The other day, when I was down at the Santa Catarina Market, I started talking to a butcher who had overheard me explaining my project on terroir and Catalan nationalism to one of the ladies working at the stand. She had just given me some llonganissa d’Organyà as well as some really good chorizo made from ibèric when the butcher thrust his head between the hanging sausages and salamis and asked me matter-of-factly, “You want to know where Catalan nationalism is?” “Where?” I responded, pretty much knowing where this was leading. "It's in the blood!" he yelled, his face turning red. "Blood! Blood!" he continued, and then, drawing his thumb across his throat he became even more precise: "It's in our blood because we have continually had our throats cut by others." With that he turned away, the rauxa gone and the seny once more in control... "Number 73! Next!"
No comments:
Post a Comment