When
you move to a foreign country as a full-blown adult, as I did, there
are a lot of things that run through your mind in the weeks beforehand. I
suppose any time you do something that involves serious change, your
brain sort of throws up roadblocks … subconscious anxiety that varies in
legitimacy. I definitely was not deterred by these inner voices, but I
can’t deny they existed. However, as much as I may have obsessed, I
never gave even one thought to something that later proved as much a
cultural shift as anything … The holidays.
So obviously Thanksgiving in Spain is a non-starter. This
wasn’t such a big deal to me, as it turns out. Not exactly a football
fan (though I have since developed a fondness for the Barcelona futbol
team, but that’s another story entirely…); not precisely a big fan of
turkey either; and certainly not a fan of the genocide of millions of
indigenous people, which Thanksgiving kinda sorta celebrates in a
roundabout way. My partner Joan and I have adopted a Thanksgiving policy
of caipirinhas and fajitas at my favorite Mexican spot in Barcelona,
and I’m pretty content with that, plus a little family Skype time where I
can eye the stuffing and apple pie.
Now Christmas … that’s a whole other ball of wax. Obviously
they celebrate Christmas here in Spain. And many of the traditions are
similar, if not exactly the same. For example, Santa and the three wise
men sail into Barcelona on a schooner in early December…no Rudolph in
sight. But there’s gift-giving, lots of amazing light displays, nativity
scenes … Hmm. Well. Okay. So here’s one thing about the nativity
scenes in Catalonia. There’s someone shitting in each one. Yep.
Shitting. Traditionally, a shepherd. This figure is called a Caganer … a
shitter, obv. So yea … dig it … there’s little baby Jesus, Mary and
Joseph, the three Wise Men, some assorted farm animals … and a shepherd
with his pants down above a little pile of poo. The explanation for
this seems to be a cultural shrug … I still haven’t heard a reason that
amounts to much more than…poo is funny. And maybe something to do with
fertility? It all sounds like a stretch. But the weirdness of this pales
in comparison to the … wait for it … Shitting Log … the Tio de Nadal.
Again, defecation is tied to a yuletide tradition. There is at least an
explanation for this one … sort of.
Apparently peasant families of the Pyrenees came up with
the idea of making a log a central figure in their Christmas
celebration. You would wrap the log up in a blanket and feed it and sing
to it and tell it your Christmas wishes in the days leading up to
Christmas (from December 8th to the 24th.)
Sweet, right? Ummm … yea … until the kids go all Lord of the Flies on
the 24th and sing a song asking for cheese and candy and treats and BEAT
IT WITH STICKS DEMANDING IT SHIT THOSE THINGS OUT. Then, under the
blanket … voila. Candy and treats. Then there is something about a
stinking herring signalling the end of the fun … and then they BURN THE
LOG. In summary … Spain and the States have some pretty serious cultural
differences when it comes to the holidays. Also, traditions that aren’t
familiar can seem utterly insane from an outside perspective.
In all seriousness though, I love Christmas in Barcelona …
however, my favorite aspect might be the week afterwards … a week where I
traditionally run off somewhere warm with my partner. I wear my
Respokes year-round
… they are Spanish espadrilles after all … but I never doubt that the
soles belong most on the warm sand of tropical climes.
So … where will you be dreaming of wearing your
Respokes this Christmas? Inquiring logs want to know.
