Writing on the wall

Yesterday was quiet, highlighted only by a nice long phone chat with Julia in Divonne les Bains, and a visit to the garage. The spare part acquired was correct for the make of car, but not for the vehicle in question, as differences exist in the same model depending on age and location of manufacture within the European community. It would have fitted OK, but the terminals for the electrical connection in the unit weren't compatible. There was nothing about the part serial number to suggest anything different!

This morning I went down to 'El Portico' where members of the congregation were setting things up for Thursday's Christmas Fayre. Tomorrow will be a preparatory Christmas goodies cooking day, so that everything on the stalls will be as fresh as possible. Michael has arranged for us to meet Fr Cristobel the Parish Priest on Friday, to meet up and take a look around the Fishermen's Chapel. That'll challenge my Spanish, no less than communicating about the car with Manolo el mecanico.

I missed observing the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in remembrance of the fallen of the two world wars. I was doing a weekly food shop in Lidl's at the time, disconnected by retail necessities from more solemn considerations. How does conflict start? What goes wrong in communications, that leads  to violence? I came across this graffito this morning on the back wall of one of the fishermen's storage places behind the port distribution centre. The quote is from an eminent Valencian language scholar.

This can best be described as a morcel of cultural one up-manship, however you read it. Either it is reckoning Valencian language/dialect is like Catalunyan for infants. Or else 'Tots' in this regional context means 'All'. I keep on finding words of French origin. Both languages are quite similar in many respects. Here we're a couple of miles inside the border of Valencia with Catalunya, so this is assertive, whether written by an insider or an outsider. Valencia Generalitat is, in effect, bankrupt while Catalunya is Spain's economic powerhouse. Language snobbery whether in salons or street art, is as old as the hills. Sadly it doesn't always stop there.