Catastrophes and incompetence in Spain

 Not a well-documented carefully-written piece, but a stream of personal thoughts, written in frustration, rage and impotence at what we've seen this week.

Tuesday's (29/10/2024) rainfall and flash floods in the Valencia region were horrendous. But foreseen; with accurate data and warnings from the weather service published and broadcast on TV/radio throughout the day. Knowing how much water had fallen in the mountains upstream, they had a very close idea of how much water would flow through the (normally dry) ravines that towns have been built around and what height the water would reach as it raged through streets and homes. By mid-afternoon/early evening they knew it was going to be a nightmare and called for immediate action. All this data and warnings were passed on to the local authorities who have to decide what action to take.

However, the local authorities (the Valencian autonomous government) failed to act in time; they failed to emit the official warning from the government (the most efficient system sends an audible alarm and message to all mobile phones in the area) in time for people to go home or stay indoors which would have allowed/forced shops and factories to close, and people to realize the seriousness of what was about to happen in a question of hours. They sent the warning too late, losing valuable hours, when the floods had already hit most places and most of the victims had probably already been washed away or were trapped in places where they had little chance of survival. Yes, this level of rainfall and flooding surely meant chaos and deaths whatever, but on what scale? Perhaps, with the correct warnings and emergency measures that 21st century technology and up-to-the-minute scientific data offer, we could have been looking at a dozen dead if we compare to similar cases around Europe? Who knows. Now, we're looking at least two hundred according to the latest update (Saturday 2 Nov). If they had sent the warning mid-afternoon or even an hour or two earlier than it was broadcast, there would still have been enormous flood damage but many, many lives would have been saved as people got to safety in time.

Throughout the night Tues-Wed, the scale of the catastrophe was becoming clear even for those of us just following social media. Hundreds of cries for help from people trapped, injured, up trees, on car roofs, with the water (and bodies) raging past, people who'd been unable to hold on to their loved ones, people trapped in underground areas filling up with water and so on. Cries for help on social media as the emergency telephone lines were completely overrun and undermanned (the service had been privatized to save money).

The post-flood response by politicians has also been hopeless; too slow and too little. Apart from whatever rescues could go on during the long night, by daybreak Wednesday they must have been able to appreciate the magnitude of the tragedy, and the amount of immediate rescue and recovery work needed. There should have been many helicopters (military and emergency services) in constant action, searching for people and bringing in food, water and whatever was needed, and hundreds of rescuers on the ground, and asap, calls  to organize the arrival of several thousands of Spain's hardly-used military troops to come and start the clear-up, not the couple of hundred who were apparently moving. The immediate response was on nowhere near the scale needed. Nor was the response in the following days as the regional government - in charge of the operation - seemed to be inoperative or unwilling to accept the dimensions of the catastrophe.

Just yesterday, Saturday, 4 days later, there were still people without food, water, medicine or a roof over their head. People who still hadn't seen Spanish emergency services in their town or the famous mass arrival of troops. People literally still trapped in their homes as they have 3 feet of mud and a heap of wrecked cars piled up against their house. And we're talking about towns 10 or 20 km from the third biggest city in Spain, not trying to reach the crashed plane in Alive! Volunteers, on foot with sweeping brushes and shovels and local farmers with tractors have carried out most of the clean-up in these first days, or been bringing in bags and trolleys of food and medicine while offical help and aid has been way too short on the ground.

There'll probably be major health problems in the making too with contaminated water everywhere - sewage, petrol, chemicals, dead bodies decomposing.

Dead bodies are still to be found and recovered from piles of cars, basements, ground floor buildings, underpasses, underground carparks, those washed out to sea... The death toll is currently over 200 but the fears are it could be many more. For this reason, perhaps the local govt refused to offer any new data yesterday, for fear of people's reactions and protests if we know the true numbers?

For the first few days there has been no attempt (at least that I know of) to provide centres in every affected town offering psychological help and support for all survivors and relatives of victims/the missing, just the bare minimum for those few who have received the official information that they've lost a loved one.

There have been restrictions in some areas on the tens of thousands of volunteers who've marched from Valencia city to help every day. Supposedly because they might get in the way. In the way of what, if there's been little happening in many of the places the volunteers have reached? Or perhaps the restrictions are to try and cut off the flow of videos and photos showing just how dramatic the catastrophe is?

Actually this is not just my personal opinion based simply on watching the news and social media and listening to testimonies on the ground, but ties in with that of many experts and people with experience in emergencies. They're all saying the local government is/was ill-prepared and did not act swiftly enough with the data they were given on Tuesday afternoon and failed to organize a sufficient response in the following days.

Next will come the inevitable cover-up of the mistakes and negligence, alongside political blame-passing on a scale never seen before.

Then will come the phase that those who think they'll avoid jail (or Hell) are waiting for: sharing out the aid and recovery funds. Remember the earthquake in 1980 near Naples (as mentioned in Ferrante's My Beautiful Friend book)? Of the 40 billion which was supposed to help, it sounds like (wikipedia) only about 1/4 of the money, 9 billion, was actually used for real aid and victims; the rest was pocketed by corruption*

>Footnote: regarding one of the Valencian government's politicians "in charge" of emergency services; all we know of his agenda for Tuesday (with weather services offering constant warnings) is he had a 'working lunch' with a bull-fighting association. Nothing was heard of him then till on Friday when he tweeted a photo saying he'd been straight into work at 11 o'clock (sic) on Wednesday to deal with the emergency. It has turned out too (since writing the first version of this), that the President of the regional government himself was at a private 'lunch' and out of reach on the Tuesday of the catastrophe and didn't turn up at the emergency meeting (called at 17.30 but inoperative as no one really grasped what was happening or wanted to take a decision) until 19.00. 

  [*we'll leave for another day the levels of corruption, bribery and ignorance which led to the decades of barely-regulated urban planning behind this disaster]

Article updated with a couple of changes on Monday 4 Nov as more info has come out.

Flags / Banderes

 

[CATALAN/ENGLISH] El tristor d’aquesta foto i aquesta bandera.

És la plaça central del meu poble natal. Fa anys un bullici de gent sortint a fer la compra, anant a fer un te, parant per a xerrar-se. Ara han fet una placeta nova, grisa i trista, amb alguna gent passant els malsons amb una botella a la mà, i altres esperant que obren el banc d’aliments. Fins fa poc, mai hi havia una bandera aquí. I ara, per què?

Rebobinem en el temps. Als anys 1970s-1980s jo no recordo haver vist gairebé mai ni banderes britàniques (el Union Jack) ni banderes angleses (com aquesta, la de Sant Jordi) en espais públics ni privats a Anglaterra.

Bandera d'Anglaterra (la de Sant Jordi)

Bandera del Regne Unit/Gran Bretaña (té un nom, el Union Jack)

Ni es posaven banderes a les comissaris de policia, ni correus, ni l’ajuntament, pel que jo recordo, ni molt menys a les places, parcs, o espais privats – cotxes, jardins, la roba.... Potser a Londres a llocs com el Parlament o el Palau de la Reina, sí, però com que no hi anava, pos, no ho sé. De fet, les úniques vegades que recordo haver vist la bandera de Sant Jordi en aquells anys, era sempre en mà d’una colla de skinheads feixistes. O desfilant per les ciutats, o pegant a minories etniques a les noticies, o barallant-se amb altres grups a les platges els dies de festa nacional.

Era així, per bé o per mal, la bandera anglesa anava sempre lligat a partits com el Frent Nacional (feixistes) o altres grups d’ultres i hooligans. La bandera britànica, encara la podries veure a la tele en algun activitat esportiu però a pocs llocs més. Per què? A l’escola, un professor de confiança, i anti-bandera, ens deia que només els països fràgils i insegurs tenen necessitat de fer ostentació dels símbols nacionals – banderes, desfilades de tancs, himnes nacionals a totes hores etc. Amb això ens volia dir que Anglaterra era un país que havia superat això. Tenia raó? No ho sé, però evidentment per qualsevol jove mínimament d'esquerres, veient qui portava la bandera, ja teniem clar el que representava per natros i d'evitar qualsevol persona que la portava.

El fet és que després dels anys de la Thatcher: misèria i grisor per a la majoria de la població, vam arribar als anys 1990s, amb el Britpop, els Spice Girls, el futbol a tope de moda amb l’invent del Premier League i Sky TV, polítics joves i ‘enrotllats’ etc., i  la gent volia festa i rauxa (anglesa). Es va començar a celebrar tot lo British, tot lo English, amb un orgull descarat que jo no havia vist en la vida, com si el país volia renéixer després de la Thatcher. A més el capitalisme més salvatge va generar molts diners a Londres, al City, en mans d’uns joves que ho havien de gastar (mentre la gent més allà del voltants de Londres vivien com podien, o baixaven a Londres a buscar feina). La bandera britànica estava arreu, damunt dels Minis, als vestits dels Spice Girls, a la venta dels supermercats per a decorar els jardins fent barbacoes en la pluja. També, van començar a aparèixer la bandera anglesa sobretot relacionat amb el futbol, ja que tornava a estar de moda, amb uns estadis nets i segurs, i preus desorbitats, després de anys d’hooliganisme, violència i desgracies.

Però per uns quants amb memòria, com jo, per molt que deien que s’havia ‘reclamat’ la bandera, pensàvem (1) per a que? i (2) estaven segurs que l'havien reclamat? Vull dir, a partir de la tercera cervesa, l’alegria del futbol i festa fàcilment tornava a ser un entorn de racisme, violència i superioritat envers els altres països etc., amb la bandera a la mà. Cal tornar a reviure per enessim cop la historia (esbiaixada i blanca) dels anglesos i nedar en un tsunami de nostàlgia, banderes, símbols, i Britannia Rules The Waves un altre cop? No podem acceptar a ser un país més i anar fent?

Bé, passen uns anys més i al principi del nou mil·lenni, tornen a pujar partits d’ultra dreta, modernitzant el Frent Nacional d’abans. Deixen els caps rapats i Doc Martens darrere, i comencen un nou discurs populista més modern, aprofitant el Proud to be British/English que estava de moda, i rascant sempre el tema dels europeus i animant la gent a sortir de la UE si volen mantenir l’essència del que és ser British etc. I tot això sota les banderes, aprofitant que ara eren mainstream. Després vindria Farage i cia i el Brexit. El seu populisme i racisme (i corrupció) s’amagava bé baix les banderes i el missatge de 'orgullos de ser anglès' sovint evolucionava cap a 'Anglaterra per als anglesos'.

Un altre 'anècdota' que explica per què, en la meva opinió, la bandera anglesa segueix tenint connotacions dolentes. Tradicionalment no s'ha celebrat mai el Dia de Sant Jordi a Anglaterra, malgrat ser el patron del país. En part per lo que he dit abans, no calia tanta ostentació de banderes i 'orgull de país' fa uns anys. Però des de fa uns anys, els fatxes han començat a moure fitxa i fer una mena de dia de 'celebració de ser anglès'. L'any passat va sortir a les noticies que els grups d'ultradreta (relacionat amb grups d'hooligans i partits fatxes com Britain First etc.) van fer una marxa 'de celebració' a Londres. Alguns anaven vestits de Sant Jordi, tots amb les banderes ben altres, i entre cantics contra els immigrants, cervesa i cocaïna a dojo, van acabar amb aldarulls lluitant contra la policia. Bonica celebració!

Poc a poc, s'ha anat venent el conte (i cada cop més) de que no ets orgullós del teu país o respectuós amb els milers de Brits que han mort en guerres, si no admires la bandera. Fa uns anys (10, 15?) es va començar a posar banderetes arreu, i banderes grans als parcs públics, jardins comunitaris, monuments, sovint cuidat per grups locals de gent patriota. Tothom té un iaio o oncle que ha mort en alguna guerra, que menys podem fer per ells, pobres, que tenir una bandera al mig de la plaça?

I així, al mig del meu poble natal, s’ha posat aquesta. I si per algun motiu la treuen, hi hauria una protesta de les grosses (“aquests wokes tornen a atacar-nos!”).

Mentrestant, el poble ha passat de tenir un supermercat d'una cadena amb valors socials, dos bancs, una oficina de correus, un mercat gran i viu on venia gent de tota la provincia a comprar, botigues diverses de comerç local, etc, a ser un poble sense res –  hi queden dos cases de fer apostes, una botiga d’alcohol barat, botigues de vapadors, i un banc d’aliments – i una bandera. Els governs i mitjans saben molt bé a que juguen. Primer la bandera, després un plat calent a taula.

Per no parlar de lo que representa aquesta bandera per a la gent que ha nascut fora d’Anglaterra, en països on el imperi britànic només va anar a saquejar. Aquesta gent que fa 2 o 3 generacions que viuen a Anglaterra, quan veuen onejar la bandera, saben quin entorn els espera i saben que no han d’aixecar la veu. Una forma de recordar-los quin és el seu lloc en la societat. Mira, fa escaig un mes, gent ‘normal’, simplement 'orgullosos de ser anglesos', del poble meu van anar a intentar fotre foc a un hotel ple de immigrants i treballadors locals. Van portar banderes amb ells.

2          PD: dos punts personals

*  ”Però si a tu t’hem vist amb la bandera catalana, Brian.”  Pos, sí. Però cada lloc és un mon diferent i cada símbol representa alguna cosa diferent allà on ets. En certs contexts, no tinc problema en portar banderes; reconec que com a símbol de la lluita per a que Catalunya pugui exercir els seus drets, endavant. La bandera és un altre element de la cultura i societat catalana i com a tal simbolitza allò que demanem, poder decidir si volem ser un estat o no. Però en el context britànic que he explicat, té un significat molt fosc o trist, plena de connotacions dolentes i, per a mi, és totalment innecessari que torni a onejar.

**  ”Però si t’hem vist posar la bandera de Sant Jordi a casa pel futbol, Brian.”   És cert, Em va costar, però la vida és per a viure-la i, si per passar-ho bé, i fer un element d'humor i de xalera post-ironic amb els amics i família A CASA, ho puc fer amb l'ajut d'una bandera que m’ha costat 50 cèntims (de rebaixes) al supermercat un cop cada 4 anys, OK, endavant. Ara que els xiquets s’han fet grans, fins i tot deixaré de fer això ja que el futbol no m’interessa gens. 

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[ENGLISH] A few words on the sadness epitomized in this photo and this miserable-looking flag.

The photo was taken in the summer (2024) in the central square of my hometown. A small market town with a population of about 12,000 in the north of England. When I still lived there, the square would have been alive with shoppers, dog-walkers, people stopping for a chat, locals on their way to have a tea or coffee. But times have changed. The square was recently renovated and the result of the huge investment made is this uninviting grey concrete area where nowadays you are more likely to see someone looking for hope in a bottle of wine, sleeping on a bench while they come down off drugs, or waiting for the food bank to open. The other difference is that when I was younger, we never had a flag raised in the middle of the town – so, why now?

First of all, for non-Brits, remember that in England we use two flags: the Union Jack, a mixture of red, white and blue, horizontal and vertical crosses, representing Great Britain or the United Kingdom. And the English flag, the red cross of Saint George on a white background.

OK, let’s start. Back in the 1970s and 1980s when I was growing up in England, I can’t remember seeing either British or English flags in public or private spaces. I don’t remember seeing a flag outside police stations, post offices, or town halls like we see here in Catalonia, let alone in public spaces like parks or private places like people’s gardens or on the back of their car. I suppose there must have been flags in London at the Parliament or Buckingham Palace but as I never went there, who knows? In fact, the only times I do remember seeing the English flag in those days, it was in the hands of gangs of racist skinheads.

Yes, back then the English flag was strongly linked to far-right racist parties like the National Front and the accompanying groups of skinheads and football hooligans who went on their marches. The Union Jack, or British flag, was perhaps more socially accepted and you’d see it at some sporting events but it wasn’t omnipresent either. Why was there a lack of flags back then? Why was it left to be picked up by these small, but violent and noisy, groups of racists? In school, one of my more left-wing-leaning teachers told us that only countries who were not sure of themselves, who were fragile, felt the need to make a very public ostentation of their national symbols, like flags and anthems, or have huge military parades to celebrate their National Day and so on. He was saying that England, and the UK, didn’t suffer from this need to prove itself and this was why the general public and the authorities didn’t need to fly flags – but racists trying to stoke division would use it as their symbol. Was he right?

If we move past the 1980s and the horror years of Margaret Thatcher, which represented little more than hardship and social problems for most of the country, when we got to the 1990s it was as if the country breathed a sigh of relief and woke up again. The phenomenon of BritPop, the Spice Girls, English football back in fashion thanks to the invention of the extremely commercial Premier League and the arrival of Sky TV, a new wave of young and ‘hip’ politicians back in power… it was as if the country wanted to party once more. On top of that, the radical capitalism of the late 1980s and 1990s led to some people in London (in the financial district known as the City) with too much money to spend while the rest of the country looked on, or went down to London in the search of work, but still wanted to join in with the fun. Part of this fun was an emergence of a “Britain is back”, “Proud to be British” feeling which led to the Union Jack flag suddenly, and surprisingly (for me), appearing everywhere. On the roofs of Mini cars, on the Spice Girls’ dresses, Oasis’ guitars and so on. Sold cheaply in supermarkets to decorate the garden for the summer barbecues and parties. It was suddenly cool to fly the flag. The English flag also moved into the mainstream, above all connected to football. The modernisation and commercialisation of football in the 1990s meant people flooded back into the stadiums after years of violence and trouble, and money was spent on club shirts, over-priced tickets and flags.

But for some of us who remember the use of the flag by the far-right in the 1970s, even though we were now told that the flag had been ‘reclaimed’, we still had our doubts. Why are we bringing it out again? Are we sure it’s been reclaimed and revamped into something cool? I mean, after three beers, the mood around much of this patriotic flag-waving could swiftly change from fun back to racism, xenophobia, and this feeling that England is best again. Did, or do, we really need to immerse ourselves in a celebratory revival of a one-sided view of British colonialist and war-mongering history again, swept along in a tsunami of nostalgia, flags and other national symbols and stereotypes, to the soundtrack of “Britannia Rules the Waves” once again? Can’t we just decide to be ‘just another country’ like all the others in Europe and concentrate on making it a better place to live in?

Moving forward a few years. As we entered the 21^st century, far-right parties once again raised their ugly heads in more modern versions of the National Front in England. Leaving their shaved heads and Doc Marten boots behind, they offered a new racist front, more acceptable on the surface, with new political arguments but still based on cheap populism, fear and hate. As I see it, they also took advantage of the “Proud to be British/English” boom to sell their message of hate (a message that any newcomers, especially with darker skins, will change what it is to be British etc.) under an English flag. Anti-European voices also became louder and louder leading eventually to Nigel Farage and his friends’ campaign to get the UK out of Europe via the Brexit referendum. This decision was a victory for populism and racism.

Another moment in recent history also feeds into this connection I feel between the English flag and racist groups. Saint George’s Day has rarely been celebrated in England as far as I remember, despite George being the patron saint. This lack of celebration is probably due to the lack of a need to insist on our national symbols, as I said above. However, recently things have started to change and small groups of violent flag-waving men (a mixture of hooligans, voters of far-right parties like Britain First and so on) do now try and ‘celebrate’ or, more often, cause trouble. Earlier this year a group, with some even dressed up as Saint George and all waving the flag, marched through the centre of London, probably off their heads on alcohol and drugs, and singing anti-immigration chants. It finished up as a riot with these ‘patriots’ fighting the police. What a celebration!

The spread of the flag hasn’t stopped with just these openly racist groups, though. Slowly but surely, the message we pick up is that you are not proud of your country or have no respect for the thousands of English and British citizens who have died fighting wars unless you fly the flag. Some years ago (10 or 15?), flags started to appear everywhere – public squares, parks, shop windows, gardens, war memorials, car stickers… Everyone in England has a grandfather or uncle or great-grandfather who fought in a war – surely it’s the least we can do, to raise a huge flag in the centre of town?

And that’s where we are today. Although when I was younger, we didn’t need flags and other national symbols everywhere to honour our forefathers, it seems like it has now become an essential addition to every public space. And don’t question it, unless you want to be insulted and labelled a “non-patriotic woke fool”!  

Meanwhile, my hometown has gone from being a small but lively town with a relatively ethical and social supermarket, two banks, a post office, a huge market attracting shoppers from all around the county, and a wide range of small family-run shops to being a dead town with two betting shops, a cheap-alcohol shop, a vapers shop and a food bank – and a flag. Our governments and the press know full well what they are doing. First, the flag - we’ll talk about jobs and social welfare another day.

Another point to mention regarding this recent obsession with flags is just what it means to people born outside of England, or whose parents came from abroad, from countries the British Empire took over and ransacked. Maybe they’ve been living in England for two or three generations but when they see people obsessed with the flag, they must share my feelings and remember the same things I do. They know what it means, who waves it the most, and that it is a subtle way of reminding them what their place is in society. A final example - this summer, during the anti-immigrant riots, some of these “we’re just normal people, proud to be English” from my hometown tried to burn down a hotel full of immigrants (and local people working as staff) a few miles away from my family home. And they were all waving flags.

Postscript: two personal points.

“But, we’ve seen you with the Catalan flag, Brian”

 True, you have. As far as I’m concerned, though, symbols like flags can represent different things and different feelings. In a certain context, such as the Catalan one, I feel fine raising a flag as a symbol of Catalan culture and the demand for the Catalans to be able to exercise their right to decide on their future. The English flag, on the other hand, holds darker connotations for me and I’d be pleased to see it off the streets and back in the drawer as I cannot see its symbolism changing in the near future.

“But we’ve seen you with an English flag at home too when the football was on, Brian”

 Also true. I wasn’t completely comfortable with it, but at the end of the day, we have to enjoy ourselves and if we can have a bit of family fun and make jokes with friends by decorating the house (our private house) with a couple of reduced-price flags bought for 50 pence at the supermarket once every four years, then so be it. Now our kids are older, though, even this will probably come to an end as football means very little to me and the ‘fun’ of watching a match together with a pizza has almost gone.

Men / Homes

 

[CATALAN/ENGLISH]  Quatre ratlles més sobre la violència contra les dones. Ja sé que els blogs s’han passat de moda, però com que m’agrada escriure per a mi mateix, cosa que m’ajuda a endreçar els meus idees, som-hi. També cal afegir que tot el que escric potser semblarà molt evident per a la meitat de la població, però a l’hora d’agafar el boli virtual estic pensant més en l’altra meitat – els homes.

Començo per confessar que adonar-me de l'abast del tema del masclisme, la misogínia, i la violència contra les dones a tots els nivells em va costar. Vaig arribar tard, molt tard. Suposo que és per la meva situació – ser home, en una relativament bona, privilegiada, situació – però el fet és que tot el tema dels abusos, agressions, i violència masclista ha sigut com un ‘punt cec’ en la meva vida; simplement un problema que m’havia passat per alt fins fa poc. Ho sento. Mira, pensant enrere, no soc de liderar cap causa ni de cremar palaus, però sempre he intentat estar en el costat bo de la historia, i interessar-me o fer alguna cosa per a moltes reivindicacions. A l’uni als anys 80s, vaig participar en les campanyes contra l’apartheid de Sud Africà, i també comprant samarretes i enviant diners a causes com Nicaragua, Guatemala etc. Donant suport als CND (en contra de les bases d’armes nuclears a Anglaterra), i als miners durant la vaga del 84-85. Soci en alguns moments de un munt de ONGs: Metges sense fronters, Pallassos sense fronters, Save the whales, Save the donkeys, Oxfam, SEO/BirdLife, Greenpeace... Activista molt involucrat en la Plataforma en Defensa de l’Ebre. També vam organitzar recol·lecta de diners per refugiats de les guerres dels Balcans al lloc on treballo, etc.... en fi, he participat en la majoria d'aquestes causes des de la seguretat del sofà, sí, però almenys estava conscient dels problemes – igual que les lluites contra el racisme o l’homofòbia etc.

Tot aquest rotllo ho explico per a dir que flipo i m’avergonyeixo de no haver estat, fins fa uns pocs anys, realment conscient del nivell de masclisme en la societat – a tots els nivells; des dels comentaris i actituds de menyspreu i ‘casual sexism’ o micro-masclismes, fins a la violència més bestia.

Quan a casa o conversant amb alguna amiga, m’explicaven comentaris sexistes que havien rebut, la meva resposta era estil ‘Vaja, quin idiota’, i tornava a fer el que estava fent, o quan es parlava de casos de violacions o assassinats a les noticies, doncs, ‘Quin boig més malvat. Next’. Però sense donar-ho més voltes, ni d’ajuntar, en el meu cap, les peces del puzle o adonar-me de l’abast i connexions de tot plegat.

Però algun dia, em vaig començar a despertar i adonar-me que la meva situació de home (a més, blanc, europeu, amb feina...) em dona uns privilegis en la vida, i que a la vegada també m’havia tancat la vista dels patiments de l’altra meitat de la població. Vull dir que, molt bé Brian, això de salvar les balenes o pensar en minories arreu del món, però el problema que tens al costat, el que afecta el 50% de la gent del teu voltant, és tan gran i tan normalitzat que ni ho veus. Per sort, fa uns 8 o 10 anys, a base de converses a casa, i una filla que creix en tots els sentits (edat i coneixement i visió del món), i les campanyes (a les xarxes i als carrers) de visibilitzar el tema, i de llegir molt, vaig començar a entendre i assumir la gravetat de tot plegat i on és el problema. És amb els homes.

Fa 4 anys, en veure l’enessim cas de violència contra dones a les noticies vaig aprofitar un espai que em deixen a un portal local de noticies i informació per escriure aquest article (enllaç). Una mena de “violència masclista per a principiants (o sigui, homes com jo)”. Un text força tímid que intentava explicar això, que som els homes que hem de canviar evidentment, i que això només passarà si acceptem la realitat de que hem creat i perpetuat una societat patriarcal que menysprea a la meitat de la població.

Un text més ben escrit (i corregit) que aquest d’avui, però quatre anys més tard, ara publicaria un article força més contundent, i cada dia més.

Bé, com he dit, faig aquests quatre ratlles sobretot per a mi, una mena d’ordenar i repassar les idees per poder aplicar-los en el meu dia a dia. No tinc gaire cosa nova a dir, simplement insistir en això per no caure dins del pou del pessimisme: els homes ens hem d’adonar dels privilegis que hem tingut, i els hem de trencar, trencar esquemes i maneres de pensar, i treballar com podem per a una societat d’igualtats. De la mateixa forma com passa amb el tema del racisme o l’homofobia, els petits gests que tots fem i podem fer, o sumen o resten.

Les ‘brometes’ entre amics; donar més importància o no a obres/feines de homes/dones; petites accions com quins autors recomanem de llegir; com les escoles i instituts estan organitzats (80% del pati pels futboleros;  aquest xiquet revoler, posa-li al costat d’una noia...). O  a nivells de ciutat: per què la majoria de carrers o places porten noms d’homes; o per què quan pensem en la historia o els famosos d’una ciutat, donem preferència als homes (Barcelona = Gaudi, Picasso, Cruyff, Messi...). Quan parlem de historia, ens basem sempre en batalles i regnes. En fi, tot suma per crear un entorn on es normalitza que les dones no son importants o ens internalitzem una mena de menyspreu envers elles.

I després de tenir aquesta base de menyspreu, poden passar coses més greus. I passen. No conec quasi cap dona/noia que no ha rebut comentaris o ‘bromes’ que li fan sentir malament o amb por, o que no hagi patit mirades i tocaments pel carrer o quan van en transport públic, etc.

I quan arribem als casos que considerem molt ‘greus’ (spoiler; tot és greu, si una noia s’ha sentit malament al Metro, demà potser no hi voldrà anar; si a una companya li han dit alguna cosa sobre el seu físic, demà potser canviarà de vestit o es quedarà a casa...), com els abusos, violacions, assassinats etc, tal com s’ha vist aquesta setmana amb el cas a França, no, no son 4 bojos que podem tancar i s’ha acabat el problema. Aquests violadors d’una dona drogada (drogada pel seu marit – busca el cas de Dominique i Gisèle Pélicot si no sabeu de que parlo) son gent que viu amb família i fills, gent que treballa en llocs habituals, com de bomber, funcionari, periodista..., que et saluden pel carrer, que semblen “lovely people” com diuen d'alguns. O sigui, gent normal o gent trastocada? Gent normal o monstres? Això diran els experts, però hi son arreu, posa’ls-hi el nom que vulguis, i sí que hi ha un fil que lliga tot plegat – des del menyspreu i micro-masclismes del dia a dia i els ‘petits’ abusos fins a la violència més extrema. Podria escriure pàgines donant més exemples (aquest estiu les tres noies assassinades a Southport, les tres dones matades amb ballesta a Londres...) però no cal – només cal mirar les noticies CADA setmana per trobar casos d’allò més violent.

Per tant, aquella resposta defensiva de reflex de molts homes (que se senten atacats quan es diu que els homes son violents), el famós "no tots els homes som així”, no té gaire importància ni sentit. Segur que sí, que no tots els homes son així (però molts sí), però el problema de fons és que no hi ha manera de saber qui ho és i qui no. Si una dona rep un lampista a casa, o treballa en una oficina compartida, o se seu al costat d’un home al tren, o es creua amb algú pel carrer, com sap qui és i qui no és violent o qui li farà un comentari o tocament o quelcom més ‘greu’? Potser no son/som tots els homes, però, com diuen, sempre és un home. Per què costa tant acceptar i entendre’l? Per una banda, la fragilitat intern dels homes, que no volem acceptar mai que no tenim la raó. I en un article que he vist avui algú ha preguntat i donat una altra possible resposta. Potser és perquè els homes, per moltes noticies que veiem, moltes coses que passen al nostre voltant, per molt horroritzat que ens podem sentir, no sentim la por que deuen sentir les noies i dones.

Que podem fer com a homes? Si cadascú des del seu àmbit s’atura per a reflexionar ja seria un començament. Cal acceptar que anar a la defensa, amb un Not All Men, no ajuda gens. Fes un esforç per demostrar que tu no ets així, que les dones en que et trobes per la vida poden sentir-se segures. Posa’t “en les seves sabates” abans de parlar o actuar (lo clàssic, si vas darrere de una noia pel carrer de nit potser millor que frenes o travesses el carrer). Deixa de riure quan els companys fan ‘brometes’. I dir-los que n’hi ha prou, que una 'broma' sobre violència a casa o sobre violacions simplement no és una 'broma', i no té ni cap ni peus. O quan algú fa burla de les propostes polítiques de donar suport a les dones i/o reduir el masclisme en la societat, dis-los que no tenen raó, o contesta quan es critica qualsevol dona en l’escenari públic (futbolista, cantant...) d’una manera exagerada comparat amb el tractament que rebria un home. Per exemple, a les xarxes on tothom li agrada criticar, sovint baix les intervencions o propostes d’alcaldes, diputats, consellers etc, només veus comentaris negatius – però si la persona política és una dona o fa una proposta en clau feminista, sovint reben el doble de critiques i amb un to molt agressiu.

Què més? Informar-nos – hi ha milers d’articles i llibres i vídeos que podem llegir i mirar. I escoltar a les noies i dones quan volen parlar de com se senten. I sobretot parlar en els fills (i alumnes i companys) i fer-los veure com portar-se amb valors de respecte i igualtat.

Algunes coses estan canviant – o potser només és una percepció personal? Quan jo era adolescent, ni es parlava de res d’això a casa ni a l’institut. I a les teles el sexisme era el pa de cada dia i ningú ho qüestionava i era el model de comportament que apreníem. Per sort, ara a casa comentem els estereotips o masclisme d’aquesta pel·li, aquesta cançó, aquest reality show... amb ulleres de igualtats/feminisme. Alguns joves es comencen a ‘despertar’. Dins de les cases alguns pares hem començat a parlar amb els fills (no deixant tot en mans de les xerrades mare-filla). A moltes famílies i cases s’ha obert el meló de parlar de casos d’abusos etc. que hi ha hagut i de que tradicionalment no s’han parlat, fins que avui dia tots podem adonar-nos de l’abast i les estadístiques impensables de la realitat. I el que això vol dir; que 1/3 de les noies i1/4 de nois han patit abusos, vol dir que a cada classe n’hi ha d’abusats i a cada carrer o bloc de pisos n’hi ha d’abusadors. O en una família gran de 12 cosins...fes números. I deixa de fer 'brometa' que banalitza tot això.

Que quasi la meitat (o és més?) de les dones han patit agressions sexuals d’alguna mena, vol dir que tots coneixem algú que n’ha patit – i segurament tots coneixem homes que les han comes. Ho dubteu? Mira el cas Pelicot un altre vegada; en un poble de uns 6000 persones, l’home va trobar gairebé un centenar de homes que volien violar la dona, homes que sovint tenen feines en que et poses en les seves mans (infermers, per exemple). És esgarrifós, però és real. Monstres o gent normal? Qui sap, però estan arreu i a prop, molt a prop. Per no parlar de la quantitat de no-monstres que no pensen dos cops abans de perpetuar qualsevol acció masclista etc. Hora de despertar-nos i actuar, homes.

  Editat per afegir un punt més: algú m'ha explicat que el problema que tenim els homes, en general, és que pensem en blanc i negre amb aquest tema. Pensem que, o estàs entre els homes que estan en contra de les agressions o ets un agressor, o sigui que només hi ha dos grups. Com que la majoria volem pensar que anem amb els ‘bons’, doncs, no hi donem massa voltes. Pensem que el 90% som bons, i els altres 10% els dolents. El problema és que la realitat no son dos grups, sinó un espectre de grisos i cada home es troba en un punt diferent. Una gama de casos i 'nivell de acceptació' que segur que qualsevol dona podria explicar molt millor que jo, però faré un esforç. Hi ha homes que acceptaran ‘bromes’ en privat, però no els diran en públic; homes que pensen que no passa res per fer una brometa davant dels fills o amigues però no van més allà; homes que pensen que son homes bons però els surt una broma 'sense voler' sobre violacions o violència domèstica; homes que sumen a això també el fet de dir comentaris pujats de to i no volgudes a les dones companyes de feina; altres que els dirien davant de tothom en qualsevol lloc; altres que qüestionaran la roba que la parella posa per anar al gimnas; altres que marejaran una dona que els ha dit que No mil cops a la barra d’una discoteca; altres que intentaran donar-les una beguda més, a veure si tenen ‘sort’...; altres que s'asseuen precisament al costat d'una dona sola a l'autobus encara que va buit... etc., fins arribar als casos d'agressió més flagrants i fisicament violents. O sigui, tothom és diferent i tots els homes tenen ‘límits’ diferents, però l'objectiu consistiria en que tots fem un pas (o diversos!) de cara al costat del respecte i la igualtat en aquesta escala de grisos.
Per tant, si un home llegeix aquest text o veu les noticies més alarmants, no hauria de dir simplement "Jo no soc violador, jo els mataria a tots" i tancar el tema perquè ell pensa que està dins del grup dels 'bons' - però continuar fent brometa masclista davant els fills, o dient "Jo t'ajudaré amb la neteja de la casa", o no creure's-ho quan un jugador del seu equip està acusat d'una agressió sexual, o no comentar la noticia de la violació amb ningú perquè li és incomode, o riure's o criticar si una cantant té diverses parelles sexuals, o mirar amb ulls com a taronges a cada noia que passa pel costat, fins i tot sortint de la oficina per veure-la, o xiular-la, etc...  tot suma per crear aquest entorn toxic en el qual vivim. I no és tampoc una escala simple de esquerres o dretes politiques tradicionals - fins i tot, dins dels entorns que pretenen ser més progressistes o més amables, plens d'homes que diuen ser aliats, si rasquem una mica, sovint surten actituds de menyspreu, prepotencia, i masclisme al superficie. Si ho dubtes, parleu en les dones que tenim al voltant.
Per cert - i acabo! - com que l'idea és aprendre per a millorar, qualsevol opinió o critica del que he escrit, molt benvingut! Thanks!

Per cert, homes: hi ha moltissima informació que es pot llegir. Aquests dos llibres, per exemple, seria un bon començament: 

(ENGLISH) A few thoughts (again) regarding the non-stop horror of violence against women. Writing this more for myself than anyone else, to put my idees down ‘on paper’ and try and think what else I can do. If anyone is reading this, I realize too that half the world’s population is already fully aware of all this – but it’s the other half (the men) who do need to wake up and smell the coffee as they say.

Confession: I was late, very late, to realizing just how widely spread the problem of sexism, misogyny, and violence against women is in society. Probably it’s down to my personal situation – a man in a relatively comfortable and privileged situation. But it’s still shameful that sexism, sexual aggressions and violence have almost been a kind of ‘blind spot’ for me until relatively recently. I’m sorry and ashamed. Thinking back, though I’m not one for leading a cause or storming the palaces, I’ve always tried to be on the right side of history and do my little bit. In the 80s, along with most students, I participated in the campaign against apartheid, sent donations and bought the t-shirts for causes like Nicaragua, Guatemala etc, supported the miners in their strike, bought the badges and signed petitions for CND and so on. At different moments in my life, been a member of or donated to loads of NGOs: Greenpeace, Oxfam, Doctors without Frontiers, Clowns without Frontiers, Save the you-name-it… I have helped out actively in local environmental campaigns or different social problems. Helped raise money for the refugees from the Balkans wars. To sum up, though mainly from the safety of my sofa, I’ve done a bit to be aware of and help out with many social issues.

All this rabbiting on is to show just how poor it is, then, that I missed one. Until a few years ago, the gravity and scale of the ‘casual sexism’, denigration, harassment, abuse and violence men constantly carry out on women, wasn’t on my radar.

Whenever at home or chatting with a friend, they’d explain about a sexist comment they’ve had to put up with, I’d go “Jesus, what an idiot”. Or when you see rapes and murders of women on the news, then “What a crazy bastard”. But without giving things a second thought, without linking the pieces of the puzzle together in my head and realising the enormity of the tragedy women face in our society.

But one day, I started to wake up (call me woke, I mean it, do) and slowly but surely became aware that my situation (white male in Europe with a job) offered me privileges and an implicit feeling of entitlement which were blocking out the suffering and pain experience by half the population. What I’m trying to say is that, it’s all well and good to save the whales or work to help certain discriminated groups but the problem I have sitting next to me, the one affecting 50% of the people I know, is so big yet so normalized that I wasn’t even seeing it.

Luckily about 8 or 10 years ago, after many conversations at home, and a daughter also growing up, in every sense, and speaking out, and seeing more and more women campaigning, and by reading as much as I could, I started to grasp and accept the gravity of the situation and just where the problem lies. With men.

A few years ago, after the umpteenth case of violence against women in a short time, I wrote this article in Catalan (link) for a local Catalan news website. It’s a kind of “male violence against women for dummies (like me)” article, quite weak and with the brakes on but I did attempt to explain how I felt, that it’s up to men to change and this will only happen once we accept the reality of the patriarchal society we have created and perpetuated which ignores, despises or harms half the population,

Re-reading that article, at least it was better written and organized than this brainstorming but now, four years later, I would be much firmer and clearer in what I have to say.

As I said, these few lines are not carefully written to be published but more as a series of notes to myself, bringing thoughts together, letting off steam, and revising things I (we) could do in our day to day lives. There’s nothing new I can add really, just insist on the key factors: as men we have to realize how entitled and privileged we are in the balance of men/women, and that it’s time to break this up, beak down the norms and habits and ways of thinking so ingrained in society, and work to build a society based on equality. Each of us can do something – every small gesture helps, or hinders, depending in which direction we move.

Those ‘jokes’ among male friends; considering men’s opinions, work, jobs, even works of art to be more important; the classic “I’ll help you do the housework, love”; how schools are organized with 80% of the playground for the football playing lads, or when teachers make the boisterous lad sit next to a girl so she can ‘calm him’ (and put up with his behaviour). In towns; why do most streets, squares or public buildings bear the names of famous men; why do we think first of men nearly every time we think of a city (Liverpool, the Beatles; Barcelona, Gaudi and Messi). The teaching (and glorification) of history through a series of kings, battles, and empires, a testosteronal history. You get where I’m going, all this everyday sexism adds up till we internalize it and don’t even notice we are constantly relegating women to a lesser sphere.

And after that, worse things can happen – and do. I know hardly any women who haven’t received a sexist comment or joke when out and about, or non-welcome looks and even being touched on public transport or in the street etc.

Finally, it all links up to the ‘serious’ abuse/violence cases (spoiler alert: everything is serious, independently of whether you or I think it is. The girl who was made to feel uncomfortable on the bus, will she take public transport again? The women whose clothes or weight was commented on by workmates, will she change how she looks tomorrow or worry about her physique?). But, moving on, we get to cases of sexual abuse, rape, and murder. As we’ve seen this week in France, it’s not so simple as saying “yep, these men are evil, lock them up” because it goes much deeper and wider than that. These hundred or so rapists of an unconscious woman (look up the case of Dominique and Gisele Pelicot if you don’t know the story) are not what we like to think of as villains, easy to spot, easy to catch, easy to lock up. Nope, we’re talking about men with families, wives and kids, with ‘normal’ jobs like firemen, journalists, nurses ... men thought of as ‘lovely people’ in the small town where this happened, one guy actually came round to fix the kids’ bikes. So, what are they? Normal men, or crazy men? Normal men, or monsters? That’s up to the experts to define but, whatever label we use, they are everywhere and there is a thread that links together all of this – all the way from the very slightest attitudes of disdain or superiority, casual sexism and micro-aggressions, through to the very worst acts of violence. We could list loads of examples (just this summer, as well as the French court case, we’ve seen three girls killed in Southport, three women shot by crossbow in London...) but there’s no need, it’s as easy as watching the news every week to see more and more cases.

Having said all this, it’s pretty obvious that the knee-jerk defensive reaction of many men (who feel attacked when women say men are violent and aggressive) to claim “Hey, not all men are like that” doesn’t help at all. OK, not all men are violent rapists, OK, but the top and bottom of the problem is that women do not know who is and who isn’t. When an electrician comes round to their house, when a man sits beside them on the train, when they share a closed office with a man, how do women know which men will say something, touch them, or attack them? They don’t, so they fear (or watch out for) all men. As they say, maybe it’s not all men, but it is always a man. Why is this so hard for us men to grasp? Apart from the fact that many men are so fragile on the inside that they feel attacked whenever women speak the truth, I saw another possible explanation in an article today. Maybe men don’t get it because however bad the news is, however many cases of sexual abuse they hear about, however surprised or saddened they feel, they don’t feel fear every single day of their lives. Like many women must do.

What can we, men, do? If we just stop and think a while instead of a knee-jerk “Hey, I’m one of the good guys, can we change the subject?” it’d be a start. Accept that the defensive Not All Men is not helping matters. Make an effort to actually demonstrate that it’s not all men, and try and change the balance. Help the girls and women around you to know they can feel safe. Try ‘standing in their shoes’ and think how they must feel in different situations before you say or do anything (the classic and recommended action of, when you find yourself behind a woman walking home at night, cross over to the other side of the road). Stop laughing at sexist banter. Tell your mates you’ve had enough. Be aware of when people in the public eye (footballers, pop stars, politicians...) are being treated differently or criticised more blatantly and unjustly for being a woman.

What else? Inform yourself. There are loads of books, videos and articles out there to find out more. Listen to the girls and women around you if they want to explain what they feel. And, above all, men, speak to your sons (and male students and male workmates etc.), show them how to behave with values of respect and equality for all.

Some things may be changing? Who knows. I’d like to think so but it might be a personal sensation. When I was a teenager, no one talked to me about sexism or how to ‘treat’ girls or women, neither at home nor at school. And all the examples you’d pick up around you or on TV – remember, we learn through examples – were normally examples of sexist behaviour. Luckily, nowadays, at home (ours, at least) we comment on news stories, song lyrics, films, TV shows, from a feminist/equality point of view, questioning stereotypes, social norms, and all levels of inequalities and sexism. Many youngsters have their eyes open these days too. Some (let’s not say ‘many’) fathers speak to their sons (not just leaving the ‘problem’ to mothers and daughters to talk about). And in some households, previously taboo subjects like sexual abuse are now spoken about, timidly. Listening to family members, reading serious well-documented articles, it’s time to realize just what the numbers are telling us. If about a third of all young girls and a quarter of boys have been abused, it means there are going to be cases in every class you teach or your kids are in. It means there are child abusers in every street, every block of flats, every medium-sized workplace. Imagine there are twelve cousins in your family, and do the maths... 

If about half of all women (I think the number is higher but I haven’t checked) have suffered some kind of sexual aggression, it means we all know a woman who has suffered. And we all know a man who is guilty of sexual aggression. You sure? Yes. Look at the Pelicot case again, a small town of 6,000 inhabitants and the husband found at least a hundred rapists to rape his wife. Many in jobs with a certain responsibility, even a nurse who may one day be looking over an unconscious patient... Unbelievably horrific and frightening. Normal men or monsters? You decided. And what are the numbers for men who don’t rape but think nothing of other levels of harassment or abuse? The fact is the problem exists, the numbers are what they are, any woman can tell you their daily experiences. Time to act.

Edited to add this postscript: someone has recently told me that part of men’s problem is that we see everything in black or white. That is, we think you’re either a ‘good man’ or a ‘bad man’. You’re either against sexual aggression and violence or you are ‘in favour’ (i.e. you do it). And since most of us think we’re with the ‘good guys’ we think that’s enough – just think you’re not causing problems and close the case. We believe that 90% of us are goodies, and 10% baddies. But the truth is far from black or white. It is in fact a spectrum of greys and each of us finds himself at a different point. For example, some ‘good guys’ still like a sexist joke or banter in private; others see no problem in saying the joke in front of family or workmates, “It’s just a joke”; others might ask a workmate to cut out the sexist jokes, others might laugh; other men see no problem in making sexist comments to women at work; or on the bus; others might question how their partners dress to go to the gym; others will insist and insist again to the woman they’ve met at the bar; or insist she has another drink, despite her multiple refusals; others sit just beside the sole woman on the bus even though it’s empty… and so on, until we reach the more flagrant examples of sexual aggression. To sum up, we’re all different and every man, however ‘good’ he believes himself to me, can do something – like try taking one step on the spectrum towards the side of equality and respect. Or two steps.

What I mean is that a man reading this or seeing the news shouldn’t just say “Hey, I’m not a rapist, I’d hang them all” and consider his contribution over and move on to talk about the weather… but still keep saying sexist jokes in front of his kids, offering to ‘help’ his wife in the house, refusing to believe his team’s star player has sexually abused someone, showing no interest whatsoever in the constant barrage of news stories of violence against women, laughing or criticising the latest female celeb or pop star to have had several relationships, staring mouth open at every woman who walks past the office or building site, etc… then you (we) are also helping to create the toxic sexist environment that enables much worse things to happen..

Ok, if anyone has anything to add or debate about, please do!

Prestatgeries #shelvies

[Catalan/English] 

Fa temps un parell de persones van penjar a les xarxes fotos de les noves prestatgeries que havien fet a casa per als seus llibres. Com que soc força orgullós d’unes que vam fer natros (fets per natros, no fets fer per natros), vaig pensar en penjar fotos també. Després vaig tirar enrere pensant que era una mica presumir/postureig sense sentit. Després em vaig re-re-pensar, pensant ‘Quina tonteria, si la gent penja fotos dels fills, del cotxe, del dinar que han fet, per què no?” En resum, la conclusió és que si em fa content i em dona alguna cosa per a distreure’m a casa, perquè no fer aquest post?

Tot això fa dos anys! En fi, aquest estiu m’he posat les piles.

 >Some time ago a few friends posted on social networks photos of the bookshelves they had made or designed for their homes. As proud as punch with my DIY shelves, I thought I’d do the same. Then I paused and thought, no, that’s just useless posing. Then I re-re-thought “Why not? People post photos of their kids, their dogs, cars, recipes…” If it makes you happy and gives you something to do, why not. Two years later, I’ve just remembered all this and got round to it.

Llibres a la casa. Quan vam notar, fa molts anys, que acumulàvem molts llibres - massa per als llocs que havíem trobat en comprar aquesta casa petita - vam decidir convertir una petita habitació (de 250cm x 250cm) en una mena de biblioteca/estudi. Com que mons pares sempre havien fet coses a casa – armaris, prestatges, etc. – com molts anglesos, vam pensar que ho faríem natros en comptes d’encarregar-ho a un professional com feia tothom que coneixem a Tortosa. Vam planificar-ho molt bé per aprofitar al màxim l’espai, calculant alçades per a posar llibres grans, mitjans, petits (unes files a la mida dels Penguins britànics) etc. Vam fer càlculs i vam comprar planxes de fusta a un fuster local.  Els vam envernissar. Les eines (trepant, serres etc.) ja les teníem. Vam deixar espai per al piano. Vam aprofitar l’espai dalt de la porta i vam arribar al sostre arreu. Davant la finestra, una taula de segona mà i uns calaixos. I va quedar així (molt millor en la realitat que aquests fotos dolentes!).

>Books at home. About 20 years ago once we realized how many books we were accumulating in such a small house, we decided to convert a small barely-used 250cm x 250cm room into a library/study. Bought some planks from a local woodyard, varnished them and cut them to size following a carefully drawn-up plan to make the most of the wall space – shelves for all sizes of books, even shelves specially for Penguins. All the way up to the (low) ceiling, and even above the door. These are some poor photos of the result.

Els llibres al costat i dalt de la porta d'aquesta sala petit.

>Around and above the door of this small room.

A la esquerra de la porta, fins la finestra (llibres i CDs).

>To the left of the door, along to the window (books and CDs)

A la dreta de la porta. L’espai amb prestatges de color gris era per al piano que ara s’ha mogut a un altre lloc i hem fet aquestes lleixes amb unes fustes que vam trobar al costat d’un contenidor. Netejats i pintats, i voilà. En total, deu haver uns 1800 llibres aquí dins aquesta sala.

>To the right of the door. The low grey shelves were made later using some wood and old furniture we found dumped and now take up the space we originally left for a piano – which has now moved. I reckon there’s about 1800 books in here.

Però, aviat vam fer curt d’espai i així poc a poc per tota la casa han anat apareixent llibres en tots els petits espais lliures que hem trobat. Dos estanteries al menjador.

>Soon ran out of room so we have been shoving small bookshelves wherever there’s a gap – behind doors, in a corner... These two are in the líving room.

Com que és una caseta de camp d’una única planta i l’hem ampliat quan hem pogut, hi ha un bon passadís per arribar als dormitoris. Perfecte per posar més prestatges (la majoria d’aquell estil barat que compres als supers, Leroys, o de segona mà etc. i les muntes a casa). Per classificar una mica, aquí hem concentrat els llibres infantils, juvenils, i tema novel·la gràfica. Gens fàcil fer fotos aquí.

>Since it’s a small old one-floor house we’ve extended as and when we could, we have ended up with this corridor leading down to the bedrooms. Ideal for more cheap put-together-yourself or second hand shelves. Here we’ve tried to concentrate all our children’s /teenagers’ books, graphic novels, còmics... Not easy to take photos in a narrow corridor.

Finalment, pel laberint que hem acabat fent a casa, ha quedat un espai estrany al mig (entra la part original i la part nova). Aquí hem posat el piano i, sorpresa, més prestatges.

>Finally, when we extended the house we ended up with this strange area between the new and old part. It’s where the piano now lives and is currently being filled with books too.

Uns alumnes em van preguntar, quants llibres tens? Pos, amb una mirada molt aproximat, crec que deuen haver uns 2600.  Dividits en: 600 juvenils, infantils. 200 no-ficció. 200 poesia i teatre. 1600 ficció. Per llengua: aproximadament deuen ser 50% en català, 45% en anglès, i 5% en altres llengües.

>How many? A very rough count/guess would be about 2600 books. Split into: 600 kids’/teens’. 200 non-fiction. 200 poetry and theatre. 1600 novels. Language-wise, something like 50% Catalan, 45% English, 5% other languages.

Els has llegit tots, Brian? Primer, no tots son llibres que vull llegir jo sinó que son d’altres habitants de la casa. Però entre els que vull/volia llegir, diria que he llegit almenys tres quartes parts. Hi ha alguns que vaig comprar sense pensar gaire, només per completar col·leccions d’autors quan vaig descobrir botigues de segona mà i una beca universitari i hi han estat coberts de pols durant 30 anys. Però dels que no he llegit i realment voldria llegir ara, potser “només” hi ha un centenar. Hora de comprar més!!

>And have you read them all? Probably about three quarters. Also, many were chosen by other members of the household, and some of my purchases were bought dècades ago on a whim when I discovered the wonders of second hand shops and university grants but no longer have any interest for me... so, I’d say, there are probably only about a hundred unread ones which I really want to read. Time to buy some more!

Algunes llibreries de York / A few bookshops of York

 

[English version below]  Fa un parell de setmanes vaig passar un dia a York, una ciutat històric al nord d’Anglaterra. Com que el meu poble natal no és gaire lluny de York, hi he anat molts cops en la vida; amb els pares, amics, parella, fills, i aquest cop tot sol. A York hi ha moltes coses per a visitar segons el gust del consumidor (turista). Si t’agrada la historia, hi ha un munt de fato (edificis, tombes, museus, activitats...) de diferents èpoques de la ciutat. Han deixat la seva petjada els romans, els vikings, i els normands entre altres, i també hi ha molts carrers, edificis i altres racons medievals també molt ben conservats. Hi ha espais històrics preparats per a portar la canalla, i altres llocs més ‘seriosos’. 

També hi ha uns parcs xulos i un riu. I la famosa i impactant catedral (allà li diuen ‘Minster’ però no en sé la diferència!). Els carrers cèntrics estrets plens de curiositats, botigues interessants i tea-rooms. Un mercat al bell mig de la ciutat. Una galeria d’art preciosa i fascinant. Un museu de trens que deixa a tota la família amb la boca oberta. També, moltes referències i llocs connectats a la gent coneguda que té relació amb York, des de l’Emperador Constantí de Roma, fins a Anne Lister (Gentleman Jack), passant per Guy Fawkes i molts altres. En fi, jo de vatros aniria directament a York, més que a Londres i altres pobles del sud on t’estafaran amb el preu d’una cervesa.

Però aquest cop, havent vist tot l’anterior mil cops, i anant sol per primera vegada, vaig decidir fer una ruta per un bon grapat de llibreries ja que York en té moltes d’una varietat d’estils i continguts. I ara he pensat que podria deixar-vos els apunts per si de cas també feu turisme-de-llibreries... Aquí va un resum de les deu que vaig poder veure aquell dia (i d'on vaig tornar a casa amb la motxilla plena de paraules!).

     ·        The Minster Gate Bookshop (Carrer: Minster Gates,8 – a l’ombra de la catedral!). Una bogeria de botiga de llibres de segona mà; algunes super-ofertes, altres antiguitats col·leccionables. Hi ha 5 o 6 plantes (inc. soterrani) però cap és prou gran per a fer girar un gat agafat de la cua (frase típica anglesa). En serio, no hi aneu amb motxilles grans o a l’hora punta, ja que son sales super-petites però plenes de sorpreses. Fins i tot les escales van plenes de llibres. Cada planta està enfocada sobre un tema diferent, i el soterrani està ple d’ofertes.

     ·        The Little Apple Bookshop (Carrer: High Petergate, 13). Tampoc és molt gran però té una selecció exquisida de llibres (nous). O sigui, no busqueu simplement els ‘bestsellers’ de torn sinó novel·les i poesia de tot el món, amb edicions molt ben presentats. També hi ha molts altres detalls com llibretes, bosses, pins, etc. per a regalar.

      ·        The Blue House Bookshop (Carrer: Bootham, 10) Una llibreria preciosa fonamentalment dedicada a llibres infantils i juvenils, però amb una mica de tot incloent llibres per a grans (recordant que gent adulta també pot, i hauria de, llegir literatura infantil). També, tot molt ben triat i presentat en un espai esplèndid. També organitzen moltes activitats per a xiquets, i grans – de fet aquest any és, potser, la primera llibreria a Yorkshire que organitza una jornada de ‘llibres, roses i diversió’ inspirada en la tradició catalana del Diada de Sant Jordi.

      ·        Oxfam Bookshop (Carrer: Low Petergate). Aparentment hi ha una llibreria Oxfam encara més gran al carrer Micklegate però jo vaig anar a aquesta que és molt cèntric. Tenen una selecció molt gran de llibres de segona mà, plena de joies, i altres objectes, que venen per a l’ONG Oxfam.

     ·    The Portal Bookshop (Carrer: Patrick Pool, 5). Una llibreria petita però ‘gran’ en majúscules. Dedicat a llibres amb un enfocament LGBTQ+, la botiga té una bona tria de novel·les, assaig, poesia, i novel·les gràfiques, a més a més de pins, bosses etc., i un ambient molt bo.

      ·        Travelling Man (Carrer: Goodramgate, 74) especialitzada en novel·les gràfiques i còmics i altres objectes relacionat amb el món ‘friki’. Un bon lloc per a passar temps i deixar diners!

      ·        Altres botigues de segona mà, també al carrer Goodramgate. Tirant pel carrer uns metres cap al nord (sense sortir dels murs de la ciutat) em vaig topar amb dos ‘charity shops’ més que també tenien molts de llibres per a remenar.

    ·        Criminally Good Books (Carrer: Colliergate, 14). Llibreria especialitzada en llibres de crims i misteris.

     ·        Si encara no heu trobat el llibre que busqueu, sempre podeu fer cap a Waterstones al carrer Coney Street. És una cadena molt gran que no necessita la meva publicitat, i per això l’he deixat pel final, però realment és un paradís per a entrar-hi i passar hores. Una cadena de llibreries feta i portada per gent que estima els llibres.

Em diuen per l’auricular que hi ha més llibreries que no he visitat.  Doncs, a la propera ampliarem la llista!

.....

A rough, shorter translation of the above guide to a few York bookshops...

A couple of weeks ago, I visited York for something like the millionth time. Having lived in South Yorkshire until I left England for sunnier climes, but still having friends and family in the area, I’ve visited York many times over the years – with parents, friends, kids, and this time on my tod. A wonderful place full of things to see and do whatever your interests or age. Romans, Vikings, and Normans have all left their mark on the town, as well as historical figures from Constantine to Anne Lister – and plenty of places to visit and learn about them. A must is to wander the old (Medieval?) narrow streets in the centre full of history, hidden surprises, and fascinating little shops and tearooms. Then there’s the Minster of course, and parks to relax in, the river, the art gallery, the railway museum... the list goes on. A great place to visit and, of course, up North you won’t get fleeced for the price of a beer like the tourists heading for London.

Having visited all the above already, though, and spending a few hours on my own this time, I thought I’d try and check out as many bookshops as I could this time – a hobby best done alone unless your companion has an infinite level of patience (and a big bag to carry your purchases). And here’s a list of the ten I found in case any other booklovers are thinking of trying York out. There are more bookshops, of course, but they’ll have to wait for another trip, and another pay day. Here goes.

     ·        The Minster Gate Bookshop (Minster Gates,8 – a stone’s throw from the Minster!). An amazing shop full to the rafters with second-hand books, incredible bargains, antiques, collectors’ items... There’s five or six floors of books but each floor is barely big enough to swing a book-loving cat around in. Best not to go with a rucksack or on a busy day – even the stairs are packed full of books! Check out the basement for great special offers.

     ·        The Little Apple Bookshop (High Petergate, 13). Not a particularly big shop either but who needs size as long as they have a beautiful and exquisite selection of carefully-chosen books like this. Not the place to find this week’s bestsellers, but more for those lesser known national and International books, fiction, non-fiction, poetry... they also have a great selection of badges, bookmarks, bags, and other suitable gifts (to treat yourself!).

    ·        The Blue House Bookshop (Bootham, 10). A magical bookshop basically focused on children’s books but with some for grown-ups too (remembering that grown-ups can, and should, also read “children’s” books). An amazing inviting space which also organizes many events and activities for children – and this year (on 19 April) it may well be the first bookshop in Yorkshire to ever organize a ‘books, roses and bags of fun’ event inspired by the Catalan tradition of celebrating Sant Jordi (Saint George)!

      ·        Oxfam Bookshop (Low Petergate). Google tells me there’s a bigger Oxfam shop on the other side of the river, but this one is bang in the centre of York. As with most Oxfam bookshops, a wonderful place to browse and buy second-hand books for a good cause.

      ·        The Portal Bookshop (Patrick Pool, 5). A small yet ‘grand’ bookshop. Devoted to LGBTQ+ issues, it offers a magnificent selection of books, poetry, graphic novels and so on, as well as other gifts like pin badges and bags, all in a beautiful atmosphere of good vibes.

     ·        Travelling Man (Goodramgate, 74) specializes in graphic novels, comics, games and other related items. A great place to spend plenty of time, and money.

     ·        Walking a bit further up Goodramgate towards the city walls, I came across another couple of charity shops (can’t remember their names) with plenty of books to dig through too!

      ·        Criminally Good Books (Colliergate, 14) specializes in (true) crime and mystery books if that’s your cup of tea!

      ·        And if you still haven’t found your book or spent up, there is a splendid Waterstones on Coney Street.

Good luck!