Fighting City Hall

In the latest issue of the magazine published by my local city hall, there is an article about Mercadona, a big supermarket chain.  The headline says that Mercadona already has the permit to start construction.  The article goes on to say that they will begin construction in a few months time, here at our village.  In fact, this same week, they have signed the sales contract with the city hall for the land upon which this new supermarket will be built.

This land is mostly small parcels of olive orchards and a few carob trees bordering the small highway that leads into the village from the national highway and the toll motorway.  Some have small buildings on them and even the occasional house.

What the article does not say is that these parcels of land belong to several private individuals.  The L’Ametlla city hall has taken the land, sold it, and the owners have not received one cent in payment for it.  But they have been told that they can have other parcels, about a tenth the size of their present holdings in exchange.  These other smaller parcels will be limited as to their use.  In fact, there is a plan to urbanize those parcels so that the new owners will only be allowed to build the apartment buildings that are planned.  And they will have to pay about 200,000 – 300,000 euros each (depending on the size of their parcel) for the cost of the infrastructures and development.

A few of the owners have hired an attorney to help them fight this theft by local government.  They understand that when the time comes for them to have to pay the 200,000 euros – money they don’t have -- they will lose the land, and that will be the end of the story.  They have chosen to fight.   

So far they have signed nothing.  It seems to me that if private property is going to be taken from them, then before any construction begins they should be paid fair market value for it.  Although to tell the truth, I don’t think it is acceptable for any government authority to take property that is privately owned unless it is for public services such as roads or railway lines.  But taking someone’s land so that a large corporation can build a supermarket doesn’t seem appropriate.  After all, we don’t live in a dictatorship or some third world country. 

I happen to know the circumstances of this theft by city hall because Trini and her family are involved.  Trini runs the electric shop where I buy all my appliances and her brother Ramon installs and eventually repairs them if they break down.  The land belongs to their father, also named Ramon.  And when it comes to that, Ramon junior’s son is named Ramon, but they call him Ramonet.

Ramon senior inherited the land in the 1970s from an aunt of his who left it to him because her own son had been killed in the Spanish Civil War, and that son, who was older than Ramon senior, was his godfather.  So this land has been in the family a long time and was an inheritance.  Ramon senior wants it to continue to be an inheritance.  He takes good care of it, he built a house on it with his own hands, he grows vegetables in his kitchen garden there, the family spends weekends and parts of the summer there, and he wants to be able to leave it to his children.  That seems perfectly reasonable to me.

If not for the fact that I know victims of this land deal, I would have thought it was a normal business venture.  I worry for my friends, for the anxiety and financial burden of the legal fight ahead that this is causing them.  Although there are a dozen or more owners who are losing their parcels, only five of them are putting up a fight and paying an attorney.  The rest seem to be shrugging their shoulders.  I hope those who are standing up for their rights end up victorious.  One of the perks of living in a democracy is that things like this are not supposed to happen.

I am pondering this as I read The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal.  This is a history of de Waal’s family -- a Jewish family made their fortune in Odessa and spread their business to Vienna and Paris.  De Waal traces his family to their various outposts, through fin de siecle Paris then to Vienna until it was taken over by the Nazis and finally to Japan.  He does this by following the trail of a collection of netsuke – Japanese miniatures – that his great uncle Iggie left him when he died in 1994.

You may well wonder why I bring up this book that has nothing to do with the taking of olive groves in L’Ametlla de Mar.  But in fact, there is something in this book, something very upsetting, that reminds me of my friends’ predicament.  When the Nazis took over Vienna, they began systematically taking away all the wealth of its resident Jews.  This included their homes and all the contents, and their businesses.  De Waal writes, “All across Vienna this is happening.  Sometimes Jews are forced to sell things for next to nothing to raise money for the Reichsflucht tax in order to be permitted to leave.  Sometimes things are just taken.  Sometimes taken with violence, sometimes without…”

In L’Ametlla the act of just taking has nothing to do with anyone being Jewish; there are no Jews here.  But the taking is the same, and the catch-22 of having to pay a huge sum if you want to keep what belongs to you in the first place sounds familiar.

Good luck to Trini, Ramon, and Ramon.  It isn’t easy to beat city hall.

(Photos by Trini Gonzalez)

Visiting Van Gogh

Remember van Gogh’s painting of the almond blossoms that I posted last week (and that appears again here at the left)?  To my surprise, it appeared on the back cover of a book that I had ordered from Amazon and that arrived this week.

The book is Theo: The Other Van Gogh by Marie-Angelique Ozanne and Frederique de Jode.  It is about Vincent’s brother Theo without whom, it is unlikely that there would be all those hundreds of van Gogh paintings.  That a painting by Vincent should appear on the cover of a book about his brother Theo isn’t necessarily surprising.  But this did surprise me because this one is far from being one of Vincent’s most famous paintings and I had just posted it on my blog.  It would have been more likely that they would have used one of the more emblematic paintings: Irises or Sunflowers, a self-portrait, or a starry night.  So finding this painting on the back when I turned the book over was a pleasant surprise and an interesting coincidence.

Van Gogh didn’t used to be my favorite painter.  If I had to choose one, it would have been Rembrandt.  What happened to change this is that about three years ago I saw the tail end of the movie Lust for Life on TV.  I had never seen it before but remembered my mother liking it, so when I saw it listed I tuned in.  It didn’t make me a van Gogh fan, but it sparked my interest in him, in part because not long before, I had visited Arles for a few days.

My previous visit to Arles and the little bit of story I saw on the television drew me in and I started reading about Vincent.  When I started to read about him and looked at the paintings that I found on the internet, I saw that I had been inspired to photograph many of the same images that he had painted.  But I didn’t know that at the time.  Then again, Arles is a small town.

I started reading through his letters to his brother Theo that I found on a wonderful site on the net.  A new book of his letters had just been published, but it was multiple volumes, beautiful illustrated with his paintings, and I couldn’t afford it.  So instead I found The Vincent van Gogh Gallery, looked at drawings and paintings, and read letters for free.  They have all the letters.  The more I read, the more van Gogh became a real person rather than a media myth.  And the more real he became, the more I liked him… and his paintings.

Since then I’ve been on a mini van Gogh quest.  If you would like to learn more about this highly intelligent, troubled, polyglot, genius, here is my reading list.  Some of the books were better than others.  They included (I read them in this order):

The Yellow House by Martin Gayford.  This is a non-fictional account of the few weeks that Gauguin spent with Vincent in Arles.  I thought it was well done and very interesting.

Sunflowers by Sheremy Bundrick.  I found this a poor attempt at historical fiction at the expense of Vincent.  In this absurd, concocted tale, Vincent is in love with the prostitute to whom he (in real life) presented with the piece of his mutilated ear.

Vincent and Theo Van Gogh by Jan Hulsker.  Hulsker is one of the leading experts on Van Gogh.  This biography explains the lives of the two brothers and provides many illustrations and parts of their correspondence.  Unfortunately it is out of print but I managed to find a relative inexpensive used copy that my (then) stepson Manuel Serge was kind enough to schlep to Spain when he came for vacation.  As I recall, the book weighs something like five pounds!  If you want to read it, look for it in your library or for a used copy.

The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh edited by Mark Roskill.  There are hundreds of van Gogh letters.  Roskill provides enough to give you a sense of Vincent’s life and his character.  He also says, in the introduction to my edition, that he made some revisions to the edition “as a record of my feelings towards this great artist and intensely lovable man.”  These are my sentiments too.

Lust for Life by Irving Stone.  Having seen the last bit of the movie, I thought it was time to read the book.  The story is good because Vincent’s life is a compelling story.  But I thought the writing was poor.

Leaving Van Gogh by Carol Wallace.  This is the fictional story of the last few weeks of Vincent’s life, as imagined by Carol Wallace and told in the voice of Dr. Gachet.  Dr. Gachet was the doctor who took charge of Vincent’s care in Auvers-sur-Oise   , where Vincent went to stay after leaving the asylum in St. Remy.  It is fiction.  Although I liked it (all but the ending) when I read it, after reading the Naifeh biography later (see below) I was incensed that someone could write a novel of historical fiction and stray so far from the known facts.  I do not recommend the book and am getting rid of my copy. (If I burned books I would burn this one.  But I don’t, which makes it difficult to know what to do with it.  Pass it on to someone who will likely be misled? Or keep the public safe from it by keeping it on my own shelf?  Right now it sits on the back seat of my car where it can do no harm.)

Van Gogh: The Life by Stephen Naifeh and Geoffrey W. Smith.  This well-researched and detailed biography is an excellent source if you want to know about Van Gogh the brilliant and troubled painter and Van Gogh the brilliant and troubled man. 

Portrait of Dr. Gachet by Cynthia Saltzman.  This non-fiction book is said to be well-researched and yet I found several errors in the early parts concerning Van Gogh.  I assume the rest of the story, which is really a kind of biography of the painting – who painted it, who owned it, what the world and the art world as like during the years of its existence and its travels – is correct.  I found it an extremely interesting history.

I’m looking forward to reading the new arrival, Theo: The Other van Gogh.  When you read about Vincent, Theo is always there, in the foreground or the background.  I’m very eager to learn more about this very important figure in Vincent’s life.

Spring Almonds

It's true.  I don't really like it here.  Besides the fact that living in a three-bedroom house with a garden and pool means living beyond my means and that makes me constantly stressed, I also don't like the area.  I don't like it for several reasons, one of them being that I don't find it beautiful.  Beauty is something you can't really argue.  Either something strikes you as beautiful or it doesn't.  Just like either you like liver or you don't.  Or smelly cheese.

Not finding the area beautiful doesn't mean I never find beauty here.  The sea doesn't move me, but when the skies were swarming with starlings a few years ago, I was moved to my core with the magnificence of the spectacle.  Spring also brings with it the more subtle spectable of the almond trees in bloom.  Their color is pale and the flowers are delicately small, but in this rather colorless landscape where their arboreal companions are olives and pines that make no overt change during the course of the year, the almonds are a potent sign of the approach of spring.

Above is my photo taken near where I live, and below is a painting of the same subject by Vincent van Gogh painted in Arles.  There is no comparison between my very average photo and the genius of Vincent's painting.  I post them both because it pleases me that Vincent enjoyed some of the same things that I do.  If you have any interest in van Gogh, take a look at the new biography written by Pulitzer Prize winners Steven Naifehand Gregory White Smith.  Van Gogh: The Life is a wonderfully detailed biography and it convinced me that it wasn't a suicide.

Two Markets

This is the outdoor market in Nice.  It operates Tuesdays to Sundays.  I could easily spend part of every day there.

This is the outdoor market in L'Hospitalet de l'Infant.  It operates on Sundays.  It is where I go on a Sunday when I have nothing else to do.  I go most Sundays.  The market takes place on the sea, just overlooking the small sporting boat harbor.  I park at a distance and have a nice walk along the beach to make the outing worthwhile.  The mountains in the background remind me of Palm Springs.

Two Thieves

Although I watch TV news daily at mid-day, I don’t expect it to make me laugh.  For the most part I find the news frustrating, disturbing, and depressing.  I watch it anyway because I don’t like to read the paper and I feel I should keep up at least minimally with what is going on.

But today’s news did make me laugh.  The local news included a story of an incident that took place today in Olot, a mid-sized town somewhere inland and north of Barcelona.  An ambulance had arrived at the home of an 83-year-old woman who needed to go to the hospital.  The paramedics went up to her apartment and brought her down.  When they got to the street they found that the ambulance had been stolen.  Because the hospital was nearby, they walked her there, rolling her in her wheelchair.  Then they called the police and reported the theft.

Now I ask you.  Who would steal an ambulance?  Is that a vehicle you can easily hide or disguise?  The thief was at least bright enough not to turn on the flashing lights and siren.  But in spite of his discretion, the police found him soon enough because every ambulance has a GPS system that allowed them to locate him immediately.  The man said he stole the ambulance because he needed to go to Girona.

If the news doesn’t make me laugh often, my cats do.  The other day it was Minnie’s turn.  Minnie is actually a rather staid cat and doesn’t engage in pranks often.  She prefers to sit and contemplate.  But this day she felt compelled to eat the butter I had put on the table in order to butter my morning toast.  I eat toast with butter and marmalade every day, but this was the first time she really tucked in.  If not for the telltale hollow decorated with a scratchy tongue, I might never have known.  She is certainly a far more subtle thief than the guy who stole the ambulance.

Spanish Justice

Today’s post with be short and it will be political.  I always say that I’m not political.  When it comes to politics and to economics (and personal finances), I have a hard time focusing and seem incapable of retaining details.  If the report or argument goes on for too long, my eyes begin to cross.  It is not likely that in any argument, I could succeed in changing anyone else's mind.  And yet I am political in that I pay attention to at least some political issues.  As Lansky described in the book I just read, it must be in my Jewish background.  When company came, at our dining table we did not talk about the weather, or sports, or celebrities.  We talked politics. 

However, the persecution of Judge Baltasar Garzon by the Spanish right wing is a worthy cause for me to bring up.  I’ve been watching this story unfold slowly and every time a new phase emerges, I am left sitting with my mouth open.  Can this be happening in a modern democracy, one that is part of the European Union?

Judge Garzon is being tried in three different proceedings.  One is for accepting money for talks he gave in New York.  Another is for the wiretapping of phone conversations of government officials and businessmen accused of fraud while they were in prison awaiting trial.  These conversations were with their lawyers and Garzon believed they were arranging for the secreting away of the ill-gained money.  And the third is for looking into the disappearance of thousands of victims of the Spanish Civil War and subsequent Franco regime.  After Franco died, Spain passed an amnesty law making it illegal to punish any crime committed by either side in the Civil War or by the subsequent regime.  Spain is home to thousands of unmarked mass graves.  Garzon was acting on the request of many people who lost loved ones and do not know, to this day, what happened or where their bodies are buried.  He says that crimes against humanity are not limited by amnesty laws of any single country.

Many people in Spain support Judge Garzon.  They think that the first two charges are a ploy to weaken his reputation so that the Court will be able to rule against him on the third and most important charge.  The first verdict came in yesterday.  Guilty of the wiretapping.  In contrast, the first two of the government officials who were accused of accepting illegal gifts were acquitted recently and most of them have not yet been tried.

Yesterday's condemnation probably puts an end of Garzon's career as a judge in Spain.  He is currently doing legal work for the World Court.  Apparently some people appreciate his work.  And some say that in the future, he may enter into Spanish politics.  If I were him, I would say Adios to Spain and continue working on an international level where his brave and necessary work is appreciated.

If you would like to read more about Judge Garzon and these trials, here are a few links written by people who can be more informative than me.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/feb/09/spain-judge-baltasar-garzon-suspended

http://news.yahoo.com/spain-judge-garzon-guilty-wiretapping-trial-131708213.html

http://elpais.com/elpais/2012/02/09/inenglish/1328795485_673812.html

Roots 2

I finished Lansky’s Outwitting History this week and am still relishing and pondering.  I’m sorry I never learned to speak Yiddish – a language described as both subversive and deeply expressive.  You’ve got to love a language that has so many words for nerd, and in which kvetching approaches an art form.

I’m still thinking about some of the many interesting people Lansky describes.  One of my favorites is Mrs. Orloff and the story she told about a neighbor and friend she used to have who was a Yiddish actress.  Bella Ballerina had once been in a play on Second Avenue where she portrayed a Jewish woman who abandoned her children to run off with another man:

“For years after that she couldn’t walk down the street without people yelling at her and spitting, ‘Feh!’ they would say, ‘leaving three little children like that.  How could you do such a thing?’”

I learned that Sholem Aleichem, probably the most famous of Yiddish writers (everyone is familiar with him at least indirectly because it was his story of Tevye the Milkman upon which Fiddler on the Roof was based), is buried in the Workmen’s Circle cemetery in Queens.  When I was in London I went to look for Karl Marx’s grave in Highgate Cemetery.  I would have looked for Sholem Aleichem in Queens if I had known.

Lansky works with one woman whose war years resemble those of my parents.  In her case, she “had fled to no-man’s land on the Soviet frontier, eluded the border guards, suffered in Siberia, escaped to Kazakhstan, and after the war, made her way to Canada by way of Sweden.”  My parents had also fled the Germans to end up with the Soviets, suffered in Siberia, stayed some time in Kazakhstan, and after the war, made their way to New York by way of France and the Dominican Republic.

Lansky, in his book rescue work, found that Jews see in Yiddish what they want to see:

“For atheists it was Jewishness without religion; for feminists, Judaism free from patriarchy; for those uncomfortable with Israeli politics, nationalism without Zionism; for socialists, the voice of proletarian struggle…  Although there was truth in each of these characterizations, they remained fragmentary at best; those who espoused them had rarely read deeply in what was, after all, an incredibly rich and multifaceted literature.”

Then there’s Tevye who, in Sholem Aleichem’s story, has an argument with his daughter Chava.  Chava is in love with a Russian peasant – a goy, telling her father that God created all men equal.  This does not please Tevye who employs his usual manner of quoting from holy sources to make his point.  His wife Golda interrupts to say that they have done enough talking out there and that the borscht is ready and on the table.  Tevye replies disparagingly “We are discussing important matters and she comes barging in with her milkhiger (dairy) borscht.”  “My milkhiger borsht,” Golda retorts, “may be just as important as all those important matters of yours.”

Lansky notes that “In the end, Golda suggests, it’s borscht, more than Hebrew quotations, that will hold the Jewish people together.”

I have never read deeply, I’ve hardly read Yiddish literature at all.  And yet I believe Yiddish is important and I’m grateful that others are working to save and revive it.  Me, I’m with Golda.  Borscht, bagels lox and cream cheese, potato latkes, chicken soup with knaidlach.  Culture isn’t only literature.  Golda had a good point.

Culture incorporates more than literature and food.  Music is an important part of Jewish cultural history.  There are some wonderful CDs here in my shop.  Or check out the Lansky or other books.