Barcelona: Feliz Navidad

The wonderful world of Dan Juan
December 20, 2001

Feliz Navidad y buen ano neuvo

Crap Catalan Christmas Curosities #1

Get this: The Catalans have a big Christmas log with a smiley face on and a big red Christmas hat. In the build up to Christmas the ickle children feed the log with sweeties. On Christmas Eve the kids come up to it and sing "Mr Shit log, Mr Shit log, almonds and nougat, if you dont shit well we´re going to beat you with a big stick". They then proceed to hit it with a big stick. The presents are hidden under a rug out the back end of the log and the kiddies put in the little grubby hands and pull out the presents. If you have been bad you get coal. How do you go about getting a tradition like this?

Crap Catalan Christmas Curosities #2

They have the usual Catholic Nativity scene in all the shops and offices around the province. The height of comedy in these parts is to put a little man descretely in the corner of the deeply religious setting with his pants round his ankles squeezing out his own ´Christmas log´, as it were. He is known as the ´little caca man´. You can´t make it up.

Catalan fact 1: They are known for their toilet humour.
Catalan fact 2: They are also regarded by the rest of Spain as not being very funny.

I was paid today in Euros. I am now very much against the European currency as its way to complicated to convert in your head and somehow everything seems to be more expensive. What Ian Duncan Smith says seems to make more sense to me know. It was a funny feeling someone giving me cash rather than it being the other way round. Five months of bone idleness has come to a bitter end and I´m now only semi-idle. I´m working all of seven hours a week now, though last week I really pushed the boat out and worked 8.5 hours. Not enough to keep me in the style to which I´ve become accustomed but I´ve spent all my Gran´s money and that´s the last of the grandparents over with.

I have a flat too. As ever I do all my best work in the pub and a conversation with an English bloke whilst we were laughing at Fabien Barthez put me on to a nice, cheap, smallish room in a great part of town in a flat with two English girls. As is the style of spanish architects, they can´t be bothered putting in any central heating into their flats so I´m a little bit cold. Barcelona is currently experiencing its coldest spell for 20 years. Bugger me, I´m sure it said on the holiday brochure that Barcelona was 30 degrees all year round and that I only needed to pack sporty trunks and a knotted handkerchief.

Fun stuff has been fun though. Had Carl, Jon and Buzz out for a weekend and spent the time eating, drinking and talking to old men in restaurants about Argnetinian football who started crying with the nostalgia of it all. Bless. His long suffering wife said nothing and raised her eyebrows to the ceiling. Good job we had this conversation as he actually pointed out that the Barcelona match we were going to go to was actually in five hours time rather than the next day as I had planned. No matter, we zoomed off to Camp Nou and watched Barcelona put in another pathetic performance, losing 2-1 to Athletico Bilbao. We were in the top of the stands right next to the 100 or so Bilbao supporters, which turned out to be quite a funny place to be sitting. Hopefully this bodes well for March 13 when Liverpool play Barcelona in the Champions League - Jon and I have now seen Barcelona twice at home and they´ve failed to win on both occassions.

I welcomed Alex out and immmediately put him to work moving mattresses and other stuff into my new flat, but he drew the line at coming to IKEA with me the next day. The next day my 15 year old cousin Louise came out and she stayed for four nights. We went dancing until five in the morning one night just to see if an old person like me could stand the pace. I did remarkable well and didn´t fall asleep in the toilets.

Al came with fresh news of the Road, though he had to explain who half the people of the teamsheet were. My football career has taken a bit of a dive, basically we my team keeps getting beaten. Nothing to do with me mind. This weekend´s action was called off because the Catalans can´t stand the cold.

I´ve just been to get my haircut and the man started talking to me in Spanish which i kinda nodded along to and said yes yes yes alot. This prompted him to get all excited and rush across the room and get a book of bald people out of the closet and proceed to show me what he could do with Bobby Charlton style comb-overs. I think I may have got the wrong end of the stick. Perhaps some of you will have to check if I´ve gone bald when I get home. I was however mistaken for a 24 year old at the last party I went to.

Went to see Travis the other week, which was actually really brilliant. The overall impression was helped by the presence of lovely french girls who were sitting just in front of us at the concert. They have been adding a certain "je ne sais quoi" to our lives ever since, despite having a flat that´s even colder than mine and punching me whenever I get things wrong in Spanish. This has helped my language skills no end.

As ever there has been a comedy adventure along the way. All the gear from my Dad´s blown up car (see "and the story continues" part 2) is sitting in a garage in a picturesque town in the middle of nowhere. Chris and I set off in his car to track the stuff down coz we both had a day off. Anyway after 2 and a bit hours and a few wrong turns we get to the town, only to discover of course that the reason we have a day off is because its a public holiday and the garage is a shut as a very shut thing and we´ve made a completely wasted trip. As we pull out of the town to head home, Chris car starts to overheat and we pull over to add some oil to the engine. Bad idea, the thing fails to start and we are stuck in the Catalan / Bermuda triangle´of cars. I, for one, refuse to panic, calm in a crisis as ever, and we wait for the engine to cool. Miraculously an RAC(C) van comes along and is about to resuce us from use of bad spanish when the bloody thing starts again. At least the danger of spending a night in the middle of nowhere was replaced by the embarrasment of belching out industrial amounts of smoke out the back of the car for the next hour or so. Returned home empty handed.

I fly today and have to tour the country for about two and half weeks. Some of you may be getting a visit, others may escape unharmed. Having spent the last three weeks in hibernation counting the days down I will be available for all parties, barmitzvas and wedding from December 20 to January 6. You will know me by the smug look on my face, slightly receding hairline (apparently) and inability to say anything in Spanish.

See you all soon, if I don´t, then count yourselves lucky

love

Dan