The City: A Solipsist's Paradise

I'm not a city person.  I grew up in a small town, attended smallish schools (until college), and have lived my adult life in the 'burbs.  Aside from a summer in Busan, South Korea (pop. 3.6 million) nearly 1/4 century ago, I've mostly steered clear of cities.

City living is different in lots of ways, obviously.  It's louder.  In Barcelona, driving is tricky and parking is expensive, so you walk and use public transport instead.  You shop often, near home, buying less at a time, carrying/carting it home.  Those brave souls who do choose to drive all hate each other.  The faster their vehicle, the more they hate being thwarted.  Car horns should be illegal.  Really.

Due to density, there are far too many people on the street to greet or even bother to look at directly.  We pedestrians dodge each other, occasionally bumping elbows, negotiating or downright demanding right of way.

Barcelonans smoke.  Damn near everyone.  They contaminate the air in front of you then chuck their toxic butts with impunity anywhere they like, which is to say directly in front of me.  Occasionally they cough up the phlegm their smoking induces, leaving gooey landmines in your path.

They're not the only ones.  Their dogs leave landmines, too.  They pee on buildings (for lack of trees), but worse, they do their dirtier business in the center lane and then instinctually scratch at the stone in a vain effort to bury it.  Luckily, the vast majority of the dogs' servants take pity on us and clean up after their canine lords, but even so, keep your eyes peeled.

So dirtied and disrespected are the streets and sidewalks of Barcelona that most are swept and sprayed down everyday.  How I love the street cleaners!  Even the ones who smoke while they work.

This past weekend, the NYTimes published an opinion piece entitled "The Quiet Ones".  In it, the author laments that some people "refuse to recognize the moral reality of those around them," and proceeds with: "It's a pathology that seems increasingly common, I suspect in part because people now spend so much time in the solipsist’s paradise of the Internet that they carry its illusion of invisible (and inaudible) omniscience back with them out into the real world."

But cities are a solipsist's paradise, too.  When you're surrounded by everyone, you're in the presence of no-one.  So smoke away.

Where Am I?

One supporter of Catalan independence told me that the Catalans and Spanish are "like beans and rice, totally different".  (And he didn't mean they go well together!)

Barcelona is in Catalonia, Spain.  Those are the political facts.  And to many, that's the social reality.  Nonetheless, I'm always reticent to say I'm in Spain.

When speaking with people here (whom I don't know so well yet), I'm loath to speak of being in Spain without first speaking of Catalonia, for fear they'll view me as politically or culturally clueless.  Also, when writing to folks (presumably elsewhere), I feel it's important to stress that Bcn is in Catalonia, something other than the Spain which they might imagine.

But just how is Catalonia different?  Well, there are some obvious calling cards: language (Catalan), customs (castells, caganers, galets, caga tió), self-image (seny).  But fundamentally, what makes a Catalan different from, say, an Asturian or Madrileño?  What does being Catalan mean to Catalans?

I don't really know.  Trying to figure that out.

Evictions

El País has just reported a suicide in Córdoba.  The victim jumped from the window while being evicted from his home.  This is the 4th such suicide in as many weeks.

In each case, the victim has been in his or her 50s.  (The first three were all 53 years old, and today's was 58.)  No idea whether that's anything but mere coincidence, or if not, what the reason might be.  Something about the life stage or psychological profile of 50-somethings that makes them particularly susceptible to such desperation?

This is upsetting.  If such extraordinary events are becoming common, how large an iceburg is hiding under the surface?  Just how much suffering and desperation is there?

One hears discussion of "the crisis" everyday.  Unheard-of levels of unemployment.  Extended families living off of retired grandparents' pensions.  Stores closing, empty restaurants, begging in the streets, dumpster diving.  Spain's economic problems are beyond my comprehension.

The Enemy of Good

I've been busy.  I often think about writing here, but I don't do it.  That's a problem.

The reason, I think: I've conceived of this space not as a blog, but as a collection of essays.   I'm expecting too much from each entry.

Let's fix that.  The plan from here out: write early and often.

The World Prefers Obama

President Barack Obama has been re-elected, as you know.  In terms of popular votes, it was closely contested; nearly 1/2 of Americans voted in favor of his Republican rival, Mitt Romney.

The rest of world would have voted very differently, favoring Obama roughly 5 to 1.

Only Pakistan -- the US's frienemy -- favors Romney.  And not by much.  The rest of the world seems to be breathing a collective sigh of relief.

Why does the world favor Obama?  His international policy is friendlier.  European leaders, for example, characterize Obama as (more) open to working in concert to solve problems.

I'm ignorant of economics; I genuinely don't know what kinds of policies work well (or why).  Let's face it: it's extremely complex.  Lamentably, far too many people seem far too sure of themselves, tending towards conviction even (especially?) on matters they scarcely understand.

Social policy and international openness, however, are easier to get a handle on, and the Democrats are the party of greater social freedom and international cooperation.

I'm delighted that Obama has been re-elected.  I'm not your "God Bless America" type.  If I believed in a god, I'd want her to bless everyone equally.

Starting Out

Outside of the US, that is.

My family and I have been living in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain for two months.  We moved here to shake things up and to stretch our brains -- our world views, language skills, everyday experiences.  It's a big change.

I've started blogs before.  Each time, I write an intro "why I'm blogging" entry.  But I've never kept those blogs going, and maybe it's because the "why" wasn't quite right.  This time around, I won't claim to know my audience or goal yet.  We'll see.

By writing, I hope to understand. Or at least to feel like I'm gaining on it.