philosophy of life in Spain vs. America, as narrated by John Dos Passos

These are two small excerpts from one of the books I'm analyzing for my thesis work, "Rosinante to the Road Again." Apart from being amusing, I find the mentality surprisingly similar to things I've been told by Spaniards now, some 80-odd years later: "En América, se vive para trabajar; en España, se trabaja para vivir." (In America, one lives to work; in Spain, one works to live.)

excerpt one:
For a long while the arriero walked along in silence, watching his toes bury themselves in dust at each step. Then he burst out, spacing his words with conviction: "Ca, en América no se hase na' a que trabahar y de'cansar.... Not on your life, in America they don't do anything except work and rest so's to get ready to work again. That's no life for a man. People don't enjoy themselves there. An old sailor from Malaga who used to fish for sponges told me, and he knew. It's not gold people need, but bread and wine and ... life. They don't do anything there except work and rest so they'll be ready to work again...."

excerpt two:
The tough swaggering gesture, the quavering song well sung, the couplet neatly capped, the back turned to the charging bull, the mantilla draped with exquisite provocativeness; all that was lo flamenco. "On this coast, señor inglés, we don't work much, we are dirty and uninstructed, but by God we live. Why the poor people of the towns, d'you know what they do in summer? They hire a fig-tree and go and live under it with their dogs and their cats and their babies, and they eat the figs as they ripen and drink the cold water from the mountains, and man-alive they are happy. They fear no one and they are dependent on no one; when they are young they make love and sing to the guitar, and when they are old they tell stories and bring up their children. You have travelled much; I have travelled little--Madrid, never further,--but I swear to you that nowhere in the world are the women lovelier or is the land richer or the cookery more perfect than in this vega of Almuñecar.... If only the wine weren't quite so heavy...."
"Then you don't want to go to America?"

"¡Hombre por dios! Sing us a song, Paco.... He's a Galician, you see."

The goblin driver grinned and threw back his head.

mothers and children and friends and inbetweens

So there is this change of relationships between mothers and their children, and vice-versa. It starts out with the mother being all mother, the child being all child. There is nourishment, support, love, affection (in what should be normal cases, but perhaps should be labeled "ideal"). As the child grows there are times when the mother can become a friend, talk about things not just as a mother but a peer. But she will have to return to being a mother: disciplining, teaching, sometimes being appreciated, and sometimes, perhaps, even hated. The child is part of this imperfect balance, swaying it along from one side to the other, depending on the situation, maturity, needs, wants.

And gradually the relationship moves more and more toward friendship. The mother will still have those special maternal influences and aspects, and the child will still sometimes seek those, but more and more they will become companions. Intellectually more equal, though each have always and will always learn from the other. the mother will have less a teaching role, learning things from her child, and the child able to bring new things and ideas to the mother. But it is not always easy to know when to be part of which role. The mother sometimes being mother when she should be friend. Sometimes friend when she should be mother. The child sometimes being child when a friend is needed. Sometimes being a friend when it is better to be a child.

And after the more mutual stage has endured--perhaps the longest of the three--and the child has children, too, possibly, the mother will lose certain abilities and age and life will show their toll. The child now is turning into the mother, supporting, loving, caring for her. Instead of being taken from one place to another, getting fed... physical and emotional needs met by the mother, as was the case when birthed, the roles are completely reversed. The child is now caring for the mother, even to the most intimate of details, and simplest of things that can no longer be done independently.

And this is how one of the circles of life returns to meet its proverbial beginning, and continue on.




Happy 89th, Grandma.

mundial, work, play

And I finally took some lightpictures:

This is Tó, who I work with, fun guy. But for some reason was rooting for the Netherlands...so, obviously, we had to fight. ;)

This is the pretty sunset, seen from my bar/restaurant. :D

And these are my boys (María's kids) at the beach.

And this is someone being cooler than me.

estou em Portugal

Commence summer:

Last week I franctically packed up all my belongings of two years, got rid of several bags of clothes + other random stuff, sent a big suitcase (+other random stuff) with my flatmate to store at her house for the summer, and hopped myself on a bus, then plane, to Lisboa. Now I'm staying with my friend and her two kids in a lovely beachside village. Working long hour weekends in the fish restaurant on the beach. And on days off going to the beach (or lagoon--hello, wind surf!!)... and trying to motivate myself to work on my thesis as well... *sigh* It should be a fun two months...

pictures as soon as I take my camera with me somewhere...