Showing posts with label Valenciano. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valenciano. Show all posts

June 15, 2012

Guest Post: "Horchata de Chufa" (a.k.a. "Orxata de Xufa") – Valencia’s Liquid Gold!

There are few things more Valencian than horchata. Which was why at some point I had intended to blog about it. That is, until I met Neima Briggs, a fellow Austinite (i.e. from Austin, Texas) and recent Fulbright fellow to Valencia, but most important, perhaps the world's biggest chufa fan. Here is a guy who practically bleeds horchata. I was so impressed with his personal passion for the topic that I invited him to write an entry on it himself. Neima first came to Spain (to San Sebastian-Donostia in the Basque Country) back in 2009. But he returned to the horchata heartland, Valencia, in 2011-2012 on a Fulbright Research Grant to study —no, not horchata— antibiotic resistance development in bacteria residing in the gastrointestinal tract of humans, and how that resistance transfers between mother and infant. But he still found time while he was here to explore all aspects of Valencia's most famous refreshment. Below he provides you with a window into the long history and local love of the chufa, and even his own recipe! Following his year here, he will return to the United States to begin his studies on an MD/PhD at the University of Texas School of Medicine at Houston.

Two large glasses of horchata without sugar (left) and
horchata granizada (right), which has a frozen slushy
consistency. The dessert shown is a tart made with a
cream from tigernuts.
From corner vendors to centuries old horchatería’s, it’s hard to walk anywhere in Valencia on a warm summer’s day and not be tempted to indulge in the cold, sweet horchata de chufa ("orxata de xufa" in Valenciano).

It is unknown precisely when Valencianos first started squeezing the milk from the tigernut ("chufa"), but written records have accounts of the drink existing as early as the end of the first millennia during the Muslim occupation of Spain. The name orxata, is believed to derive from the Valenciano word ordiata, ordi meaning barley in Latin. However, ask a local vendor at an horchatería in Valencia and chances are they will tell you the local folk story of its origin.  It is said that when James I of Aragon (a.k.a. Jaume I) came to the Kingdom of Valencia to help solidify relations before the impending Muslim invasion, he was approached in Alboraya (a small town on the outskirts of the modern Valencia capital city) by a small girl carrying the drink. After sipping the drink, he told the child, "Açò és or, xata!" ("That's gold, darling!"). Whether or not this is the true etymology of the word, for locals the drink is as precious as gold.

Shown here is the tigernut plant
(photo from tigernut.com),
a small tuber plant with the tigernut
itself growing in the ground. Harvested
between April and September
every
year, fields and fields of it can be seen
on the northern outskirts of Valencia.
On average 10mm long, tigernuts are small tubers that make great snacks, but are predominately grown to make horchata. My Valencian coworkers, themselves health scientist and doctors, have told me on numerous occasions about the health benefits of the tigernuts. High in minerals such as Phosphorous, Potassium and Vitamins E and C, tigernuts are currently under study for health benefits with improving blood circulation and prevention of heart attacks. The high fiber content combined with the highly soluble glucose content have many Valencian doctors recommending the drink to help reduce the risk of colon cancer and to help with normal day digestion. [Editorial note: If you are curious to read more about the Valencia "chufa" denomination of origen standards, click here.]

A name familiar throughout most of Latin American, up into the southern United States, horchata exists in many forms. Known as horchata de arroz (white rice) to Americans and Mexicans, although similarly prepared, the milk extraction from rice creates its own distinct flavor. The source of the milk varies greatly worldwide, ranging from ground almonds, sesame seeds, rice, barley, or tigernuts. To make local varieties even more distinctive, spices and flavors are commonly added, including an 18 herb infusion in Ecuador, cocoa and nutmeg in El Salvador and jicaro seeds and spices in Nicaragua and Honduras.


Basket of cleaned tigernuts made available for consumption for patrons at Horchatería Daniel.
Sold in small packs for individual consumption or in larger bags for making horchata.


Given the regional craze for all things chufa, there is naturally
a local organic beer brewed from the tigernut, too.

Exterior photo of Horchatería Daniel from Hola Valencia
You can find horchaterías (sit-downs dedicated to making fresh horchata) all over Valencia. The most famous among the locals is Horchatería Daniel, located in the heart and birthplace of horchata, Alboraya on aptly named Avinguda de l’Orxata (right next to the Machado metro exit on the red Line 3). [Editorial note: the people of Alboraya even jokingly call each other "chuferos".] Many Valencian city locals will flock with the family to this small town north of the city on a lazy Sunday afternoon to drink various concoctions Horchatería Daniel makes using horchata – including with coffee, without sugar for diabetics and non-sweet lovers, and different flavors of ice cream - and desserts made of chocolate and sometimes the tigernut, too! A traditional snack to have with the ice-cold horchata is fartons, a light pastry with a light glazing on top or powder sugar. (Don’t be surprised to see everyone around dunking their fartons into the horchata!) While you’re out in Alboraya be sure to walk along Avinguda de l’Orxata to the Museum of Horchata


Two traditional glasses of horchata with fartons (pastries in between the horchata) and
churros (fried bread with sugar on top), the latter of which is usually eaten with thick melted chocolate.
A delicious and filling Valencian treat at Horchatería de Santa Catalina!


Horchatería de Santa Catalina: Beautiful and typically Valencian hand-painted tiles encompass
horchata drinkers as they enjoy it inside one of Valencia's favorite establishments.


Its iconic exterior façade.
Two other equally worthy establishments where you can also try horchata are right in the cultural heart of Valencia in the Plaza de la Reina. The first, Horchatería de Santa Catalina is an establishment with over two hundred years of horchata-making tradition and its history encompasses you, literally. With ornate carvings in the ceilings on the second floor and beautiful hand-painted tile work in the entrance and walls, the building is as much of a treat as their incredible horchata. Although the choices are limited compared to Horchatería Daniel, the horchata and fartons are nothing short of perfection on a Valencian hot summer day. Right across the walkway is Horchatería El Siglo, another horchatería with two hundred years of tradition, but smaller in size. Worth a visit for the horchata alone, Horchatería El Siglo also has nice outdoor seating, perfect for a sunny day.


The Falla de Santa Catalina even included a miniature rendition
of the Horchatería El Siglo in its 2012 falla.


So now that you are addicted to Valencia’s liquid gold, you'll want to know how you can get more when you go home. Luckily, bottled horchata is sold all around Spain in grocery stores. Before you leave Valencia, you might also consider the fact that many horchaterías (and at the airport) sell a condensed horchata, so at home you can turn a one liter bottle into five liters worth of delicious enjoyment. Do you think bottled horchata is just not the same as that overwhelmingly delicious fresh-made hortchata? For those returning to the United States or anywhere in Europe, there is a Spanish food distributor LaTienda.com where you can order food to fill all your Spanish cravings (no need to stuff your suitcase with tigernuts!). They sell a bottled brand of horchataChufi.


Neima Briggs, today's guest author, showing his love of Valencia
at Sevilla's Plaza de España


That said, I have found making the horchata myself fun and without question well worth the effort. At $18 a bag, you can treat yourself to four liters of horchata spread out over the course of months. Although once made the horchata will go bad after a week, the nuts stay good for two years when placed in a well-ventilated dark space (best in a dry portion of the refrigerator). The recipe is quite simple and, building from years of practice, I have include my recipe below for those adventurous enough to try it. If you are interested, click the link below and keep reading...

February 24, 2012

Music: "D'un temps, d'un pais" by Raimon... La Nova Cançó, music for a cultural revolution

"Los libros son nuestras armas" (Books are our weapons).
Brilliant counter march on Tuesday, February 21st,
following Lluís Vives incident on Monday
Here I've been posting about how wonderful Valencia is, and meanwhile things have gotten ugly here in local politics. There has been an escalation in confrontations between a group of student protestors, mostly from Lluís Vivesa secondary school located in Valencia's center, and horribly incompetent riot police. The high school students have joined their teachers in protesting the "recortes" (budget cuts) in public education. Here in Valencia this has been a particularly bitter affair, given that the PP regional government has repeatedly implicated itself in a number of corruption scandals involving the embezzlement of public funds or the extravagant use of public money on frivolous and elite spectacle events instead of public infrastructure and services. This past Monday things turned violent. The police manhandled and then beat some of the students during a protest, and apparently also in the process beat teachers, parents, and onlookers nearby. Shedding light on how out of touch the police are, video of the police chief shows him talking about the students as "el enemigo" (the enemy). Everyone is quite naturally worked up about it, and some have taken to sensationally likening this "Valencian Spring" to the Arab Spring. (To follow these "Primavera Valenciana" events more closely, go to this story-feed page.)



I remind you that, "La corrupcion, como la paella en ningun sitio, se hace como en Valencia."
(
"Corruption, like paella, in no place do they make it like in Valencia.")

A whole series of suspicious and disturbing things have surrounded all these events. For example, on Monday evening, if one were to tune in to one's Catalan-language news, one would have seen two _very_ different stories on Canal Nou, the Valencian-run TV station, versus on TV3, the Catalonia-run channel, about the events at Lluís Vives. TV3 showed the images of the police beating teenagers in clear disproportion to the protesters' actions. Canal Nou, in what was clear ideological bias in favor of the local government, showed no video of the violence, just the protest, and then mostly showed video of various government officials talking about the incident with their predictable spin of "protesters shouldn't recur to violence". This form of media distortion on Canal Nou is no real surprise. The channel has been manipulated by the PP government for years. But it is sad that it would carry to the extent of attacking an idealistic and active youth in the self-interest of protecting a jaded and decaying political class. 


You can see a slideshow of powerful images of the police attacks on protesters at Public.es

Yet, let's not disparage the actual workers at Canal Nou, who Tuesday held their own protest about the station's media manipulation of Monday events, complaining that the Canal Nou's directors changed the story: "Se ha criminalizado a los jóvenes presentando a los policías como víctimas" (It has [falsely] criminalized the youth [while] presenting the police as victims). All of this stinks of the usual Valencian PP paranoia and persecution complex reaction to any legitimate criticism and popular complaint. (While I love most everything about Valencia, I find the politics here —PP and PSOE alike— to be one of the city's few shortcomings.) One wonders what economic miracles the PP government here could produce were they to invest this energy they waste on pageantry and the _show_ of success on the actual foundations of success in a modern society: education. (If only the PP would apply some of its neoliberal reforms to the political class, and make it easier to fire incompetent political leaders.) Kudos to the Canal Nou employees, as it now (as of Wednesday) appears that that Channel is taking the protests seriously. Score one for 'speaking truth to power'.


Canal Nou's webpage on Wednesday, February 22nd, the day after the station's workers
protested the directors' manipulation of the news coverage of the Lluís Vives students

It wasn't just students. Parents and teachers, enraged at the
police's treatment of students, also got involved
As it turns out, I first learned of the Monday protest because one of my co-workers had a teenage daughter who was involved in the protest and whose leg was badly scraped Monday as she was dragged on the street by some of the police. Needless to say, she was worried about her daughter, but also furious at the police and eager to see all of this bring about some kind of change in the local Valencian government's handling of public protest and complains about the "recortes". In our brief conversation about it, she and I were talking about the need for student protestors to keep positive, despite this infuriating turn of events. Keep positive as both a tactic, to shame the government, and also as a legitimate source of their youthful strength and social authority, since they are the future of the country and any government would be foolish to ignore them or dismiss them (as the current government seems to currently be doing). 

For a wonderfully playful, if also a bit depressing video montage and critique of this Valencia problem, 
I highly recommend you watch this music video, which uses a song written a while ago by Jaume Sisa, 
"Qualsevol nit pot sortir el sol" (transl. from Catalan: Any night the sun might come out), and foregrounds 
images of the many ways that Valencia's government squandered its wealth on special events 
rather than on basic public institutions. (It certainly provides a contrasting perspective on many of the
spectacular tourist highlights I've been showing of Valencia's capital.)

Forgive me for what may seem like a total change of subject, but as it happens I've been listening a lot recently to a Catalan-language song which I think really nicely encapsulates these issues of reform, hope, but also social critique. "D'un temps" by Raimon was, in its day, music for a cultural revolution, and I think it's worth taking a look at it here both for its importance to Catalan-language culture, as an example of La Nova Cançó, and as a timeless message for advocating change and reform without falling into bitterness about the seemingly intractable nature of political corruption and the indifference of power to real justice. (Without, in other words, ceding the debate to the powers that be, who would want us to get frustrated and give up our complaints.) 


Here I've embedded a copy of the song for you to listen to, and below you will find the lyrics:



I had been listening to some songs by Raimon, Ramon Pelegro Sanchis, and others of La Nova Cançó movement, as part of my usual language-acquisition trick: listen to music in a language, in this case Catalan, as a way to get a twofer, new language phrases _and_ cultural insight. This song in particular really got me. Raimon wrote "D'un temps, d'un pais" way back in 1964, and I like if for how it is at one and the same time incredibly critical but also incredibly empowering and forward-looking. It jibes with a line I read from Reinhold Niebuhr many years ago, that we must have "hope without optimism." In other words, we should not be surprised if the future doesn't meet our high expectations, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't hold those expectations; because in being fervent in our hope that the future _could_ be better, we ourselves will take actions to make it so.

Raimon is a great starting place for learning about Catalan-language music and culture. (I can't help but note that he is Valencian, since he's from Xátiva. Yes, (many) Valencians speak Catalan, too.I think of him as a kind of Valencian equivalent of Bob Dylan, though admittedly not quite so prolific. Like Dylan, Raimon was part of a cultural movement in the 1960s which used folk music to address political concerns. Many of his songs therefore have a transcendent style and message. Maybe the parallels end there. While Dylan was "the original vagabond," "like a rolling stone," and a rebel's rebel, it wasn't like his singing in English was illegal or anything. Raimon's very act of singing his music in Catalan was. Speaking Catalan in public was illegal during the Franco dictatorship, and it took some real class and "collons" for him to do it. He faced legal sanctions and was blocked from certain events by the Regime, again, just for singing in the Catalan language.


The sixties in Spain. Catalan language as a cultural heritage worth fighting (peacefully) for.


Raimon's experience was characteristic of the movement la Nova Cançó, the name for the resurgence in Catalan-language in music during this period. He rocketed to fame and is probably most famous for his ballad, "Al vent" (1962), popular in the early 1960s and marking him as a serious song writer. He got a boost career-wise by collaborating with Els Setze Jutges, an important group for the movement whose members read like a who's who of important Catalan singers. Some prominent members are still famous today, especially Lluís Llach, whose song "L'estaca" (1968) is another of these iconic classics of the period, and Joan Manuel Serrat. (The name Els Setze Jutges comes from a Catalan tongue-twister ("trebalengua"): "Setze jutges d'un jutjat mengen fetge d'un penjat." Much of their music was playful, and used symbolism and humor to skirt around the Franco censors.) In the 1970s, during "la transición," Raimon and other Catalan musicians' music resurged in popularity, becoming a kind of soundtrack for the new Spain and its hopes for an open and diverse society. (When my wife first heard me play this music, she said: "That's what my parents used to listen to!") For a longer, more detailed discussion of the movement, its critics and legacy, read this web entry in Spanish. Among a future generation of Nova Cançó figures, you can find none other than Jaume Sisa, author of the song featured in the video at the beginning, and like Raimon a "cantautor" (a musician who writes his own songs, usually with some protest or critique content).


All of this is just some historical context for understanding the import of Raimon's lyrics in "D'un temps". He was writing at a time Spain when was growing, economically flourishing really, and yet paradoxically was still a political dictatorship. In other words, the seeds for social and cultural reform were taking root in the streets even while political institutions sought to constrain and repress many ideas, groups, "threats". Take a look at the lyrics, and you'll see how he rises above the frustration to put forward the argument that we already own the moment and have control over the future.

------------------------------------------------------
D'un temps, d'un pais (1964)

D'un temps                                   Of a time
que serà el nostre,                        that will be ours,
d'un país que mai no hem fet,        of a country that has never been made,
cante les esperances                    I sing about the hopes
i plore la poca fe.                          and I cry for the little faith.

No creguem en les pistoles:           We don't believe in guns:

per a la vida s'ha fet l'home            it is life which defines man
i no per a la mort s'ha fet.              and not death that has made him.

No creguem en la misèria,             We don't believe in the misery,
la misèria necessària, diuen,          the necessary misery, they say,
de tanta gent…                             of so many people...

D'un temps                                   Of a time
que ja és un poc nostre,                that is already a bit our own,
d'un país que ja anem fent,            of a country that is already being made,
cante les esperances                     I sing about the hopes
i plore la poca fe.                           and I cry for the little faith.

Lluny som de records inútils          Let's leave behind useless memories
i de velles passions,                     and old passions,
no anirem al darrere                      we will not march behind
d'antics tambors…                        the ancient (war) drums…

D'un temps                                   Of a time
que ja és un poc nostre,                that is already a bit our own,
d'un país que ja anem fent,            of a country that is already being made
cante les esperances                     I sing about the hopes
i plore la poca fe.                           and I cry for the little faith.

D'un temps                                   Of a time
que ja és un poc nostre,                that is already a bit our own,
d'un país que ja anem fent.            of a country that is already being made.

------------------------------------------------------

Having thought about these lyrics a lot, what I'm most struck by is the hopeful progression they offer. While in the first stanza he talks of "un país que mai no hem fet", very quickly he is already talking about "un país que ja anem fent" – from a country that has never been made, to one that is already being made. Or a shift from "un temps que serà el nostre" to "un temps que ja és un poc nostre" – from time that _will_ be ours, to one that already is a bit ours. And there's the subtle but poignant rejection of what "they say" about "necessary misery". Again, this in 1964, a decade before the end of the Franco Regime, and in a banned language!

Another topic which didn't make the cut this week: the "Golpe de estado de 
1981" or "23-F". Thursday marked the 31st anniversary of a famous failed military coup,
when Spain's young democracy was tested and many feared, even if only for a few hours,
that the country would fall back into a dictatorship. I think expats, in their armchair
commentary over the Garzón case don't appreciate how recent democracy is in Spain. The
still oh-so-controversial Amnesty Law of 1977 was only four years old when all of Spain
watched this coup unfold onscreen and wondered whether that was the end of the
experiment. In retrospect, with a firmer, healthier democracy, some are now
wondering whether the Franco regime abusers got off too easy in "la transición".

I've noticed a lot of "rencor" (bitter resentment or rancor) recently about the turn to the right and "no holds bar" politics in Spain... Camps miraculously acquitted. Garzón sentenced. (This post was originally inspired by all the buzz here and abroad on the recent verdict in the Garzón case. I won't dissimulate. I'm incredibly disappointed in the outcome. In systems of justice, sentences send messages. And it is the _wrong_ message to send that Baltasar Garzón, a judge, is the first and, I believe, so far _only_ person to be convicted for the Caso Gürtel.And now the so-called "Valencia Spring" in my hometown. It's enough to break a Left-leaning politico's heart. Surrounding all of these happenings is a lot of, "See, I told you the Spanish are intractably corrupt" in the expat blogosphere, or "Of course the political class doesn't care about the public" among the locals. Now I can understand this sentiment as a knee-jerk reaction from the angry and disenfranchised. But I actually think this sentiment, though human and understandable, is not the right way to direct anger and disappointment over injustice. Somehow we reelected this corrupt Valencia government, and it is hard not feel frustrated with how a political class so clearly corrupt and out of touch with the economic needs of its electorate is not fired for its incompetence. But I try not to let it get to me, and to instead think of the long road (not just the next election cycle). What these kids at Lluís Vives are showing people is that it is not about how we feel now, it is about what we do now for our futures.

Back in 1981, the King Juan Carlos interceded on behalf of the public, and helped diffuse the
coup d'etat by going on television and asking that the military return control to the Congress.
This irony, that it was the king who helped save Spain's democracy, is why many, including
even me, are so loyal to the royal family even though it's criticized as an anachronistic institution


I take this as the deeper wisdom of Raimon's song. It is about not ceding _any_ ground, not even the terms of the debate by succumbing to bitterness, cynicism, or defeatism. I'm hopeful that as people take to the streets to protest the injustices of this economic crisis —the pigheaded, untested and probably foolish ideology of "austerity"— we are all able to hold on to that positive spirit. (Consider this an extension of my earlier soapbox rant manifesto to willfully ignore the economic crisis negativity.) To not let the negativity of the powers that be —who keep telling us about "la misèria necessària", necessary cuts and economic misery— convince us that our future is not defined by us. Spain continues to be a country that is being made, and I'm hopeful that its future will be brighter than its past.

January 23, 2012

Paquito El Xocolatero: Or how to compile a soundtrack for Fallas

Or maybe I should subtitle this "Pasodoble, the other famous style of Spanish music". Contrary to what many a ignorant naive guiri may think, flamenco is not the only native music style in Spain. Pasodoble, the music beat and the dance step, is based on the music played during a bullfighter's entrance into a bullfight ("el paseo") or played during the passes ("faena") just before the kill. Can you get more Spanish than that? Because of its "duple meter" (two-beat) march-like rhythm, many popular marching songs for Fallas are pasodobles.


And my personal favorite Valencian pasodoble classic is "Paquito el Xocolatero" (the "x" in Catalan is pronounced like "ch" here). The song was composed in the 1930s, to be played for the Moros y Cristianos festival in Alcoy, but over the years it has become popular to play for parades all throughout Spain, and is one of several commonly played songs during the Valencia Fallas festivities. 

I've never been, but I hear Moros y Cristianos, the setting for Paquito El Xocolatero,
is spectacular. And don't be fooled by the Christians conquering Moors theme.
Apparently, according to my mother-in-law who's from a town nearby, everyone
usually wants to be a Moor because they dress so much cooler.

It was made even more famous when Els Pavesos covered it. Els Pavesos was a group formed by Joan Monleón and others from the Falla no. 50 Corretgeria - Bany dels Pavesos in the early 1970s. Els Pavesos created popular albums based on traditional songs played during Fallas. Joan Monleón, who must have been quite a colorful character, became a fixture on local TV with his own show.

Joan Monleón as seen with his famous "paella rusa" on his TV show,
which he would spin much like a "ruleta rusa" (Russian roulette).
A Valencian political blogger has taken up Monleón's paella rusa
for the title of his quite successful blog.

When Monleón passed away in 2010, Valencians left a variety of homenajes to him,
including him in a Falla (on the left) and drawing a street mural (on the right). 

For your entertainment, I embed a version of "Paquito el Xocolatero" as sung by Els Pavesos, with the lyrics below:



---------------------------------------------------------
                            Paquito "El Xocolatero":               

Paquito "El Xocolatero"                 Paquito the "Chocolate-maker"
és un home molt formal                 is a very serious man
quan arriba la Festa                       who, when the festival starts,
va sempre molt colocat.                 always gets really high.*

Es posa el vestit de Festa             He dresses up in the festival outfit
el puro, café-licor                          [with] the cigar, [and] "café-licor" liquor [in hand],**
i se'n va per la filà                         and heads to the "filà" marching line***
per oblidar-se de tot.                      in order to forget about all else.

(tornada)                                      (chorus)

Pels carrers va desfilant                Through the streets they go marching
entre plomes i colors                     among the plumes/feathers and colors
el poble se'n va entregant              and the town gets [even more] motivated
a la gràcia d'aquest home              because of the charming enthusiasm of this man
que sap com ningú ballar.              who knows how to dance like no one else.
Pels carrers va desfilant.               Through the streets they go marching.

I quan acaba la Festa                    And when the party ends
L'endemà s'en va a la fàbrica         the next day he'll go back to the factory
i es posa a treballar                       and he'll dress for work.
Cantueso i Herbero                       [Drinking] "Cantueso" and "Herbero"****
per a poder-ho aguantar                so as to be able to endure it.
fins que torne nostra Festa            Until the return of our Festival
tan Valenciana, tan popular.          so Valencian, so popular [of the people].

(bis)                                             (encore)

Pels carrers va desfilant                Through the streets they go marching
entre plomes i colors                     among the plumes and colors
el poble se'n va entregant              and the town goes surrendering
a la gràcia d'aquest home              in thanks to this man
que sap com ningú ballar.              who knows how to dance like no one else.
En la Festa Valenciana                 In the Valencian festival
tan Valenciana, tan popular.          so Valencian, so popular.


     *Trans. note: high on life, not necessarily in the sense of drunk or high on drugs
     **A classic type of liquor from Alcoy
     ***A filà is the marching group and formation of people in the Moros y Cristianos festival of Alcoy
     ****Two types of liquor made from distilling flowers with herbs (and with grain alcohol), both made in Alicante;      Herbero, for example, is made from aromatic plants that grow in the Sierra de Mariola region right next to Alcoy
---------------------------------------------------------

You can see the charm of this song for falleros. They spend all year at their mundane jobs, passing much of their free-time and weekends raising money for the Casal or preparing next season's Falla. So when Fallas finally does come round, they let loose like Paquito here, drink a ton, dance a ton. It's their moment!


Falleras and falleros on their way to L'ofrenda to the Virgin, most likely accompanied
by a band playing traditional pasodoble songs like Paquito El Xocolatero.

Disclaimer: To like this kind of music is kind of like being a fan of "Dixie Land" in the States, which is to say, it is associated with a certain worldview and politics that, were you born in Spain, you might want to distance yourself from. Falleros tend to be more conservative and close-minded provincial, and, indeed, are likely to be those Valencians who regularly spearhead the irritating misguided efforts to declare Valenciano a distinct language from Catalan. My wife asks me to please not sing this song out loud in public, and, upon declaring my love of this Fallas music one day in Valenciano class, one of my classmates asked me whether I was sure "this was the kind of Valencian culture I wanted to associate myself with". Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and here it is worth playing the guiri card. I think this song is truly great, both melodically and lyrically. 

Some of the more traditional bands might be
playing the "dolçaina" flute i "tabal" drum,
traditional instruments of Valencia
If you agree, then I can recommend you some other classic songs of Fallas, which you can start downloading from here to create your own Fallas soundtrack. (Think of this music as being the equivalent to John Philip Sousa for the 4th of July.) A few of my personal favorites: La manta al coll, Valencia (yes, this is the song that everyone hears sung, "Valencia, es la tierra de las flores, de la luz y del amor, Valencia..."), Amparito la filla del mestre. These are more examples of pasodoble songs which you are likely to here falleros marching to come this March.

November 11, 2011

The Name Game: Common Nicknames

If previously I described some common composite names used in Spain, here I will expand a bit to mention some common nicknames (whose closest translation in Spanish is "apodo"). In general, giving your friends or family (random) nicknames, at least as a form of endearment, is not as common a practice in Spain as in the United States. What is common is hypocorism ("hipocorístico"), that is to use the "short for" version of a name much like "Bill" is short for William, "Dick" for Richard, or "Susie" for Susan in English. This particular kind of nickname is _very_ common in Spanish.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of common "short for" names you are likely to come across while living or visit Spain (or other Spanish speaking countries for that matter):

Common "Short for" Names:

Women:                                        Common nickname:
Adoración                                     Dori
Araceli                                          Cheli
Beatriz                                          Bea
Concepción                                  Concha
Consuelo                                      Chelo
Daniela                                         Dani
Dolores                                         Lola
Inmaculada                                  Inma
Jesús                                            Chus
Josefa                                          Pepa
Macarena                                     Maca
Purísima                                       Puri

Men:                                             Common nickname:
Daniel                                           Dani
Eduardo                                        Edu
Enrique                                         Quique
Fernando                                      Fer, Nando
Francisco                                      Paco
Guillermo                                      Guille
Ignacio                                         Nacho
Javier                                           Javi
Jesús                                            Chus
Joaquín                                        Chimo
José                                             Pepe
Manuel                                         Manu
Rafael                                           Rafa
Sebastián                                     Sebas

I can't help but think that some of these nicknames have become popular simply to compensate for how depressing, anachronistic, or overly religious the significance of the original full name is (e.g. Dolores, Concepción, Inmaculada).

I learned an interesting nicknaming trend in my Valenciano class recently. In Castellano, nicknames tend to come from the start of the name (e.g.Fran, Edu, Dori, Inma), whereas in Catalán they often come from the end (e.g. Cesc for Francesc, Pep for Josep, Bel for Isabel, Cent for Vicent). Not a hard and fast rule, but interesting none the less.

November 9, 2011

Shared Language ≠ Shared Culture: Spain's 4 Official Languages

"Come, let us go down and confound their speech."
Living with the Tower of Babel in a modern society
There is a lot of confusion among foreigners about what are the official languages of Spain. I know this personally because of the number of times I've had to explain it, and then re-explain it to my family when they visit me in Valencia.

For starters, there are _not_ five official languages, only four. Somehow outsiders have been given the impression that Valencian is a distinct, official language from Catalan, and continue to reproduce this false impression in educational textbooks or blogs. It is not! Valencian is a _dialect_ of Catalan, not a separate language! Don't take my word for it, just check the CIA factbook.

I am in a strong position to argue this point. I live in Valencia, I married a Valencian-speaking Valencian, and I am currently enrolled in classes of "valencià." So let me say it again and once and for all, valenciano is linguistically a dialect of catalán. There is no debate among language experts about this.

I suspect the origin of confusion on this issue has to do with the ongoing political tension surrounding regional identity and language between the Comunidad Valenciana and Cataluña. The government of Valencia regularly posts the dialect of valenciano in its official decrees as if it were a distinct language so as to distinguish itself from its northern neighbor. But one should not be naive. This representation of Valencian is political posturing. (It is kind of like renaming french fries "freedom fries.") It reflects certain Valencians' annoyance at being confused associated with their Catalan-speaking neighbors.

To make sense of this language farce debate, you need only remember one simple rule: shared language does not equal shared culture. For an in-depth explanation of the history of the languages of the Iberian peninsula, how they have evolved in dialogue with changes in the ruling powers, see here. A quick pass through the four official language—castellano, catalán (spoken by 17% of Spaniards), gallego (7%), and euskera (2%)—will suffice to show some of the lingual complexity and richness of Spain and how it reflects a cultural and political diversity, too.

Lingual boundaries don't always following political boundaries.

"Castellano" (Castilian Spanish), a.k.a. "español" is the national language and, in case you had any doubt, is natively spoken by everyone in Spain. (Some Spaniards, however, as explained below, are bilingual and thus also speak other official languages). Castellano is a Romance-language, that is based on the Latin introduced by the Romans. Castellano originated in the northern part of the Castilla la Vieja region, at the foot of the Cantabrian mountains. As Castilian, centrist Spain conquered other regions of Spain (discussed in my entry on 1492 and "la Hispanidad"), rulers required the conquered to speak "castellano" or Spanish, though often locals continued to speak their own regional language.

Linguistically castellano is technically the name of a dialect of Spanish, español. Though in Spain by default everyone usually refers to Spanish as castellano, and not español. Or actually, Spaniards call Spanish "castellano" when talking about Spanish within Spain, but tend to call it "español" when talking about the language at a global level, or when referring to the language as spoken by non-Spaniard Spanish speakers. Spanish, after all, is the second most natively spoken language in the world, after Chinese (Mandarin). (It drops to third, behind English, in lists of total number of both native and secondary speakers, and to sixth place for number of only secondary language speakers. French, Russian, Portuguese, and Arabic apparently have more pull in secondary language markets.) So one can understandably be confused by this equivalence made in Spain between what is castellano and español, given that everywhere else in the world it is simply called español.

A globally significant language.

To add to the confusion, there are dozens of regional dialects of Spanish _within_ Spain: murciano, extremeño, andaluz, leonés, aragonés, canario… which, themselves being dialects, could be considered on par with castellano, the dialect of the Madrid and Castilla La Mancha regions. Moreover, within these dialects one can encounter dozens of very distinct accents, dialects or sub-dialects. Just within Andalucía alone there must be hundreds of different accents. A person from Sevilla speaks with a very different accent than someone from Granada, even though both are in the region of Andalucía and natively only speak Spanish, a.k.a. "castellano." All this on top of the myriad of global regional dialects for "el español."

Four linguistically distinct languages, but hundreds of regional dialects.

Have I lost you? Well, now I'm going to bring in the other languages.

Catalán (Catalan) is another Latin-influenced language spoken in "los países catalanes," which includes Catalunya, but also includes Valencia and the Balearic Islands. Today, politically and geographically Valencia and the Balearic Islands are not part of Catalunya even though they share the language. Much like English is named for England, but spoken by non-English people (e.g. Americans, Canadians, Australians...), Catalán, the name of the language, comes from the medieval Catalan Principality, which only loosely corresponds with modern Catalunya, and which was part of the "Crown of Aragón" kingdom that once reigned over the Valencian, Catalunya, and Balearic Island regions (many, many centuries ago), not to mention regions of Italy and France. What's more, Catalan is still spoken in parts of southern France and Sardegna in Italy.

But the Catalunya region of today is not a vestige of that Empire. The modern political community emerged at the same time as and parallel to Valencia and the Balearic Islands. So despite what some Catalán people may think Catalunya has no political or cultural authority over Valencia even though they share a language. To draw an analogy, you could say that there are cultural attempts to build a "Catalanidad" (my word invention) that runs through all the Catalan-speaking communities, much like "Hispanidad" reaches across the Spanish-speaking world. But these attempts are frustrated by regional resentment (particularly in Valencia) at Catalunya's self-fashioned claim to be the center of Catalan(-speaking) identity.

Gallego (Galician), also a Romance family language, is the third most spoken official language and is used in Galicia. It is similar to Portuguese, reflecting Galicia's geographical proximity to Portugal, but is considered a distinct language.

Names in Euskadi look so different that highway
signs have to also list the castellano name:
Donostia, a.k.a. San Sebastián
Euskera, a.k.a vasco (Basque), the fourth official language, is not a Latin-based language but rather a wholly unique and indigenous language to the Basque Country. It is believed to be the language of the people in the region before the Roman conquest who resisted Romans and the uptake of Latin which occurred in the other regions of the Iberian peninsula. This singularity of euskera arguably feeds the Basque separatist sentiment today, though it is important to bear in mind that many people born and growing up in the Basque Country, especially in cities like Bilbao, do not speak euskera on a regular basis. (The same goes for gallego and catalán in Galicia and Catalunya.)

There is a fifth distinct language, aranés, a variant of Occitan spoken in Val d'Aran. But it is spoken by so few people that it is not counted among the official languages.

The Instituto Cervantes, official purveyor of
Spanish culture and language around the world
Spain's Constitution takes a pluralist approach to defining "official language," by calling "español" the _national_ official language and all other languages declared official by autonomous regions to also be officially recognized. Galicia recognizes gallego, Cataluña and the Balearic Islands recognize catalán, and the Basque country euskera. I suppose one could thus legally interpret the Constitution to mean that technically valenciano is a fifth language, because the Valencian government names it so, but to do so is to circumvent all linguistic reason and pander to Valencian reactionary politics.

If you have followed me so far, this is all you really need to know to understand the official languages of Spain, their relation to each other, and how they loosely graph onto geographical regions and cultural identities.

However, now I want to venture into the realm of speculation. It is my impression that, when people here use "castellano" instead of "español" to refer to the Spanish language, they do so in part because all of these languages—catalán, gallego, español especially—in Spain are (in spirit, if not linguistically) "español." I'm playing a bit on the lingual confusion created here by how "español" (the noun) is a language, but "español" (the adjective) is a description which incorporates (at minimum) a nationality and (more broadly) a shared geo-cultural identity which transcends regional languages.

Not everyone here would agree with my cultural assertion that Catalan, Valencian, Castilian are all "español." (Consider the opinions of separatists who would argue that the Basque Country or Cataluña are distinct cultures and therefore also languages from Spanish). There is a hugely important backstory to this fierce regionalism and linkage between language and political identity: under Franco's dictatorship, all regional language (esp. Catalan and Basque) were banned, and only castellano was allowed. When the dictatorship ended, the regional languages, which had continued to be spoken at home and in private, flourished once again, as did much lingual resentment towards central Spain and castellanismo.

But, again, I think the (unconscious) reasoning for why Spaniards refer to the Spanish language by its national dialect, "castellano," within Spain, while recognizing that the actual linguistic language (as disseminated globally) is "español," comes from the view that all four languages are "español." Seen in this light, Valencians sometimes make a reverse move by calling their catalán language by the local dialect, valenciano. Yet other catalán-speaking regions like Mallorca and Menorca speak catalán dialects such as mallorquí or menorquí, and don't claim them as a separate language. This says more about the identity politics and posturing of Valencia than about its linguistic distinctiveness.

Bottom line: Spain has four distinct languages, but many, many regional dialects, idioms, and cultures. 

Postscript:  Another blogger, Mr. Grumpy at Tumbit, posted a brave series of entries on his thoughts about the regional languages and dialects in Spain, Valenciano/Catalan, Galician, and Basque. I point you to them because 1) they provide a nice introduction to each language, but also because 2) they illustrate a common misconception among Anglophones: that bilingualism is somehow an impractical unnatural state... and thus, by extension, speakers of Catalan and Basque inevitably must fail to learn Spanish as well as Castilian speakers would. This is, empirically, not the case. Much of the world's population is bilingual (consider, for example, India or China). Moreover, children are perfectly capable of learning more than one language at a time, bilingual kids simply do so differently than monolingual ones. There is also an undertone of crass lingual functionalism whenever tourists, immigrants, or expats complain about the advantage or practicality of a country focusing on just one language, as opposed to many. As I hope this entry illustrates, and perhaps also proven by the hilarious failed language endeavor of esperanto, languages do not merely exist to unify humankind through logic, but embody histories of people that are heterogeneous, fluid, and even irrational...

... and can justifiably be deployed to keep people out of a culture a much as bring them in. While I certainly at times share Mr. Grumpy's frustration with how Catalan can alienate foreigners (though, to use American legal lingo, we are in fact "aliens"), I think it is time we Anglophone expats stop contributing to encouraging this monoligualist misconception of language learning and politics.

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