Thursday, October 22, 2009

I dropped my old friend off at Porto airport this morning and then meandered back to Pontevedra via the lovely north Portuguese countryside, trying to follow the Way of St James I’ll be walking with more old friends next May. I got lost in Ponte de Lima, which is ironic as I know the delightful place quite well. My excuse is there were no signs for the old road to Valenca. At least not until you’ve actually left the town. Anyway, I was helped out by a couple of policemen from the National Brigade, who’d seen me parked at the roadside, scrutinising an inadequate map. In their leather bomber jackets and jackboots, they looked rather intimidating but, as ever, they were kindness itself. And, as is usually the case in Portugal, they spoke to me in English, presumably being unimpressed with my Gallego. Very impressive. Now, there's a country without language strife.

A Spanish vignette from last night . . . As we were walking into town, there was a car trapped next to the kerb by a double-parked second car. As ever, the hazard lights of the latter were flashing, indicating it wasn’t really there and that the owner was somewhere in the vicinity. Nothing happened the first time the driver blew his horn. Nor the second time. By the third time he got to sounding off, a good five minutes or more had passed and the blasts of the horn were rather longer. But no one was emerging from any of the cafés or shops. And then someone poked his head out of the window of a first-floor office, where he was at a desk, talking on the phone. A minute or so later, he was down in the street moving his car a few metres, to block in someone else. As ever, no words were exchanged and no gesture of apology made. Así son las cosas in Spain.

Finally . . . If any of you’ve had the dubious pleasure of reading the latest comments from my friend Cade, you’ll probably be as fascinated as I am by the possibility he thinks he can convert anyone to his views. Or, alternatively, the possibility that he knows he has no chance of doing so but, being in the UK and unemployed, merely has a massive amount of time and energy to waste. I thought of him this evening when reading this (Gallego) article on how the association of Gallego with Galician nationalism is doing no good for either of them. I wonder how the writer would view the association of Cade with both. Surely not sanguinely. Perhaps I should alert him.

Cade, of course, reminds one of the dictum that nationalists define themselves by the people they hate. For him, if you’re not his particular breed of Galician nationalist, you’re a fascist ‘Spanish nationalist’. What a simple Manichean world he inhabits. I almost envy him.

7 comments:

Cade said...

Mr Davies, remember: nothing about my private life is of interest in this space. Nothing. My private life is beyond the point. Yours, on the other hand, is not, since you are so kind in letting us know about it, perhaps in an unnecessary detail. But that is your choice.

Anyway, let’s go to our business: you write today: “the association of Gallego with Galician nationalism is doing no good for either of them”.

So, do you agree with that? And if so, what kind of association is good for either / both of them? Would Spanish nationalism help “gallego”, or at least not damage it as much? What is your advise for “gallego”, Mr Davies, since you seem to care so much?

Do you have any opinion on this respect? Did you read that article? Do you agree with it? Did you understand it? Do you agree with the readers views (more than 100 comments, with a lot of debate and different views, by now)?

Mr Davies, if you want me to prove you are a Spanish nationalist sympathiser, you have to give your opinion when inquired, otherwise, it is only assumptions. I’m pretty sure about them, but so far, I haven’t proved them.

Take your time. But remember: you can’t dodge the issue now!

Cheerio!!

leaky bucket said...

hey cade there is nothing of interest in any part of your life private or otherwise!

Colin said...

Cade,

For the very last time . . .

One of the many things you don't seem to understand well (now including the sting of One Hung Low), is that I can do exactly what I like. I do not have to do anything that you want me to do, regardless of whether it causes you apoplexy or not.

Equally, you are free to paint me however you like. I'm more than happy to leave it to my readers to decide where the truth lies.

So carry on. But be warned, I'm getting increasingly bored by your drivel (not 'dribble' by the way) and one day soon I am going to exercise one of my rights and start barring your inane invective.

Cade said...

Yeah, there you go again, Mr Davies. You have nothing to say, nothing to prove, we know that. You carry on painting your own picture of Galician nationalists, and I will keep on explaining here in detail what are the chemicals (mainly drivel, not dribble) and the vulgar tools you use in your sad picture.

I know that you can't answer most of the questions that I put to you, simply becaise you haven't got the foggiest, or you don't even have an opinion, beyond trite and widespread prejudices, shared by most of your readership.

Or perhaps you know, or you have an opinion, but refuse to answer. That'd be quite arrogant, very much in your line.

But most probably your silence is because your arguments don't stand a chance in any racional debate. You throw the stone and then run away. If only you were a boy ...

Colin said...

I don't respond to you, Cade, for the simple reason that I'm old enough to have learned that with people like you there is no prospect of sensible debate.

Here is the comment from one of my associates on the article I cited. My guess is that you would firmly be among the shit. And that do not number among the 3 or 4 sane contributions.

No, I have not read the comments. As if I would have any interest in reading more of the kind of juvenile stuff you write.

Please don't waste more of your time writing again. From here on, I'm just going to delete your comments, without even reading them.

Despois de botarlle un ollo ós comentarios que aparecen na entrevista a Monteagudo en Vieiros, gustaríame saber se alguén comparte a miña opinión de que Vieiros é unha das maiores cloacas de Galicia.

Definicións de cloaca no dicionario de Ir Indo:

1 CONSTR Conduto subterráneo para recoller as augas pluviais ou fecais das rúas e dos edificios dunha poboación e conducilas á rede xeral de saneamento ou, nos lugares sen urbanizar, a unha fosa séptica.

2 CONSTR Depósito que recolle as augas e os residuos fecais dunha poboación.

3 fig Lugar sucio que provoca noxo.

2 s f ZOOL Orificio onde desembocan o recto e os condutos urinarios e xenitais, especialmente nos anfibios, réptiles, aves e mamíferos monotremas.

No meu xuízo, válelle calquera das catro acepcións.

Says it all really.

wun hung lo said...

Confucious say "Man who have only one string on violin only know one song."
Mr Cade gentleman you play same song every day - very boring.

Cade said...

You are just an arrogant old twat, Mr Davies. Apart from a pathetic ignorant incapable of debating anything Galician, because to start with you hardly know anything. You are free to ridicule Galician nationalists, or Scottish nationalist or whoever, but when faced with arguments you just run away like a baby to hide. If you had a minimum of decency and gentlemanship you would have engaged in a racional debate, but you are too much of an arrogant old rag who has already made up his poor little mind and goes around offending peoples’ identities and being cocky about it.

You are a worhtless pathetic old man, and I spent too much time already with you.

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