Cross Cultural Dating and Relationships

Debating the differences between men and women has been around since the bible it seems. A quick search on Amazon will produce a list of books explaining what makes the sexes different and why. But what happens when there's not just a difference in gender but also in culture? Is it easier, harder to date and maintain a relationship?

Now, I must confess I'm no expert on women. Even during my swinging single days I wasn't much of a Casanova and I'm far from the idyllic husband, so I'll avoid any dating and relationship advice. But I was single long enough in Spain to notice some differences when it came to the European and Spanish women compared to their counterparts in the states.

First, however, a little disclaimer. Life in Los Angeles is not an accurate representation of the U.S as a whole. The city is infamous for being a particularly soulless, superficial and harsh place thanks to the allure of Hollywood. Every day beautiful people arrive from all over the world with one goal in mind: to be rich and famous, and as a result, the town is full of narcissistic personality types with pretty faces. Add in the culture of sex, drugs, rock 'n roll, and the porn industry in the San Fernando Valley, and I think you get the picture of what it'd be like to be single there - fun for a bit, but emotionally damaging after a while.

Maybe coming from L.A. is why, what surprised me most at first, wasn't a defining trait or physical characteristic, but how few women had plastic surgery in Barcelona. Sure, there was the occasional girl with a nose job in a bar and there was Belen Esteban and her like on telebasura, but nothing like what I'd seen walking around Venice beach or lining up outside a club on Sunset Boulevard. There seemed to be a more natural beauty to European women and an approachability if that makes sense.

But the differences were more than skin deep. Rarely did the initial banter revolve around work or open with the question, "What do you do?" The topics of conversation tended instead to be about travels, musical tastes, life in Barcelona, languages. Then again, the whole concept of work is much different in Spain, I found. Perhaps it's the high unemployment that sees kids living with their parents until the thirties, but in general having a job and your own room is good enough; you don't also have to do something and live somewhere that impresses people.

Of course, the idea of dating is a particularly American thing to do, I've been told, which might explain another aspect of life in Barcelona that surprised me my first year. Many locals my age were with their high school or college sweetheart, some with kids. I hadn't known anyone in L.A. like that. It was more Hollywood than Hollywood, where most my friends and I had the philosophy not until we were at least thirty would we even think of settling down. But, luckily for me not all Spanish women married their first love, and after a series of random events I met my future wife at the ripe old age of twenty-nine.

Relationships are, I think, incredibly complex things, which like dark matter, I only vaguely understand.  I will say, though, being with a person from a foreign country definitely adds an element of unpredictability to them. First, there's the question of which language to communicate in. When we met I spoke no Spanish while she spoke English like an Essex girl. We lived in Spain, so the decision was Spanish. My wife, being the native, had the upper hand as far as command and linguistic dexterity. I, however, always had the ready excuse of, "I didn't understand," which was used frequently, especially during the first months.  This required a patience at which I still marvel.

But even when we reached somewhat equality with the language, the way it's spoken can bring about all types of problems. My wife, like many Spaniards I've found, likes to explain everything, at times to the minutest detail, before beginning. I, on the other hand, tend to subscribe to the American belief of keeping it brief, answering questions as they pop up but first let's get started.  This can still sometimes be a source of consternation, but that isn't always the case. At first her Spanish directness offended my polite sensibilities, but now she's the one reminding me to say please and thank you.

Then there's the question of her fiery Latin temper and my disposition mellowed by too much sun and Hollywood in my twenties. So like any couple, we squabble from time to time. How much is due to personality differences and how much is cultural, I don't know. I have, however, discovered a side benefit to being admonished in a language that isn't mine: the intended impact of the words is dulled by the time my brain translates them and registers an emotional response, while at the same time, it's also a great way to learn some Spanish expressions like me cago en la leche.

Barcelona Artist - Agustí Puig

The LA Times ran a glowing article on Barcelona recently where it discussed its storied artistic history and mentioned some contemporary artitists who are maintaining this rich tradition. One such man is Agustí Puig whose work was the inspiration for Penelope Cruz's character in "Vicki Christina Barcelona" and was featured in the movie.

A painter, sculpture and photographer, Puig's stated idol is one of Barcelona's most famous adoptive sons, Pablo Picasso, who came here from Malaga as a teenager and his influence can be seen in the energy of Puig's work. Unfortunately, there aren't any current exhibitions of his in Barcelona with closest one being held at Messum's gallery in London.  So to give you an idea of his style, here are a few pieces of his:

La Chirigota

The next fiesta I believe is Carnaval sometime this month. Sitges is the popular spot locally, but within the peninsula, the celebration in Cádiz has the reputation as the most colorful and the local gaditanos take great pride in this.  Driven by music, singing, and humor it's based around La Chirigota, a group of singing men in costume. It's definitely well-worth a visit if you have the time. Staying in Cádiz , Cádiz, will be next to impossible, but there are the surrounding cities like Puerto Santa Maria and Jerez. Sevilla is also just two hours away by train. Below is an example. Funny people.

 

Three Cheers For The Elderly!

As some of the recent comments on "the drinking and smoking..." post show, one of the more pleasant surprises newcomers to Spain have is how active the elderly population is here. You can see them shuffling around, pushing their carritos from fruit stand to supermarket as they do their own shopping. On sunny days they gather on benches under trees with their friends, their lap dogs sitting close by and chat, punctuating their sentences with laughs. During the evening, you'll find them at the local bar sitting around a table talking loudly and animated about their family and friends while stroking the fur on their pet Yorkshire terrier that sits on their lap. In fact, if you were to judge a country solely on the how active the people are in relationship to their age, Spain would be near the top I imagine. So with that in mind here are some of my five favorite characteristics of la tercera edad.

1. They never sweat. It can be the middle of August. The sun is blazing and the humidity sticks to the skin, yet there they are, dressed in skirts and blouses, stockings and shoes, their madeup faces free of one bead of sweat as they cool themselves by waving a fan just under the chin.

2.  They dress with dignity.  Compared to the rest of Spain, I think Barcelona is a bit more on the casual side fashion-wise but you'll never find an elderly person here going out in sweats. From their dyed hair to the wrinkle free clothes they wear, everything is immaculate and well-put together with an understated class.

3. They provide a glimpse into Spain's past. This holds true for most senior citizens I find no matter where they live (not for Spain, but the country they're from), but there's nothing more interesting that sitting down and having a chat with an elderly neighbor. They'll be more than happy to share for a few moments company and it's amazing what you'll discover. 

4. They're out and about. A friend of mine's father likes getting up at the crack of dawn and going out to get each of the free newspapers before they're gone so he'll have something to read. Every week day this is his ritual while at five o´clock rain or shine I know I'll see the elderly couple from across the hall walking the neighborhood's streets arm-in-arm for their daily paseito. Like I said, they just seem more active.

5. They're friendlier. Whenever I go shopping at the market, I can usually count on one senior citizen offering me suggestions as to the best cut of meat or a new cheese to try. Nowadays, it often corresponds with what I planned on buying anyway, but it's always nice to hear some friendly advice. And I remember when I first came here and didn't speak any Spanish getting a real hoot from the old guy trying to explain what the shop keeper said to me by shouting different words but using the same language and speed as if the problem was my hearing. It was all very surreal.

La Reina del Pueblo

The woman you see above is Belén Esteban, otherwise known as the Queen of the Street and a common fixture on day time television here. Famous for being taped telling her young daughter, Andreita, cómete el pollo, coño! (Andrea, eat the chicken, cunt), she's also known to suffer from every seeming disorder from cocaine addiction to anorexia to diabetes.

She first rose to fame as the girlfriend of a bullfighter who became the father of her daughter before rumors of infidelity and tensions with his family saw the end of their relationship. In her response to the accusations, she took to the daytime airwaves where she bore her soul, her raw honesty, humor and Latin flare punctuated with colorful language winning her numerous supporters. Today, I'd ranked her just behind La Duquesa del Alba as the second most discussed celebrity on Spanish television.  The big news this week is her umpteenth operation changing her into the woman on the left from the woman on the right. When interviewed about this new look, she informed the television personality that she spends the whole time admiring it in the mirror but not so much she hasn't found the time to make love with her new boyfriend.

You can check out her official website here. The best way I can describe it is as Cutre Hollywood.

Spanish Rock and Other Musica Española

When people think of music and Spain, the first word that comes to mind is probably flamenco. And while it's the most well-known of the traditional music from here, it's my least favorite. I'd rather listen to the more up-beat Sevillana, Rumba or Chirigota.  But beyond these centuries old musical styles, Spain has also produced some fine modern music that's well-worth a listen and some groups that are a good addition to your CD collection this holiday season.

Los Planetas are the Godfathers of the Spanish independent music scene, with big sweeping, guitar driven songs and heartfelt sung choruses, showing rainy Manchester can influence sunny Spain.

Ojos de Brujo hail from Barcelona and bring an updated, groovy mix to traditional sounds of Iberia, making it perfect for a party when there's a lull in the conversation.

Chambao from sunny Andalucia follow the fusion formula but with a breezy feel that evokes a warn summer day at the chiringuito in January.

Manu Chao is a Spaniard whose parents fled to France after the Civil War. He now calls Barcelona home where he continues to make great music, mixing forms and languages to infectious beats.

Estopa are two local kids from the suburbs of Barcelona who make feet tapping Rumba Catalan that's sure to get the locals singing along when it comes on in a bar.

My favorite Spanish song ever is Queco's el Borracho that follows the exploits of a man who has had one too many as he searches for the ingredients for a smoke (tobacco, paper and a lighter) and ends up meeting St. Peter and asking where's the bar.



There are, I'm sure more, so if any one has any recommendations, leave a comment.

A Brief History of Catalunya

I have to admit: Before I moved to Spain, I had no idea what a Catalan was, or that there was such a place called Catalunya.  I thought Barcelona was in Spain, and Spain was a country of - Well, I'm American - I didn't know what it was made up of, but I thought everyone who lived here was Español, and I never imagined it not being a unified nation.  How wrong was I.  I'd be interested in hearing if it's the same in Bilbao, Sevilla and Madrid, but at least living in Barcelona, I quickly learned that Catalunya was not Spain, but in fact it's own country, with its own language and culture, and that a small percentage here wouldn't mind returning to their independent status of yesteryear, because quiet frankly, many of the population don't care for the Spanish or Castellanos and the decisions made in Madrid.

Ignorant about its history and eager to learn more about my adopted land, I discovered through Wikipedia and conversations with my widowed neighbor Teresa that Catalunya was part of the Crown of Aragon, and it gained it's formal independence from France in 1258 with the Treaty of Corbeil; thus beginning the reign of Jaume (James) 1 and the expansion of the Kingdom of Aragon to include Valencia, Corsica and Sicily, and the promotion of Catalan language and culture throughout the territories.  A series of kings and queens followed, stemming from marriages among European princes and princesses, and then King Martin 1 died in 1410 with no heirs, resulting in King Fernando I of Castillo receiving the crown after the Compromise of Caspe.  Nearly sixty years later, the great Spanish empire was born after the marriage of Fernando II of Aragon and Isabel I of Castillo in 1469.

The presence of Castilian troops on Barcelona's streets two-hundred years later saw the Revolt of the Reapers in 1640.  Local peasants (tired of housing the Spanish soldiers who fought against France during the Thirty Years War, and seeing their resources used for a war waged from Madrid) rebelled on Corpus Christi Day, chanting: "Long live the faith of Christ!", "Long live the king of Spain, our lord", "Long live the land, death to bad government."  This led to the leader of the Generalitat Pau Claris declaring a Catalan Republic, and ended when his death created a power vacuum, resulting in the Treaty of the Pyrenees in 1659 and the loss of Northern Catalunya to France, with Southern Catalunya again under Spanish rule.

The death of Charles II of Spain in 1700 and the lack of a heir began the Spanish War of Succession with two European camps claiming the crown: The French Bourbons and the Austrian Hapsburgs.  Sensing a chance for greater freedom from the centralized government of Madrid, the Catalans backed the Austrian contender for the throne; only to lose their special status as autonomous territories following the Fall of Barcelona on September 11 1714.  Catalunya was once again a province of the Spanish Kingdom with Madrid as its capital; this time ruled by Philip V, grandson of Lois XIV of France. 

The next two-hundred years witnessed Catalunya's rise as a major economic center of Spain and an industrial hub with the freedom to speak their language and celebrate their traditions dependent on the whims of whichever king sat on the throne in Madrid; and so it continued as the Great Spanish Empire slowly fell apart through a series of wars that resulted in loss of most of its territories, a period of Napoleonic rule, the return of the Bourbon king, and finally in the Second Spanish Republic that granted autonomy to Catalunya, along with the Basque Country and Galicia at the start of the twentieth century. 

In 1931, Spain once again found itself a proxy for greater European powers with the Nationalist Forces of General Franco backed by the Germans and Italians and the mishmash of opposition forces consisting of Anarchists, Communists, and Republicans supported by Russia and Mexico; with Britain, France and the United States sitting it out.  A three year bitter and brutal civil war ensued with brother killing brother, Catalan slaughtering Catalan, and son turning on father; and by the end, Barcelona found itself once again subjugated to the rule of Madrid with their language banned from all public institutions and mass media.  It was during this time and based on a history of local princes controlled by European kings that Catalan Nationalism came to be with some of its leaders tortured under the dictatorship.

Today, nearly thirty-five years after the death of Franco, Catalunya is one of the 17 autonomous regions that comprise Spain, with its language taught in all schools and used throughout the local government and in many businesses.  Yet, still the battles of the previous five hundred years are being fought; although, not through guns, but in political debates about how much control should be ceded to Madrid and in the constant promotion of the Catalan language at the expense of all others.

Spanish Funerals

I had my first Spanish funeral this week.  It wasn't anyone close.  I had actually never met the woman who passed away from old age.  My attendance necessitated by my relationship with the deceased's niece, I went to see how the Spanish approach death.  Macabre, I know.  But I've, unfortunately, attended my fair share of funerals, and watching how people mourn now intrigues me.

The best funeral, if there is such a thing, was my grandfather's.  He said: "Cremate me and throw a party," which we did at my aunt's.  Relatives, both long-lost and close-to-home, came to celebrate his life and offer support to my grandmother.  It must be the Irish blood because in my family we like to drink and tell stories about the dead.  That was the only one like that - the others usually began with a few days of waiting for people to gather for the viewing; followed by a religious service, a few words of admiration from certain relatives about the deceased, the burial, and then a meeting at someone's house after to drink and remember.  When I tell this to my Spanish friends and relatives they look at me aghast and disgusted.

Here: the deceased is to be in the ground within three days of passing.  To honor their memory, a solomn meeting is held the day before the funeral.  Everyone clad in black, there are no stories, only weeping, and the loss of the person is told by the number of tears streaming down the cheeks.  The next day a mass takes place with a few verses read by a priest as the body is laid to rest inside the stone cemetery walls located far away from the city, and then every one returns to their seperate homes.  For the Spanish, there is nothing to celebrate, only saddness, and its best to get it over and done with.

Spanish Irony

In Spanish there's irónico, which doesn't mean ironic in English, but more like sarcastic, even if the dictionary tells you otherwise. The Spanish have no sense of irony as we think of it. How can I say this so confidently? How else can you explain putting the Arc de Triomf at the end of Carrer Trafalgar?


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