This weekend was a four day-er because Thursday was father´s day and the culmination of the fallos in Valencia, which is a giant fire festival that I wish I´d been to, but I think it was good to slow down my mentality of optimization and always trying for the best experience. I am for sure gonna try and make sure I get to do as much of the stuff that I want to as I can, but its also important not to make cramming the most amount of stuff into my time my main preoccupation here. This weekend was good for getting some valuable if not always positive life experience out of an unplanned and seemingly vacuous space of time.
Thursday night, after barely doing anything other than cutting my own hair with only scissors and my hands (which turned out pretty well, although the electric clippers are about 4 times as fast), I went out for a decent night with my housemate and some of her friends, that involved speaking plenty of Spanish with this Finnish girl (good to have another non-German) and making a whole transaction to buy beer in Euskara (we just learned numbers so now I can understand when I ask how much something is) and meeting these folks from Catalunya and trying to gather enough info from one of them, who said he had a bar in Barcelona I should go to, so that I would be able to actually remember and find it when Joshua and I are there. He told me the plaza, the bar, and his name, and suspecting I´d forget because we were at a bar, also gave me some tips on finding his facebook, which was still likely to be forgotten but I remembered one of his names that he spelled to me in catalan, the only difference being the way the x´s are pronounced (ixa(icksa), as opposed to equis in castellano, or ixa (eesha) in Euskara) but I got it, and describing that his profile picture had a dog flying through the air. I forgot some about the plaza where the bar is, but I for sure found a ridiculous picture of a dog flying in the air out of someones arms on facebook.
Saturday I went to my first real house party in Basque country. In general, people here go out to bars to party, and rarely have them at their houses. But this was a house with Germans and Americans. I went because I heard from my American friend, but my housemate also went who heard from her German friends. This house has paint everywhere, literally, the toilet was painted, the bathtub was painted, the walls had all kinds of mad poetry and drawings on them, some still fresh, necessitating caution when using walls as support. It kind of had the atmosphere of a drug house or a squat, which is not a bad thing. It was a nice change from always going around spending so much money at bars, because although they were still charging, it was much cheaper, and it was one place. There were at least two people who were born in Basque country, then lived in America, and are now back here and speak real American English and also good Basque, (although I didn´t ask if its more Batua,the standardized Euskara generally used in the schools these days, or the dialect from here), a lot of Italians, American, and Germans, some Polish folks, maybe some Finnish too. It was quite a party. Although all Germans learn at least like a working use of English, many here have as decent or better command of Spanish, and a lot of the other folk had good Spanish, too, sometimes better than their English, so there was a plenty healthy mix of languages.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
bertsolaritza
The Basque langauge was not written down until 1545. Before that it was only a spoken language. For this reason, the oral tradition of Euskara has traditionally been much richer than the written one, although that is changing as people write much more in Eusakara, but the oral tradition still survives just as strongly. By oral tradition I mean stories, jokes, and riddles, but especially singing.
This is what bertsolaritza is. It is an extremely nuanced art of improvisational singing. There are three main things that are important for singing bertsos: melody, rhyme, and meter. These obviously restrict what can be said or rather how something can be said, but they also work as guides to help the person reach their desired point with improvisation. The usual technique is to think of the last line first, then figure out how to get there on the way, using the melody, rhyme, and meter as guidelines. There are hundreds of traditional melodies that can be used, as well as using those of popular songs, and this goes with meter as well. The rhyme scheme is part of the structure, but the rhymes that go in the designated places can be determined by the bertsolari or by the gai jartzailea, the person in charge of setting the subjects in a bertsolaritza competition.
Historically, bertsolaritza has been extremely important in preserving not only stories and histories, but the basque language itself. Like all things Basque, it was outlawed under Franco, and bertsolaritza itself was probably one of the best tools for preserving the language. The dual act of learning and then reciting various bertsos helps ingrain it in memory much more strongly than only by route memorization. Bertsolaritza is also a source of Basque national pride, because with basqueness and Basque country so difficult to define, it is at least clear that those who sing and like bertsos are Basques.
Nowadays it seems as if there is a pretty strong future for bertsolaritza, with probably the highest number of people possessing the art in history, there are around 1300 different bertso events each year in all of Euskal Herria, including many competitions which draw thousands of people that sit in complete silence for multiple hours on end to hear bertsos. There also exist bertsolaritza schools in which people of various ages can learn the techniques and art of bertsolaritza. There are also an increasing number of women participating in bertsolaritza. It is still a male-dominated art, but at least a few of the people that participate in the highest competitions are women.
I have seen a decent amount of bertsolaritza by now. The first time was around 2 or 3 weeks into my stay here and I went with my intercambio to an event they had downtown one saturday afternoon where the bertsolaris were singing in the street, and then later in some of the downtown bars. In the plaza there was some news coverage of the event, and the camera man and reporter came up to me and asked me what assumably meant something like "What do you think" in Basque, and my intercambio told him I wasn´t going to understand because I was from Washington, but this only made them more interested in my opinion, and they asked me the same thing again, and gestured towards the singers in a manner that I took to mean they wanted me to talk about what was happening, so I said in terrible castellano that I liked it and that I was with my intercambio who knew a lot more about it than me, or thats what I tried to say. I have since met people in Tolosa that knew me from seeing me on television, haha.
Last Saturday, I went to Beasain for an event they had there that was a mix between a celebration for a political prisoner that was recently released and returned home, and a protest for the incarceration and dispersement of the remaining political prisoners. I went with my intercambio, his coworker from Italy, and his coworkers girlfriend from Colombia. We were quite the international group. It was good to have other people that don´t understand Euskara there to relate with, and a fellow american as well. They had people playing Basque music, Bertsolaritza, and at one point some girls started doing some Basque dancing as well. After this we went to my intercambios farmhouse, which was in Baliarrain, and which was so beautiful. They have this farmhouse that is in the middle of like super authentic Basque country, surrounded by misty green hills. That was really cool. Then we went to Tolosa, a place I am starting to feel relatively familar with, and ate and drank a little and played card games. Then I went and hung out with some americans and a Cuban Basque and ate some traditional Basque food and drank bottled cider.
Last Monday, USAC had a bertsolari come and speak to us first in English, and then for more complicated things in Castellano, about bertsolaritza and why its important and how they are sung. Before he spoke, someone in the audience had told him that I had been in Beasain two days before so he pointed me out during his speech. He sang us some bertsos in English, which was really impressive because its a totally different language than they usually do them in, and one in Euskara, as well as reciting a Cuban style verse in Castellano.
The most frustrating thing in all of these cases is my lack of comprehension of Euskara, it is slowly coming along, but in the bertsos all I can ever understand are words like "and", "boy", and maybe a few adjectives now, but not nearly enough to be able to really appreciate the art of the thing. I know its impressive, but I´m not able to specifically understand why.
This is what bertsolaritza is. It is an extremely nuanced art of improvisational singing. There are three main things that are important for singing bertsos: melody, rhyme, and meter. These obviously restrict what can be said or rather how something can be said, but they also work as guides to help the person reach their desired point with improvisation. The usual technique is to think of the last line first, then figure out how to get there on the way, using the melody, rhyme, and meter as guidelines. There are hundreds of traditional melodies that can be used, as well as using those of popular songs, and this goes with meter as well. The rhyme scheme is part of the structure, but the rhymes that go in the designated places can be determined by the bertsolari or by the gai jartzailea, the person in charge of setting the subjects in a bertsolaritza competition.
Historically, bertsolaritza has been extremely important in preserving not only stories and histories, but the basque language itself. Like all things Basque, it was outlawed under Franco, and bertsolaritza itself was probably one of the best tools for preserving the language. The dual act of learning and then reciting various bertsos helps ingrain it in memory much more strongly than only by route memorization. Bertsolaritza is also a source of Basque national pride, because with basqueness and Basque country so difficult to define, it is at least clear that those who sing and like bertsos are Basques.
Nowadays it seems as if there is a pretty strong future for bertsolaritza, with probably the highest number of people possessing the art in history, there are around 1300 different bertso events each year in all of Euskal Herria, including many competitions which draw thousands of people that sit in complete silence for multiple hours on end to hear bertsos. There also exist bertsolaritza schools in which people of various ages can learn the techniques and art of bertsolaritza. There are also an increasing number of women participating in bertsolaritza. It is still a male-dominated art, but at least a few of the people that participate in the highest competitions are women.
I have seen a decent amount of bertsolaritza by now. The first time was around 2 or 3 weeks into my stay here and I went with my intercambio to an event they had downtown one saturday afternoon where the bertsolaris were singing in the street, and then later in some of the downtown bars. In the plaza there was some news coverage of the event, and the camera man and reporter came up to me and asked me what assumably meant something like "What do you think" in Basque, and my intercambio told him I wasn´t going to understand because I was from Washington, but this only made them more interested in my opinion, and they asked me the same thing again, and gestured towards the singers in a manner that I took to mean they wanted me to talk about what was happening, so I said in terrible castellano that I liked it and that I was with my intercambio who knew a lot more about it than me, or thats what I tried to say. I have since met people in Tolosa that knew me from seeing me on television, haha.
Last Saturday, I went to Beasain for an event they had there that was a mix between a celebration for a political prisoner that was recently released and returned home, and a protest for the incarceration and dispersement of the remaining political prisoners. I went with my intercambio, his coworker from Italy, and his coworkers girlfriend from Colombia. We were quite the international group. It was good to have other people that don´t understand Euskara there to relate with, and a fellow american as well. They had people playing Basque music, Bertsolaritza, and at one point some girls started doing some Basque dancing as well. After this we went to my intercambios farmhouse, which was in Baliarrain, and which was so beautiful. They have this farmhouse that is in the middle of like super authentic Basque country, surrounded by misty green hills. That was really cool. Then we went to Tolosa, a place I am starting to feel relatively familar with, and ate and drank a little and played card games. Then I went and hung out with some americans and a Cuban Basque and ate some traditional Basque food and drank bottled cider.
Last Monday, USAC had a bertsolari come and speak to us first in English, and then for more complicated things in Castellano, about bertsolaritza and why its important and how they are sung. Before he spoke, someone in the audience had told him that I had been in Beasain two days before so he pointed me out during his speech. He sang us some bertsos in English, which was really impressive because its a totally different language than they usually do them in, and one in Euskara, as well as reciting a Cuban style verse in Castellano.
The most frustrating thing in all of these cases is my lack of comprehension of Euskara, it is slowly coming along, but in the bertsos all I can ever understand are words like "and", "boy", and maybe a few adjectives now, but not nearly enough to be able to really appreciate the art of the thing. I know its impressive, but I´m not able to specifically understand why.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Carnaval, or how I crossed the imaginary border of France
This is about my adventure to Hendaye the weekend after Ash Wednesday, with my Carnaval in Tolosa having been the weekend before. The blog for that adventure is probably not gonna happen. Basically, I spent all of Sunday drinking in the streets of Tolosa with a group of Basques, and a few folks from other near parts, dressed as Andalucians, dancing and singing songs to a shopping cart with a sex doll dressed up as the Virgin Mary. The important thing to know is that Tolosa carnaval is famous because it is one of the few places that Carnaval survived under Franco, so its especially strong and crazy there, and its different than some because it is for people to participate in, not to stand on the side of the streets and watch people wearing ridiculous headdresses, although I´m sure that is quite fun also.
The Carnaval in Hendaye is not before Ash Wednesday, because it really has nothing to do with Christianity. It has to do with Basque tradition, specifically that of instituting the New Year. There is not really a separate Basque calendar (I don´t think) but in the old times before Christianity, people used to celebrate the beginning of the new year at the logical time when everything starts to come back to life. Really these festivals (at least in some towns) are somewhat intended to wake things up again, which might explain their placement in the end of winter, rather than in spring once things have already actually come to life. The celebration that I went to see in Hendaye consisted of two main things that I felt were important for me to see. The first one is the joaldunak. These are people that dress up in sheepskins and burlap fabric and strap giant sheep bells to their backs and walk through the streets making a bunch of noise. When they do this, all the animals, and assumably some of people, run away after being frightened by the terrible racket. The ancient Basque people reasoned that the ghosts and witches must be scared off by this too, which is the purpose of the ritual.
The second part I really wanted to see was the the burning of the figure of Miel Otxin. This is part of a broader legend that goes along with the festival, that is acted out in the streets of many a Carnavaling pueblocito. In the legend, there is a man named Ziripot who lives in the street. Because he is too fat to work, he makes his living by telling stories in exchange for food. One day, however, an evil giant named Miel Otxin arrives with his evil sidekick, Zaldiko, who is something like a centaur. Because Miel Otxin is so big, and Zaldiko is a centaur with a whip, he is able to control the city and keep everyone living in fear. They have Zaldiko reshoed, and then force the people of the town to lay all that they have at their feet. However, because Ziripot has nothing, he gives nothing. The two tyrants will not accept this, however, and beat him to the ground. Being so big, he is unable to lift himself, and when the townpeople try to help him, Zaldiko keeps them away with his whip. Ziripot is stuck laying in the street for all day. Finally, after nightfall, his friends return to help him up. They start to discuss what is to be done, how they can not live under these two anymore. Ziripot tells a story of how a boulder fell in front of a farmers door, and he was unable to move it from inside or outside of house by himself, but finally after asking his neighbors for help, they easily removed it. The people understand, and they gather anything they have, torches, pitchforks, etc. and go after the two tyrants. Zaldiko, being a horse-man, is able to run fast enough to escape, but they catch the giant, condemn him to a public trial, hang him, then set him on fire for good measure.
This legend is also said to have a somewhat symbolic significance for the fight of the moon and sun, which is resolved with the sun winning out, and the longer days of spring and summer returning.
However, I didn´t see any of these traditions. I set of for Hendaye with my friend Scott, around 2, from Donosti on the Eusko Tren, probably one of the best things to come from the PNVs country-building efforts, in which one can take what amounts to something like what would be a Metro ride from DC to Baltimore (if such a system existed) for 1.25€. We arrived a little before 3, and then I realized I was in France(sort of). I had not really understand that Hendaye was in Iparralde (north Basque country) until we arrived there. This meant that I was really much more out of my element than usual. Although I am still lacking quite a huge bit in Castellano, I can generally get around and buy things without too much trouble. When everything is primarily French, and secondarily Euskara, its much more difficult. Sure people speak a bit of Castellano (and English) but it felt much different.
The border between France and Spain is imaginary in this case for two reasons. Not only does it run right through the middle of a nation, but with the Schengen agreement, it functionally really barely does exist. I was able to take a train over it without realizing it.
So we get there and buy sandwhiches from a woman who understands neither Castellano or Euskara (Scott studies Euskara), but is able to ask me in English if I want mayonaise. Then after eating we went on our way to see the Castle on the other side of town, and ended up following some other travel looking kids through a hospital complex in which it was necessary to jump a fence at the end to get to the correct road to the castle, then went on a nature trail that we assumed would get to the castle. It did, sort of, but it really took us to a highway, then we walked back towards town on the highway to the castle. The trail was nice, but was shaped in such a way that if we had just gone the other direction on the highway it would have been about a 5th of the time. The castle cost 6.50€ for admission, and we weren´t convinced it was worth it. But it was pretty on the outside. I was sick this weekend, so that didn´t help the walking, but it was still worth it. By the time we were headed back into town it was about time to find the activities, but also to find more food and water, and maybe our friends that were also there. After a few failed attempts to exit the beach (hopping the fence into private property only escapable by jumping back to the beach) we encountered a supermarket in our attempt to locate our friends, and bought lots of water, some wine, cheese, meat, peppers, and a corkscrew, then set of to find our friends and the festivities. After some confusion about where best to meet, and heading to the river side of town, we ran into people playing music, and saw the effigy of Miel Otxin, but thought that we were supposed to go meet some people at a church that was supposed to be the best place to watch the procession. We also needed to buy bread, which was necessary for all the other things we had bought, but had forgotten. We wandered farther into town, found a panaderia, bought some bread and found out that we had missed the parade, but could still see the burning of Miel Otxin, where we had just been so we went back there. By the time we got there however, all we saw was the smoke that was leftover after he had been burned. Then we realized that that was actually in front of the church we had been looking for. The reason we didn´t find it very easily was because it was shaped more like your typical protestant office building american church, and we were looking for like at least slightly elaborate crosses and stuff. Oh well.
The Carnaval in Hendaye is not before Ash Wednesday, because it really has nothing to do with Christianity. It has to do with Basque tradition, specifically that of instituting the New Year. There is not really a separate Basque calendar (I don´t think) but in the old times before Christianity, people used to celebrate the beginning of the new year at the logical time when everything starts to come back to life. Really these festivals (at least in some towns) are somewhat intended to wake things up again, which might explain their placement in the end of winter, rather than in spring once things have already actually come to life. The celebration that I went to see in Hendaye consisted of two main things that I felt were important for me to see. The first one is the joaldunak. These are people that dress up in sheepskins and burlap fabric and strap giant sheep bells to their backs and walk through the streets making a bunch of noise. When they do this, all the animals, and assumably some of people, run away after being frightened by the terrible racket. The ancient Basque people reasoned that the ghosts and witches must be scared off by this too, which is the purpose of the ritual.
The second part I really wanted to see was the the burning of the figure of Miel Otxin. This is part of a broader legend that goes along with the festival, that is acted out in the streets of many a Carnavaling pueblocito. In the legend, there is a man named Ziripot who lives in the street. Because he is too fat to work, he makes his living by telling stories in exchange for food. One day, however, an evil giant named Miel Otxin arrives with his evil sidekick, Zaldiko, who is something like a centaur. Because Miel Otxin is so big, and Zaldiko is a centaur with a whip, he is able to control the city and keep everyone living in fear. They have Zaldiko reshoed, and then force the people of the town to lay all that they have at their feet. However, because Ziripot has nothing, he gives nothing. The two tyrants will not accept this, however, and beat him to the ground. Being so big, he is unable to lift himself, and when the townpeople try to help him, Zaldiko keeps them away with his whip. Ziripot is stuck laying in the street for all day. Finally, after nightfall, his friends return to help him up. They start to discuss what is to be done, how they can not live under these two anymore. Ziripot tells a story of how a boulder fell in front of a farmers door, and he was unable to move it from inside or outside of house by himself, but finally after asking his neighbors for help, they easily removed it. The people understand, and they gather anything they have, torches, pitchforks, etc. and go after the two tyrants. Zaldiko, being a horse-man, is able to run fast enough to escape, but they catch the giant, condemn him to a public trial, hang him, then set him on fire for good measure.
This legend is also said to have a somewhat symbolic significance for the fight of the moon and sun, which is resolved with the sun winning out, and the longer days of spring and summer returning.
However, I didn´t see any of these traditions. I set of for Hendaye with my friend Scott, around 2, from Donosti on the Eusko Tren, probably one of the best things to come from the PNVs country-building efforts, in which one can take what amounts to something like what would be a Metro ride from DC to Baltimore (if such a system existed) for 1.25€. We arrived a little before 3, and then I realized I was in France(sort of). I had not really understand that Hendaye was in Iparralde (north Basque country) until we arrived there. This meant that I was really much more out of my element than usual. Although I am still lacking quite a huge bit in Castellano, I can generally get around and buy things without too much trouble. When everything is primarily French, and secondarily Euskara, its much more difficult. Sure people speak a bit of Castellano (and English) but it felt much different.
The border between France and Spain is imaginary in this case for two reasons. Not only does it run right through the middle of a nation, but with the Schengen agreement, it functionally really barely does exist. I was able to take a train over it without realizing it.
So we get there and buy sandwhiches from a woman who understands neither Castellano or Euskara (Scott studies Euskara), but is able to ask me in English if I want mayonaise. Then after eating we went on our way to see the Castle on the other side of town, and ended up following some other travel looking kids through a hospital complex in which it was necessary to jump a fence at the end to get to the correct road to the castle, then went on a nature trail that we assumed would get to the castle. It did, sort of, but it really took us to a highway, then we walked back towards town on the highway to the castle. The trail was nice, but was shaped in such a way that if we had just gone the other direction on the highway it would have been about a 5th of the time. The castle cost 6.50€ for admission, and we weren´t convinced it was worth it. But it was pretty on the outside. I was sick this weekend, so that didn´t help the walking, but it was still worth it. By the time we were headed back into town it was about time to find the activities, but also to find more food and water, and maybe our friends that were also there. After a few failed attempts to exit the beach (hopping the fence into private property only escapable by jumping back to the beach) we encountered a supermarket in our attempt to locate our friends, and bought lots of water, some wine, cheese, meat, peppers, and a corkscrew, then set of to find our friends and the festivities. After some confusion about where best to meet, and heading to the river side of town, we ran into people playing music, and saw the effigy of Miel Otxin, but thought that we were supposed to go meet some people at a church that was supposed to be the best place to watch the procession. We also needed to buy bread, which was necessary for all the other things we had bought, but had forgotten. We wandered farther into town, found a panaderia, bought some bread and found out that we had missed the parade, but could still see the burning of Miel Otxin, where we had just been so we went back there. By the time we got there however, all we saw was the smoke that was leftover after he had been burned. Then we realized that that was actually in front of the church we had been looking for. The reason we didn´t find it very easily was because it was shaped more like your typical protestant office building american church, and we were looking for like at least slightly elaborate crosses and stuff. Oh well.
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