Grave Error

These book vending machines are a nice alternative to the ones that just sell junk food. I have no idea whether they actually make many sales. This one is at the Principe Pio train station in Madrid. There are also a bunch of small libraries in a few of the Madrid metro stations where people can check out books for the commute.

During the first two years of the war in Iraq, my neighbor sported a large banner on his balcony that read “No a la Guerra” or “No to War”. Then last January he hung a flag of the pro-Sahrawi (Algerian and Libyan backed) Polisario, in favor of Western Sahara’s independence from Morocco. And over the past few days following the recent disturbances in the region between the Polisario and the Moroccan government, he has decided to once again hang the Polisario flag.

What I find interesting is that a person — not to mention the whole gang of self-righteous Spanish actors – who was so vehemently against one war in an Arab country when the American right claimed to be toppling a human rights abusing dictatorship is now so eager to favor another war in an Arab country, but this time with the difference that it is the Spanish left who gets to denounce a human rights abusing dictatorship. I suppose in retrospect the original slogan should have read “No a Esta Guerra” instead of the moral condemnation of war of in general.

If anything, what we learned from Iraq is that the world becomes a very wicked place when people so confidently and self-righteously believe that they have the truth on their side.

On November 6, 1975 in what is known as the Green March, 350,00 Moroccans peacefully protested in southern Morocco to demand that the Spanish government handover the Spanish Sahara to Morocco – reinforcing the notion that peaceful resistance is more effective than other alternatives.

Thirty-five years later this week and some sectors of the Spanish press and mainly left-leaning activists still have a strange passion for intervening in the region. As I have mentioned in previous posts – regardless of where one may stand on the independence of Western Sahara – it is strange that the Spanish left would take such an active position in favor of the Algerian and Libyan financed Frente Polisario considering that Spanish intrigue continues to have strong imperialistic overtones for the Moroccan people.

For an example of how the Moroccans see the liberation from Spanish colonialism – done through peaceful protest – as a proud and heroic moment of the triumph of the People against the Imperialists, check out the above video of the song “Laayoune Iniya” from the early 70s by Jil Jilala, a group that pioneered a new generation of grass roots folk musicians widely popular at the time amongst European and American granola hipsters. The song, meaning “Laayoune, my eyes” (a play on words as the city name “Laayoune” is derived from the same root as the word “eyes” and “springs”) became the anthem for the Green March and the liberation of the last remaining vestiges of European colonialism in Morocco.

And yet here they are, the Spanish granola hipsters of today, thirty-five years later, coming off as the Spanish imperialists redux.

On an unrelated note, I know what morcilla is and I know what lengua is. And even though I see the two words together almost every day at lunchtime, I am not quite sure whether I really want to do the math and figure out what morcilla de lengua is.

On September 8, 2000, I left Washington, DC and arrived in Madrid, Spain on the following morning. For the next five years or so, I would negotiate with myself, “one more year, one more”, and then later Madrid or Paris, until the next thing I knew, I had already spent an entire decade – all of the 2000s (or however we’ll call this decade in retrospect) – in Spain.

Somehow when I look in the mirror, I keep thinking that I will resemble that same guy who left home a decade ago. And yet so much has happened both in my life and back home. For example, I missed the entire Bush presidency and the post-9/11 years. In Y2000, I didn’t have a cell phone, iTunes, WiFi or a blog even. And during this period, I lost two grandfathers, two great uncles, a great aunt, and a couple of friends. But I gained a nephew, a niece, three first cousins, a goddaughter, and countless friends. And just last year, I was thrice married: each time to the same woman.

Whenever people ask me why I moved to Spain a decade ago, I always give the same answer: I can’t even begin to remember.

As I wrote a few years ago during a similar circumstance, there cannot possibly be anything as low budget, juvenile, and downright silly than these guys from ETA. It looks like someone let the elementary school kids make their own Halloween costumes and put on their own play this year.

When watching the news on Spanish TV, my mother — who is visiting me in Madrid this week — couldn’t believe that the ETA video was real and not a parody. Were I Basque, I don’t know what would be more embarrassing: having a terrorist group act in my name in the year 2010, or having this terrorist group?

Today Raul Gonzalez announced that he was leaving Real Madrid after sixteen years with the first team. I have never been a big Raul fan, mainly because during the last decade (since I have lived in Madrid), Raul’s performance was consistently discrete, having lost his unique spark of the 90s. Nevertheless, I fully recognize that his lack of protagonism on the field was made up for by his stellar leadership role. Without a doubt, Raul — as far back as I can remember — has been the local emblem of his team.

What struck me most today when I read the news was not that Raul was leaving (I have been waiting for that for a few years) but the date in which he first debuted with Real Madrid: October 29, 1994. At first glance, 1994 doesn’t seem so far in the past, but sixteen years is in fact a long time. Just looks at the second video to see how much Raul as changed since his debut. It is a good measuring stick of how much time has changed in the past decade and a half.

After one of the tensest finals in recent memory, Iker Casillas gives us the best play of the entire World Cup.

Torres, whose athletic performance has been well below par during the first round of World Cup play, did at least successfully pull off this fine display of theatrics. The result was a red card for the Chilean player. FIFA often reviews video footage of games to determine whether to sanction players for unsportsmanlike conduct — usually limited to aggression or disrespect for the referee — but this practice should be expanded to castigate unsportsmanlike theatrics and other tactics that undermine the game.

When Thierry Henry’s undetected handball helped France qualify for the World Cup, the French public — in large numbers — actually protested the injustice (one of the first drops in the bucket leading to the popular disrespect for their national squad). It would be nice to see the Spanish press ostracize Fernando Torres for his shameful display. The Spanish should leave the cheap tricks to the Italians and Argentines.

Some recent favorites from my often tasteless friends at Mi Vieja: