Protestors, Pillow Fights and the Police

Extreme Pillow Fighting!

Did you know it was national pillow fighting day last Sunday? Neither did I. That is until I wandered up  towards Plaza Catalunya at about half past seven thinking to myself how wonderful it would be if somebody had written a blog post about the location perfectly balancing the witty and informative to ensure that the reader, while never lost, was always smiling.

Oh, I remembered with what some might see as a ludicrously false grin. Somebody already has. You can find it here

However, I was distracted by this brief happy epiphany by the sight of a lagre group of Mossos (Barcelona's Riot Police) standing in one of the nearby streets. Now the spotting of large groups of Mossos can mean only one of two things. It's either a) Trouble with a capital T or b) Barcelona is hosting this years World Championship of Extreme Angled Beret Wearing. And, as all fans of beret wearing know, that competition is to be held in Beijing this year (China having recently discovered the beret and already made great strides in international competition – despite critics have pointing out that a number of these fast-improving Chinese beret wearers have tested positive for using anabolic strings of onions).

So trouble it was.

Astute readers will have noticed the BigBarcelonaBlog is partial to the odd bit of Rock 'n' Roll and so it will come as no surprise that his response to trouble was to go looking for it. Had he come to the right place?

All the signs were there. There were numerous Mossos riot vans in every sidestreet and the Guardia Civil were in the Plaza itself. The Guardia Civil are the police too but they aren't as dangerous as the Mossos – this is demonstrated by the far more responsible angles at which they wear their berets.

The BigBarcelonaBlog couldn't wait to see what had happened. Had the Indignados returned? Was the city once more to be rocked by the  idealistic fervour of 15-M?

Er. No.

There were twenty kids joyfully hitting each other with pillows. The BigBarcelonaBlog was mystified.   Even Britain, despite enduring more than a decade under the scarily authoritarian boot of New Labour has, so far as I know, not outlawed pillow fighting. On the opposite side of the world it's a similar story -the Taliban, despite banning chess, music and female education and health, have so far yet to get around to prohibiting the pillow fight (it is a little known fact that Mullah Omar defeated Osama Bin Laden when they went goosedown to goosedown during a half time break at the Kandahar football stadium back in 1999).

 N.B. Any Americans reading this please substitue soccer for football. Any American CIA operatives reading this please substitute “I am making this up” for “this is valuable intelligence I should pass on to my superiors”. There is absolutely no need to extraordinarily render me to Guantanamo again. I learned my lesson after the whole Abu Hamza relaxes by entering North London subbuteo tournaments debacle. I mean I'd have thought it was obvious. But nineteenth months in an orange jump suit taught me never to take Langley's sense of humour for granted. 

  

This is a bit more like unextreme pillow holding

Anyway, back to Plaza Catalunya and the tense Mossos/Soft Cushion stand off. At least that's what I  thought it was. Then I realised I'd made a mistake.

The Mossos were not there for the pillow fighters. Standing close to the these doughty down wielders was another group. This group were forlorner than our feather flinging friends. I had initially assumed this was because they had already fought and lost and the feathery residue of their weapons now lay on ground like so many fallen snowflakes.

Fallen Snowflakes. Who says I can't do images? I mean apart from most poets

 

But no! On closer inspection they turned out not to be well plumped warriors at all but instead to be protestors. I suppose I should have guessed this because they were stationary and as we know from this post all Spanish protesters have one thing in common. They never move. Even the marchers. Actually, especially the marchers.

Anyway this was a rather sad and small group of protestors and they were being addressed by a man with a surprisingly quiet megaphone – a minorphone, if you will. The use of any kind of phone wasn't strictly necessary as all the people were quite close enough to hear his normal speaking voice but I suppose when you've gone to all the trouble of bringing it, it feels kind of a waste not to crank it up to get that irresistable British Rail Tannoy announcement vibe going. Whilst adding undeniable authenticity the minorphone did have the drawback of rendering me utterly unable to decipher what the protest was about and therefore give it extended publicity by mentioning it here. It's a problem left wing groups worldwide have run against over the years and frankly the BigBarcelonaBlog despairs. We're never going to bring about global change, comrades, with muffled slogans.

“What do we want?”

“Bwwoooorrrrreeee”

“When do want it?”

“Bwwooooorrreee.”

Bwwooorrrrreeee!

So his fellow protestors were glumly not hearing him while all around them kids were clonking each other with pillows and  all around them was a watching cohort of riot police. I wondered about if the protesters, unexpectedly, decided to join the pillow combat the authorities would intervene as this would constitute  direct political pillow action which would threaten to undermine the structures of the state as opposed to normal pillow fighting which would just undermine the structure of the pillow. But despite my fervent wishing  the protestors refused to oblige me.

So I guess I'll never know. And now thanks to this post neither will you. So you may be wondering why I posted this. Well, you see I've been filling this blog  with long helpful information and in my last post I thought I'd experiment with some short helpful information. But that didn't work out so well...see here . So I thought I'd try some long unhelpful information instead. If you try new things people you don't get anywhere as someone famous once said. Come to think of it – it might have been Icarus.

I'm melting!  

Learn Spanish The BigBarcelonaBlog Way : Ser and Estar

“To be or not to be!”

Thus did William Shakespeare, the greatest writer the world has ever produced, sum up the weightiest dilemma facing mankind. It is succinct. It is powerful. It is unforgettable. In English, that is. In Spanish it sounds more like this:

“Ser o no ser o estar o no estar o una mezcla de ser y estar y una mezcla de no ser y no estar. Más o Menos.”

Doesn’t grab you quite as effectively, I think we can all agree. I mean an English Hamlet’s indecisive enough (yes I know he’s technically Danish, clever clogs) but a Spanish Hamlet is all over the place.

So what is going on here? Is it another futile attempt by the Spanish to pretend that Cervantes (one book about a man fighting windmills) is as great an artist as Shakespeare (39 plays about everything that ever has or will really matter) by deliberately sabotaging the Swan of Avon’s finest hour? Well, I like a conspiracy theory as much as the next man (unless the next man is lurking behind a grassy knoll with a firearm) but even I have to conclude that’s not the case here.

No, it is something far crazier. The Spanish have two words for “To Be”

Let us conjugate them in all their glory (present tense only):

Ser                                Estar

(Yo)            Soy                               Estoy

(Tu)            Eres                              Estás

(El)             Es                                 Está

(Nosotros) Somos                          Estamos

(Vosotros) Sois                              Estáis

(Ellos)        Son                               Están

So far, so not that bad. But now we come to when you use them. And things get properly out of control.

How do you know which verb you should use if you wanted to say something as simple as:

I am happy. (Admittedly not a sentiment Hamlet was often reaching for.)

It depends.

Spanish teachers (and the BigBarcelonaBlog has had more than most) will insist to you that there is some kind of sense behind which one of the verbs you choose. I should caution you immediately that this is nonsense. Any Spanish teacher who tells you there is any rhyme or reason behind the selection of “ser” or “estar” should be treated as a charlatan and if possible immediately dispatched to a nunnery.

What they will say is this – it all depends on whether the verb “to be” is being used in a permanent sense (in which case you should use “ser”) or a temporary sense (in which case you should use “estar”).

So with the aforementioned concept : I am happy.

You should say : Soy Feliz, if…

 By and large you are a happy, optimistic person who sees every glass as half full even when there isn’t any water in it.

You should say : Estoy Contento if…

You are just in a good mood, say, for example, if a couple of university friends have arrived to visit you from Wittenburg. This is likely to be a temporary sensation especially when it turns out that they’re actually spying on you on behalf of your evil uncle who killed your dad and married your mum and is still coming on like he wants to be your mate . Sorry for the spoiler if you’ve never read Hamlet.

Now, come on, BigBarcelonaBlog, I hear you cry. That doesn’t sound so bad. I can distinguish between permanent and temporary states. We can do this.

You fools! You’ve let those devious Spanish teachers pour their linguistic poison into your ear. You see once they’ve got you nodding at the easy bit they then try and slip all the contradictions past you. Like:

Death.

Now, unless you’re Jesus, death is a fairly permanent state. I mean I’d go so far as to say it is pretty much the most permanent state. So if, for example, I was to pick up a skull and glumly observe :

Yorick is dead.

Admittedly it lacks the ring of the original but more importantly which verb should you use?

You say Ser? Think again. It’s Estar. Why? Now you’ll see your Spanish teacher start shrugging and saying it’s time for la pausa (the break). There’s no explanation.

How about the time?

What could be more temporary than time. It is one o’clock. Previously it was twelve o’clock. Soon it will be two o’clock. So estar, right?

Wrong. It’s ser. Es la una to be precise.

I promise you I once had an evil Spanish teacher who argued that it should be “ser” because it was permanently one o’clock for the actual moment it was one o’clock. Pick the logic out of that one.

And now places. What could be more permanent than a place? Elsinore is in Denmark. It has always been in Denmark and it always will be in Denmark.

So if you were to say “Elsinore is in Denmark” which verb?

Wrong. It’s estar. Because arbitrarily all locations use estar and this trumps all concepts of permanence and transience. Why? Nobody knows.

On a side note, I should point out that I’m most relieved I picked Hamlet to illustrate this post.  If I’d gone for Macbeth, Burnham Wood would be giving me no end of trouble right about now.

Anyway as I was saying all locations use estar. Except of course when they don’t. Try this one for size.

You enter your new Spanish language school. You approach the receptionist and confidently ask for the whereabouts of Doctor Cervantes A1 class.

“¿Donde está la clase de Doctor Cervantes?” you say.

The receptionist’s face registers disapproval. What can possibly have gone wrong?

  

You should have used the verb “ser”.

Why? Because Doctor Cervantes class is a group of people gathered together to learn and not an actual location. It is in a location but it isn’t one, if you see what I mean. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

And then when your Spanish teacher has completed her explanation and is acting as though everything should be clear she will top it all off by giving you a cruel smile and saying,

“¿Está bien?”

   Now you’re on your own.