Oxymoronic? Just plain moronic? Just what exactly are you talking about Shalaka?
Granted, Sept 11 has always been known as a grave day in my conscious, conscientious memory. I remember where I was, etc etc etc, and I recognize it as the catalyst for a million ripples in the world’s salty pond.
BUT. In places of the world where America ISN’T the center of attention, (woah wait what? Take deep breaths, stay with me here) – September 11 carries very different, albeit still weighty, meaning. Here in Catalonya, it is the day that commemorates a tragic military loss in 1714 in which the independent Catalonya lost its’ autonomy. September 11 is now known as the National Day of Catalonya, and since about 2010, it has also come to represent an increasingly emphatic demand for independence for the state. The Catalan people and their (very well spoken) president are organizing, speaking, singing, and rallying for an independence that Spain is not even close to accepting. Come September 26, 2015, they will perform a faux referendum vote, and if it passes, they *say* they are going to declare independence. My very well spoken Spanish professor says that absolutely nobody can actually predict what is going to occur.
Blah blah history geography politics, if any current college students are reading this, you might be zoning out. At first, that’s what I thought as well. It was like Labor Day at home – a day that I’m still kind of unsure what it celebrates, but no school!
But then we stepped onto the streets of this throbbing, varied city on this important day.
I saw kids running around with Catalan flags strung across their backs;
Heard an orchestra swell to a crescendo in support on the Calle Meridiana so crowded with bodies and babies and strollers that it was impossible to pass through;
Watched the event organizer stride back and forth across the stage calling to the crowd that gathered;
craned my neck to try and see the press table as they frantically relayed the unfolding history back to their outlet;
And witnessed the crowd thrusting flags and banners into the air in a resounding roar, seemingly at random, chanting “In-Inda-Indapendencia”.
And it felt important. The day and the spirit and the joy felt momentous.
The Catalan people may not have a lot of political backing to their proposal. Catalonya is a money-producing state for economically depressed Spain. Spain holds veto power in the European Union, virtually blocking any potential attempt to enter as an independent country. There are other cultural groups who want to separate that Spain does NOT want to encourage, including Basque terrorists. (All information I have gathered from speaking to different people/reading some basic news/learning from my Spanish prof. – not by any means a certainty)
But standing on the streets, watching the Catalonian castells (human towers) rise 5 stories high, clapping to the joyful music, it feels like their heart might overpower. And there’s a little girl running down the street from the cafe in which I sit, in bright Catalan red and yellow, to (maybe) prove it.