Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Mama Told Me Not To ...

Family closeness is all well and good, but the Spanish, in the form of young-adult offspring, have traditionally often failed to leave the womb, especially the young-adult Spanish male, for which read also of course Mallorcan male. I once read someone bemoaning the nature of this species. To paraphrase, it was in terms of sun shining from where only those with certain proclivities or medical staff would dare venture. The Mallorcan son can do so little wrong that he is indulged and is quite content to reciprocate by continuing to feast from his mother's table. There is one Mallorcan chap who I meet periodically, except that is when he fails to show up, normally because mama has insisted she cooks lunch. And this Mallorcan chap runs a restaurant. Go figure.

But some do of course escape. The only problem is that the economic crisis is driving them back to the welcoming arms of mama who doubtless had told them not to go in the first place. Everything is back again as it should be in the Mallorcan family, courtesy of the American sub-prime crisis. According to a piece in "The Times", 60% of those between the ages of 18 and 34 live at home, more than a quarter of that figure being over 30. And now the numbers are rising.

In my immediate neighbourhood, there is one 30-something who is still at home and who has enjoyed many a mama's hearty meal by the looks of him. Another, in the house opposite, is still there, and his brother lives round the corner. One rather grand house has a whole load of them; it's all a bit like "Dallas" minus the oil.

For one who, had it not been for university meaning that a room was kept available for the rare trip home, would have been shown the parental door at the end of schooling, I find it all a bit strange. But there is a serious side to all this in that economic circumstances are making it hard to move out even if they want to. Young people tend to be employed on temporary contracts and so are the first to get the chop, while an average salary across Spain for those under 35 is 18,000 euros. Leaving mama has never been more difficult.


BAD DEBT
"DEUDOR". Know what it means? Change a couple of letters and you would have the English. Debtor. All the Spanish that might have headed to the beach near me on Sunday would of course have known the word. That may have been the intention; the more that could see, the better. The only problem was the morning rain and cloud which meant that, despite the afternoon sun, the beach was more or less deserted on what is otherwise the busiest day of the week. Consequently, there were only a few other cars where normally one gets some double-parking. It made one car stand out though. A Volvo estate. I seem to have seen it there quite regularly. Someone else would have known it would be there, too. And would probably have taken into account that the repair workshops would be closed till Monday. "Deudor" had been scratched into the bonnet. The tyres had been slashed. It was not perhaps as vandalistic as a car I once saw near Sea Club in Puerto Alcúdia. Its windows had been smashed and it had been spray-painted with the word "GRASS". And yes, it was the English word; I've not translated.

Much as many here will resort to a "denuncia" to the police for matters trivial enough that they should be possible to resolve with a bit of adult discussion or will fabricate the "facts" of a denuncia, there are many others who will take matters into their own hands - for those things for which a bit of adult discussion might be beyond the wit of either party or for which there seems no other resort than to vandalism or violence. Exasperation can sometimes drive people to extraordinary measures. Not that I am condoning grand auto vandalism. Far from it. But I can understand the exasperation.

I have no way of knowing the circumstances behind the "deudor" attack, but if someone owes you money, there is not a lot you can do about it, unless you have pretty deep pockets and are willing to go through a protracted court procedure. There is no such thing here as a small claims court. And if you happen to be the one who owes the money, here's a word of advice. Find yourself a garage. Oh, and it might be an idea if you pay the garage's landlord as well.


DON'T GIVE A FIG
A year ago I did a piece about figs. This is the fig season. My mate with a finca near Santa Margalida delivered a tray last night. Pure ambrosia. I hadn't appreciated, until he told me, that they are highly calorific. To Hell with it. Hand me another.


QUIZ
Yesterday's title - "Immigrant Song", Led Zeppelin (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svR3iXKTJvc). Today's title - ok, Tom Jones, but who came first and who had the first hit?

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