods are almost two feet tall and have two small eyeholes. We saw a number of colors: white, black, purple, blue, gold, green and red.
Ladies in Black - Each wears a black dress, lace gloves (usually black), black shoes and a black peineta (tall hair comb) from which a long, black, lace mantilla falls as far down as the knees. They walk two abreast and carry rosary beads in one hand and an enormous candle in the other.
Children – In addition to alter boys and girls swinging incense, there are usually dozens of children in robes who scurry about re-lighting candles. Sometimes groups of small children in costume, tiny shepherds for instance, walk hand in hand with their parents.
Bands – Most processions have two bands, one at the beginning or near the beginning, the second near or at the end. A few processions have only drums. Every band we’ve seen wore traditional marching band uniforms. Most bands have a bugle section, a brass section and a drum section. The music is unlike anything we’ve ever heard – the bugles mournful and shrill, the drums pounding.
Some processions also include a small military detachment.

April has been a wet month, and the twelve processions scheduled for Thursday, Friday and Saturday were rained out. We saw seven processions, two which came by our apartment and one from its beginning at the church.
Wednesday afternoon was a warm and sunny. Procession schedule and route guide in hand, we walked down to Grand Via de Colon, one of Granada’s main boulevards. The procession was scheduled to begin at 5:30. The street had been blocked off and thousands of people packed the wide boulevard and sidewalks. People stood on the balconies and hung out the windows of the surrounding buildings. Television platforms had been erected and were manned (the local stations devote hours every evening to coverage of the event). By 5:00 it was almost impossible to move.
At the appointed hour, a hooded figure approached the closed door of the church and pounded forcefully, as if demanding to be let in. The tall doors opened, and the hooded figure entered. Moments later, the procession began its long exit of the church. The first to emerge were the hooded penitents, some holding aloft crosses. They walked three abreast through the narrow lane left by the viewers.
The real drama now began. The pasos, while being carried, are taller than the church doors are high and almost as wide. To get through they must be lowered by a foot or two. Sometimes the carriers do this by coming out on their knees.
It is, as you might expect, extremely important that the carriers work in unison. Each paso has two or three, black-suited directors who talk to the carriers through openings in the front and back. They signal to the carriers and coordinate their movements using something akin to a giant doorknocker on the edge of the paso.
Still inside the church, the paso creeps towards the doors. Once there, it’s lowered just enough to clear. They move very, very slowly through the doors onto a ramp that has been built over the steps. Once outside the paso goes down again. The carriers gather themselves. The director alerts the carriers, then signals them with a series of knocks, usually one, two, three and UP! The paso pops up as if it on a spring. The crowd applauds its approval.
The paso moves very slowly down the ramp, makes a gentle turn onto the street, then joins the waiting procession. The carriers move in unison, left, right, left right, which produces a side-to-side sway. Following the first paso were another hundred or two penitents and children.
The procession moved very slowly. Every 200 meters or so, the paso is lowered. A few minutes later, the carriers rested, the signal is given and up it comes. This is always greeted with enthusiastic applause. Everyone must know how difficult it must be to get 3,000 pounds up again.

We were very fortunate that the first procession on Palm Sunday came down our street at 6 p.m. We invited two American couples that we’d met to join us for wine, tapas and viewing. Our street is very narrow and the figures on the pasos would pass by only feet from our three balconies. Not even the viewing stands afforded a better view.
First came the band, about 40 members strong. After that came a long line of penitents, then the ladies in black and the candle-lighting children. A few hooded figures, acting as parade marshals, moved back and forth through the ranks keeping the lines straight and eliminating gaps.
The first paso depicted Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. This was followed by penitents, more ladies in black, more children, then the second paso carrying Mary. At the end of the procession came the second band, and trailing that the balloon seller. The procession had lasted about 30 minutes.
Another procession came by at nine that night.
At some point on its route, each procession passes in front of city hall, where viewing stands have been erected, and through the cathedral, entering through grandstands, up a ramp into the cathedral, then out another door.
Most processions begin in the late afternoon and last eight to ten hours. One begins at 5:30 p.m. and ends at 5:30 a.m. If walking, standing and shuffling for ten hours or more sounds difficult, if not actually painful, remember that participants are offering, or suffering, penitence. Some routes also include significant hills.
All through the evening and into the night, processions weave their way through the city. Midnight, one o’clock in the morning, then two, then three, the drums beat, the bugles blare, the crowds move from street to plaza to cathedral.
We went out Thursday night after the rains stopped, hoping that the last procession, scheduled to enter the cathedral at 11:30, hadn’t been cancelled. It had, so we walked around. The area around city hall and the cathedral had been closed to traffic, and although it was well after eleven, the streets were thronged with people walking from place to place through the vehicle-empty downtown. Every café, restaurant and bar was filled, and diners and imbibers spilled out onto the sidewalks and streets, beers and tapas in hand. Groups of teenagers, handholding couples and three-generation families promenaded down the boulevards, children joyfully tightrope walking the centerline of the street.
It was a great night to be out on the town in Granada.

OBSERVATIONS ON SPANISH DIGNITY, APPEASEMENT AND ZAPATERO

And Let the Chips Fall Where They May

Kay and I can claim no deep insights into Spanish life and politics. Other than a few conversations with our upstairs neighbor, all we know is what we see in the newspapers and on television. We have, however, made a couple of observations concerning Spain’s response to the March 11 terror.
The first is the national unity demonstrated by the nation as a whole. We observed this first during the enormous outpouring of sorrow and outrage that took place two days after the attacks, when millions of Spanish took to the streets to demonstrate their horror and sadness. If memory serves me correctly, one quarter of the population marched. These marches, which took place in every city and town in Spain, were solemn and heartfelt.
A second example was the memorial service for those who were murdered by the terrorist, which we viewed the on television with our guests Penny and Bob Weiss. The service took place in the cathedral in Madrid. Taking part were King Juan Carlos, Queen Sofia, Prince Felipe, his fiancée and other members of the royal family. In attendance were Prime Ministers Aznar, Tony Blair, as well as Colin Powell and other foreign dignitaries. Much of the congregation appeared to be composed of the families of the slain and injured.
At the conclusion of the service, the king, queen (who was visibly weeping) and the rest of the royal family moved out into the cathedral to offer their personal condolences to the families. They walked the aisles and moved into the pews, shaking hands, hugging people, touching cheeks, holding hands, exchanging kisses, patting backs, pausing time and time again to share a few words with mourning family members, who numbered in the hundreds. This emotional and tearful personal contact went on for some time. This was not a rushed “photo op.” The king and his family took as much time as was required, while the attending dignitaries waited quietly.
We found the royal family’s dignity and sincerity very moving. King Juan Carlos, who is very well liked and respected, seems to hold a special status as a non-partisan, national figure. The royal family reached out to the victim’s families as representatives of Spain and the Spanish people, not. Neither Aznar nor Zapatero, who represent political party, nor their families, could have fulfilled this function. Is there a national figure in American life whose statue transcends politics? Jimmy Carter is close, but he was a Democratic president, so I suppose that eliminates him. This is not a criticism, just an observation.
The King also served in this capacity at another recent Spanish memorial service. When seven Spanish intelligence officers were killed in Iraq, their bodies were received in a state ceremony by the King and Prime Minister. The families were consoled, the fallen honored.
That nationally televised ceremony stands in stark contrast to the Bush administration’s disgraceful and shameful response to the loss of life and limb in Iraq. Has he reached out to the families in a personal and public way? A brief salute to our armed forces during a political speech is not sufficient. Well, I guess a national ceremony acknowledging and honoring those Americans killed or wounded in Iraq could be politically awkward during an election year.
Now for a second observation. The Spanish are indignant that they’ve been accused of appeasing the terrorists. They point out the following:
Zapatero promised to remove Spanish troops from Iraq long before the attack and the election. His position is that the war in Iraq is ill-informed response to terrorism, that its management has proved to be a fiasco, and that it has made the world not a safer place but a more dangerous one. This view is shared, according to a Gallup poll, by 90% of the Spanish people. It is also important to remember that Zapatero promised to remove the troops only in the absence of United Nations leadership.
Polls have also shown that the Aznar administration’s attempt to mislead the public as to responsibility for the bombing was an important factor in the election. In other words, the Spanish public voted against a dishonest government. How could Zapatero break such an important campaign promise and hope to govern? Perhaps he should say to the Spanish people who elected him, “Sorry folks, I know I promised, but they’re calling us chickens and we don’t want that.”
A second point overlooked by those eager to criticize is that Spain has suffered over 800 deaths to the Basque terrorists. Their response has been to get tougher. No appeasement, get tougher. Some think that they’ve been so tough that they’ve increased the desperation of the terrorists.
Kay and I admire the response of the Spanish people to the tragedy of March 11. We respect the democratically expressed intentions of the people and their incoming government, in respect to both Iraq and the European Union. And we cheer the new government’s domestic agenda, which they declare to be nothing less than a social revolution.
According to the New York Times, “Of all the counties in Europe, Spain is already among the most cultured, tolerant and socially liberal.” Well, it’s going to get more so. The Zapatero government plans to legalize some form of gay union, eliminate compulsory religion classes and Catholic dogma from public schools, free medical research from religious restraints, allow women to terminate their pregnancies during the first 12 weeks for any reason and create nonpartisan state television. High on the agenda will be an effort to pass laws eradicating sexism in Spanish society.
This sounds more radical than it is, even in a catholic country, which long suffered under an extremely conservative dictator. Sixty-eight percent of Spaniards favor some sort of gay marriage. Spain’s gay community is active and vocal and individual drug use in the home is tolerated. The Spanish consider the Puritanism of American politics, like the pathetic Monica Lewinsky affair, laughable. Even conservative Prime Minister Aznar’s wife, a devout catholic, is quoted as saying about politicians who commit adultery, “It doesn’t matter if someone has one or two or three or four affairs.”
Last year New York Times columnist and pundit Thomas Friedman was touting Tony Blair for president. We’re throwing our support to José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero.
Viva España!