Travelling with Americans

AOG, Madrid

Last weekend, after spending a few days with my partner, I flew from Barcelona back to Madrid. 

As I waited to board the plane, I noticed a man and his young son watching a soccer match between Germany and Greece on television. Because it was soccer, at first I thought that they were German. 

However, after a while, I overheard them speak and realised they were American. Yes, I was slightly shocked that somebody from the US would like soccer.

As luck would have it, they sat next to me on the plane, and we spent the entire flight, from take off to landing, talking about Europe and the US.

It was very interesting to hear him speak. After a few minutes he realised I was for Obama and never liked Bush, and I realised that he didn’t like President Obama at all and was very pro Bush.

We spoke, however, without acrimony, and listening to what the other had to say in a very amicable way. 

I was very surprised about what he said. It was like his views were taken from an alternative reality. From a parallel-universe America. 

“But President Obama is destroying our economy!”

“Of course we did nation-building in Iraq. Look at how grateful they all are.”

“How are American oil companies benefitting from the invasion of Iraq They have not received one dollar. How can you say that when ,today in the US, a gallon of gas is over $5.00?”

“We had to invade Afghanistan because they were harbouring and protecting Osama Bin Laden. What were we supposed to do?”

I don’t pretend to have all the answers, or even half the answers, but I was surprised that a man who grew up and lived in California was so misinformed. So one-sided. 

Here and there I would point out the general European view about America and its policies, both at home and abroad to the father.

“I have been reading the European media, and they only concentrate on the bad side, they never tell you about the good stuff in America”, he said at one point.

I have to say that the conversation was very challenging. His son, who was 15, had just spent an entire year studying Spanish in Salamanca, Spain’s Oxford. And his son loved soccer, so he loved soccer too.

I say this because this man was a nice person who loved his family and had worked hard to support it. 

I say this because he told me and his son so during the flight.

“How many birthdays did I miss? How many games?”

His son nodded in silence.

This man was now in semi-retirement but he must have been in his early to mid 50s. 

As the conversation went on, I tried to tell him about the other side of the spectrum when it came to some of the things he spoke about.

And I have to say that, to his credit, he went quiet very often and didn’t fly off the handle at any one point. 

Perhaps what I was telling him he had heard already, or maybe he is capable of independent thought and, when given new data, he processed it in silence. 

Or maybe he was ultra polite and thought I was just a stupid liberal living in Europe. 

His son, by contrast, did not really join in to defend his father's views. He would nod, however, whenever the European side was expressed. 

I don't know if he fully agreed with it, but, at least, he had been exposed to a different perspective for one year of his life. Unilateral views, for this boy, were no longer an option. 

I mentioned that, in the case of 9-11 and what happened in Afghanistan, perhaps invading an entire country to eventually kill one guy was not the best thing we could have done. That entire families had been killed by Western soldiers in the pursuit of one man. That I didn’t see the justification.

"But they, the Taliban, were harboring a terrorist!"

I mentioned that, as he had mentioned, the middle class in America was shrinking, and that this was very strange since, in the 1960s, when America was not as rich as it is today, the middle class was not shrinking, in fact, it had been growing steadily since WWII. 

That back then, and for many years afterwards, the world looked to America for guidance. But that was not the case today.

“So people hate us?”

“Some do, but then our foreign policy gives them little choice.”

“So what are we meant to do?”

“Not invade countries would be a good way to start.”

“So, are you saying invading Iraq was a mistake? Look at all the good we did.”

“We did good when, after WWII, we took up the cause of nation-building in Germany and Japan. But we didn’t do that, and have not done that, in Iraq.”

He was very surprised to hear this. His facial expressions were very interesting to watch. I think that at times he had a hard time taking in this new perspective. 

And then we went on to speak about his son’s future; and his own future.

“If you want to open a restaurant, why don’t you go to college? Take some courses; you have experience, how about some economic theory and new business concepts?”

“Dad I told you to do that!”

And then he told me about his new “job”, managing his younger son who wants to act.

And about how he needs to help his wife out, and look out for his  soccer-loving 15 year old’s college career.

And that of his other son from another marriage, but which they never talked about.

And I realised what a great father this guy probably was, and how unfortunate that he was a bit of a poster child for the dangers of misinformation and a lacking education. 

At one point he asked me if the sun was a planet just like the Earth and about how European countries managed to have free health care and not break the bank.

“Socialism just does not work, look at the Euro!”

And, when I got home, I turned on my television and, during my channel surf in search of BBC World, chanced upon Fox News.

The moment I felt most American

AOG, Madrid

On election day 1988 my mother, my sister and I were on a Jumbo Jet heading for Europe. 

We arrived in Madrid and within less than an hour we were on a train heading for the region of Extremadura, on the border with Portugal. 

My thoughts on that long journey (it was about an 8 hour train journey then to add to the transatlantic flight) centered around what our new lives would be like in this continent. I remember being told at the time that Spain only had 2 television channels. 

This might seem ridiculous to you, but I had grown up with cable, and two channels seemed insufficient to me. And third-world like. And I wasn't happy about it.

I remember stepping off the train and looking over the tracks to my right. A beautiful hill and forest scene with sheep peacefully standing there, hardly moving. To my left, the future. 

We had gone to Extremadura because one of my mother’s great aunts lived there with her Italian husband, who came to pick us up at the train station. My parents were separated now and would divorce a few years later, and this was the only close family we had at the time. 

The car which picked us up at the station was a white Ford Escort. I remember thinking then “ok, I know this model, everything is going to be ok”. 

View of the city of Caceres

 A couple of days later, my sister and I went into town on our own. I clearly recall my thoughts when I saw this very modern looking parking meter with a digital screen right next to a XVII century Baroque palace with medieval elements attached to it.

I immediately thought back to the meters in Houston where you had to stick a quarter and roll a handle to watch a little flag pop up telling you how much time you had left. 

 At that moment, America didn’t seem modern at all, especially when compared to this country which could allow things like Baroque palaces and modern digital machines to co-exist side by side. It was, I think, my first eye-opener.

A year after landing in Spain, we landed in London. Life was moving on.

I have to say that from the moment I set foot in Europe in 1988 I have felt American on a daily-basis. It is hard to explain, but it must be related to not really knowing what the deal is most of the time. To making a faux pas here and there, that you are not even aware that you are making. 

To looking at things and thinking, “my God what are they on about with this?”. 

To reacting to some situations in a manner different from expected by my friends and colleagues.

To not settling for tripe when tripe is being served (although I think this is more about me than about me being American; many Americans settle for tripe too easily).

I know I am different from most of the people who surround me and my life. I think differently.  I act differently. I react differently. I want different results. Better things in general.

And I'm glad I do. Just as I am glad that they think differently from me.

I have experienced hundreds of examples of this  cultural disparity since election day 1988.

But back to the original question.

In 1995 I went back to the US and stayed with a friend in Alabama. it was my first trip back since 1988.

Although everything was familiar I could see small cultural cracks here and there. I was no longer the same person who’d left the country 7 years before.

And the questions began to flood in. Some positive, some negative.

Why do people drive everywhere? Why don't they make more sidewalks? Why do they all eat so much processed food? Why are things national and not local? Why are there so many people who allow religion to rule their lives? Why all this racism and hate? Why are women's fashion and hair stuck in the 1980s?

I was feeling very much the European throughout. But then something happened.

 Shortly before I left, I went out one night in Birmingham and I met this guy who was very friendly.

I remember talking with him about things, his life and his future, and mine. He was about my age and had achieved quite a lot. He told me about his up and coming projects, dreams, and achievable goals. There it was once again. American positive thinking. Everything was possible.

I remember thinking during that conversation that I needed to get my butt in gear and be like my right-there-in-front-of-me peer.

I needed to complete my education, just like him, and start aiming for a good job, just like him, and aim for a better life, just like him.

He was talking to me in a language I completely understood. The cultural references were identical. The outlook was familiar and well trodden. The goals achievable. The future was bright, and it had an American glow about it.

I felt very American just then. That instant catapulted me back to the person I used to be just before that Pan Am flight touched down at Madrid Barajas Airport in 1988. The feeling stayed with me for a long time afterwards.

I returned to London.

Yes, the minute I got back to my flat in central London the questions started flowing, but in reverse.

Why is everything so expensive? Why is everyone so poor? Is this a police state? Why doesn’t anyone smile? What am I doing here?

It was a few years before I realized what I was doing there and before I could answer my  own questions.

I confess that these days, I am one of those people who feel very American in Europe, and very European whenever I go to the US. I can't help that. In fact, I rather like it. 

Outside

AOG, Madrid

Outside is different. What does this normally mean? Well, for starters, it means that everywhere you go, it is going to be different. Different? You may say, But of course!

Well Little Miss Smart Ass, you don’t know different until you see a French toilet up close and personal. Or until you enter a rest area on a British highway and marvel at the dried up and insipid food. You never knew sausages could taste like rope did you?

Yes, forget America’s obsession with hygiene and smells and get ready to enter the smelly world waiting for you just outside your local international airport terminal.

The planet is different from us. Not better or worse just different, and I suggest you strap yourself tightly, darling, because the great “unknown” just beyond our borders is going to smack you in the face like a wet fish and no, it won’t say sorry afterwards.

Start with Europe, one of our acknowledged cultural homelands (for what else is our country but an amalgamation of XVIII European Enlightenment thoughts and ideas sprinkled here and there with some good old fashioned social and religious persecution and a shameless excuse for slavery and world domination?).

Europeans feel superior to us. No, I can’t explain it. They just do. It does not matter that we tend to earn more, have bigger and longer hair, that our waistlines are expanding like mount Krakatoa on acid, or that we live in larger homes. 

It does not matter that the price we pay for gas is half of what they pay, or that anything the Japanese invent, we get first.

It goes beyond that.

Europeans have a certain knack for keeping old things around which we either lost along the way, or, quite frankly, never acquired. And yes, we must admit, that is why we go to Europe.

No one in their right mind travels seven hours from JFK to stare at London’s Canary Wharf, or eight hours to be marvelled by La Defense, in Paris.

No.

We jump into those flying tubes to get what we don’t get in America: old stuff. Sometimes, very old stuff. In the case of Greece and Italy, even ancient stuff.

And here’s where their dislike of us begins. Once, in Southern Spain, I overheard a group of American teenagers as they were being addressed by their tour guide.

“We will visit the Roman ruins of Italica”, she said.

And what did Miss Blonde Bimbo say to her friend within earshot of yours truly?

“Oh, we have those back home, how boring”.

In case you are wondering, la Bimbona was from Texas.

The tour guide overheard her and started to laugh when she glanced over towards the airhead section of the group and saw me trying to gnaw my veins off in disgust.

Europeans, I must confess, don’t hate Americans, they just hate stupid people.

Unfortunately for us, we do have an inordinate amount of those within our borders. Sometimes they even make it into the White House, so imagine how superior Europeans feel!

In Europe you will find old everything: homes, cars, clothes, people, museums, streets, jewels, neighborhoods, cities, bridges, and, interestingly, customs.

Europeans like their tradition even more than we do, the difference being that they have so much of it!

Like their tradition of keeping poor people poor. 

An age old tradition that one.

Why help the poor better their lot in life when they will only multiply and produce more smelly poor people? 

Like I always say, you can’t rape the willing!

Harsh, but very much how many European governments treat their population, and they then, in turn, say things like “please Sir, can I have some more?”

Unless they are Scandinavian. These are probably the only countries on Earth which have worked tirelessly to ensure everyone is middle class, and poor at the same time.

Poor? You may ask. But I heard they have a great social system!

Indeed they do. Everything is paid for…out of their salary. What is the point of earning 60K when half (or more) of it is going to the State? So ok, they are not exactly Brokeback Mountain poor, but they are sort of lower middle class on state aid poor… ish.

But they drive Saabs and Volvos! You say. Yes, but they tend to be cheaper there. And subsidised.

Unlike their alcohol, which is taxed to death and controlled unlike in any other place on this planet.

Which explains why Scandinavians like to visit Southern Europe so much: booze is cheaper there, and like the Vikings they really are at heart, they love nothing more than getting wasted on a Mediterranean beach after (or even whilst) “fertilizing” a local lovely.

Ah…Europe…so civilized…and yet…so not!

Like I said at the beginning, “outside” is different. Be prepared, yes, but bear in mind that our way is not the only way, nor the best way.

You really haven’t lived until you’ve Frenched a drunken Adonis on a Mediterranean beach under a star lit sky with Europop blaring nearby. 

Or until you discover what a foreskin is. You thought you had, but I assure you, you haven’t. Not until you've seen one upclose and personal.

Pack your bags my lovely, it is going to be a bumpy, yet thrilling, ride!

No longer the hero

AOG, Madrid

Navy Capt. Lisa Marie Nowak is, (was)? an astronaut and a mission specialist aboard the space shuttle Discovery.
Today she was arrested on battery and attempted kidnapping charges after allegedly trying to subdue Colleen Shipman, her romantic rival for the affections of astronaut and US Navy Commander Bill Oefelein, with pepper spray and abduct her from a parking lot at Orlando International Airport. The image below is her mug shot. How low have the mighty fallen?

Apparently both were "in a relationship" with Mr. Oefelein.

Nowak, who is 43 and married with three children (and has been an astronaut since 1996), has been charged with battery, attempted kidnapping, attempted burglary to a vehicle and destruction of evidence. Police have recommended Nowak be held without bond. She is thought to have travelled over 9,000 miles in order to murder the proverbial "other woman". Although in her case, she herself might be the "other, other woman".

This is the link to the story as told by CNN, who have been following the story.

There are a few occupations left from which we hear precious little about. Dictator is one of them, as is hand model, nuclear scientist and palace majordomo. But none of these is one which small children would choose as a life path. Perhaps Dictator.

However Astronaut is one of those professions small children dream about. So do the not-so-small children.

Since its inception, no one has looked upon this profession with anything but awe and respect. Amazingly, up until today, astronauts and their personal lives were largely off-hands for the general public.

Not anymore. Today the veil was lifted and astronauts and their personal lives, as it were, were brought down to earth. They were humanised. Granted, for all the wrong reasons, but today we saw human drama and tragedy in a group of people so removed from mainstream life that any information, positive or negative, is welcome. And ridiculed and talked about and everything else. But, collectively, we all lost something today.

The cynics amongst us will say things like "they are people after all", "what did you expect?", "those crazy americans". They will be right in thinking so. However....all I know is that I will go to bed tonight with one less hero in my mind.

Dealing with cultures in a Blasé sort of way

AOG, Madrid

It is a difficult thing to live in a different country, something I have done all my life. So much so that I, in fact, belong to many places all at once, and to nowhere in particular.

I think that as my personality developed, it picked up pieces from here and there and fused them with whatever was there before. And this must have gone on always. In many ways it still goes on.

I am acutely aware of how different my sense of humor is becoming in Spain. My friends refer to it as being very "British". This is because I am the epitome of sarcasm, mockery and understated irony. And yet, I am aware that this sense of humor was already quite latent in high school back in Texas. If not sooner.

I find myself these days trying to learn the Spanish work etiquette. I find it hard to know when to make a joke, when to be serious. When to relax and when to worry about something. If there is a Spanish word for Blasé, I have not found it yet. And flippancy is sometimes frowned upon. And very often welcomed. I just never know.

And it is driving me mad. I find myself being either very serious, which is interpreted as being in a bad mood, angry, or something to do with my general well being oroutright irreverent (unfortunately I do this only too well!) and out of synch with everyone else. I think the people at the office are still trying to figure me out, although I believe that most think they have me figured out already- a very common Spanish thing to do, in my view.

When I arrived at the radio, I met with some of my ex-classmates on the elevator. As soon as they saw me they said "we were just talking about you, we were discussing how you should have been sent to the culture section at El País". I was flattered and amazed they thought this. I think I am better suited for an international newsdesk. And yet, this is how I am perceived.

I spent today updating the radio's website, as I have been doing since last week, with mostly international news. I think that they know it is what I like doing most, and so they oblige me. But of course, I do all sorts of news.

Today I wrote about sectarian mobs in Lebanon killing 4 people; about the arrest of a Spanish brigadier for talking to the press last year and criticising the Defense Ministry- big no no in this country it would appear. At least from within because it appears that everyone in Spain and their dog criticises the government whatever the reason.

I also wrote about the US Secretary of State's forthcoming visit to Spain next March.

And then I discover that "no mention was made [between Spain's Foreign Affairs Minister, M.A. Moratinos, and Ms. Rice] concerning president Zapatero's recent declarations concerning his willingness to follow the desires of the people of Spain and not meet up with President Bush ever". I was amazed to read this.

Amazed at how insular this country can be at times. I think Señor Zapatero must be the ONLY president or Prime Minister on earth who would say such a thing publicly.

And I don't think that this is either pragmatic nor helpful for Spain's foreign policy.

What country wants to deal with a state whose president may or may not meet with you depending on whether he likes you or not? I fully understand Señor Zapatero's principles in wishing not to meet with Mr. Bush. But when you are in politics, it is time to put your personal beliefs aside for the pursuit of a greater cause. In this case, Spain's foreign policy goals.

True, Mr. Bush is out of the White House in no time, but I think Mr. Zapatero fails to realise that by snubbing the American Head of State, he snubs an entire country. And if Mr. Zapatero is not aware of how much Spain's wellbeing depends on Americas's good will, he, or indeed Spain, may experience a rude awakening one day. This is, after all, the man who is pressing at the UN for his plan of an "Alliance of civilisations". Am I missing something here?

Unfortunately many in Spain (and the rest of Europe for that matter) prefer to live in the fiction that they are in the right, and America in the wrong. Not just today. Always.

Many people here are very anti-American. Not anti 'Americans' mind you, Americans they deal with well enough, and Spain is certainly very americanified these days, just like any other Western country. Two days ago they broadcasted Mr. Bush's State of the Union speech. Live!!! If that is not Americanified, I don't know what is!

Still, many here profess a deep dislike of American foreign policy. Old imperial rivalries? Perhaps. I have to say that I find the British behaving towards the US in much the same way. But whereas in Spain, as I stated before, Americans are mostly liked well enough, in Britain I would not be so sure. But of course, these are just generalisations. And I still have of lot of cultural catching up to do.

Babel

AOG, Madrid

Last Saturday night I went to see Alejandro González Iñarritu's last film Babel in Barcelona. For those of you uninitiated to the author, he is also director of Amores Perros and 21 Grams.

Babel is a masterpiece of silence, brevity, despair, arrogance and hopelessness. Don't expect a happy anything. There is only one beautiful image in the whole film- beautiful because it was filmed to be visually impacting. One which at the same time proves to be bittersweet. It involves the two brothers, and it is towards the end of the film. It will leave you breathless, if agonizingly so.

The multinarrative drama of this film, according to him, completes Iñarritu's "Death trilogy" along with the aforementioned films.

As I watched the painful images being shown, I kept thinking that the only thing worse than dying, is staying alive. At least in this film.

The movie portrays death as an antidote to life. Life triumphant is given little airtime in Babel. No religious dogma, just nature, life, society, in their purest form.

Iñarritu's "glue" throughout the film is probably a constant feeling of alienation from beginning to end. The images of lives going catastrophically awry, amiss even, are traumatic and disconcerting to watch; needless to say, it is a difficult movie to watch.

This may be because, at some level, we see ourselves in similar situations with similar outcomes. Because we understand that our lives can go the way of the character's. Because we all understand tragedy all too well.

Alejandro shows us the imbecilic power which figures of authority have over anyone as a whole. To get into trouble, you can be anybody, and any one of us is anybody. But he lets us into the little known secret that, to get really out of trouble, it is not enough to be innocent, that can no longer be just passers-by, that your life can only be calamity free if you are somebody.

And, yes, we are all somebody, but I mean to be someone at a powerful or influential level. Normal folk never do well. We must always pay a price for being normal.

He also shows the general tendency American's have to overreact to simple situations. I am not saying that the situations portrayed in the film are simple in any way, but at their core, drama aside, they call for a response different from that portrayed by the American characters. Not all Americans of course, but there is a recognisable "national" trait here.

As a piece of anthropological research, Iñarritu also succeeds, but not because of the obvious "ethnic" characters. Although the film takes place in Mexico, Morocco, Japan and the US, I think you need to see it before commenting on this observation further.

The film, which stars Brad Pitt, Kate Blanchett, Gael García Bernal, Koji Yakusho (seen too in Memoirs of a Geisha) and Adriana Barraza, has already won a few awards and it stands nominated for 7 Golden Globes.

It looks Oscar-bound to me. The themes touched upon are exhausting and painful. Nonetheless, it is a great film. One which teaches you something about yourself you did not know you did not know.