Catalan Nationalism According to a Butcher...

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!"

Diada Nacional

Yesterday was Catalonia's national day. It's a holiday that commemorates the fall of Barcelona to the Bourbons on 11 September, 1714 as part of the War of Spanish Succession. People congregate downtown for official ceremonies, hang the nationalist banner from their balconies and then gather for a march at the Plaça d'Urquinaona. That's where I headed and it was quite a good time. There was some rowdiness early on, with drummers and socialist provocateurs selling their wares (I got some cool pins to give to people) but then it calmed down. Lots of families showed up and cute earnest hippy girls with their faces painted seemed to be everywhere. I threw on a bandana with the estelada on it and took pictures while the speeches went on...and on...and on...

Eventually, a giant flag was unfurled behind a flat-bed truck that served as a stage. As the vehicle headed east on Trafalgar street, people marched behind it slowly. For my part, I peeled north into the Eixample; it was simply too hot to keep standing out in the sun. Popping into one of the few establishments that was open, I sat at the bar, ordered a granissat de llimona, and watched people saunter by on the sidewalk...