The emo post

This is the post where I begin my reflections on everything I've encountered. But before I begin, I'll start by saying that I'm going to a Basque rodeo today. I have no idea what to expect.

I'll start by bemoaning something seriously lacking in America: a sense of community. Perhaps it exists in pockets of small towns buried between miles of cornfields, but from everything I have seen, America lost it long before I was born. Block parties do not cut it. Neither do running into familiar faces at town halls and PTA meetings. It won't cut it because 1) people in America move too often, 2) it's become so pluralist that it lost a sense of a single communal identity, and 3) the creation of suburbia has done more damage than this essay could even begin to describe. This isn't all bad: we move for a lot of reasons, love, family, jobs etc..., none of them bad. But it's when everyone starts moving that communities break down. Our value-pluralism has allowed us to be accepting of various creeds and identities without having to believe the same things. And the suburbs, as much as I hate them, have provided a house for every person with their own lawn and safer environment. But suffice it to say, community is lost.

Last night was a Basque party to welcome in Spring. It was celebrated with a choir with traditional Euskaldi songs. The students, all Basque with the exception of myself, all knew the songs and sang along. Some of the songs mourned the loss of their country to Spain, other songs about their villages. Each village has their own traditional song. I was talking with one of my best friends here, Inigo (a very common Basque name - so common you have heard it before ("My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.")). I asked what Inigo was planning to do once he graduated and he said he was going to go to med school and then return to his village in the mountains and work as a doctor. In fact, nearly all of the students will return to their villages, marry one of the boys or girls their grew up with all their life and have a family of their own. Inigo's graduating class had 20 students and he expects to see all 20 when they return with degrees.

One of the most interesting things for any tourist to the Basque lands is its language. "I have never seen a person speak Euskera who wasn't Basque," said my another classmate, Xavier (Chabi for short), "for me it is a treasure to speak a language so different. With a language this different you end up thinking about the world differently, something I realized when I learned Spanish. Now I think in both languages. But we will teach you Basque and you will get so many girls."

It is true, the Basque are quite proud of their language. It is probably their most distinguishing feature. If you ever want to know what Basque sounds like, you can simply think of stereotypical caveman noises and grunt them really fast. I went to a Spanish art exhibit on cave art, and when they played audio of the cave men, they were speaking basic Basque words. It has earned them the distinction in Spain of being brutes - and no Basque I ever talked to disagreed.

However, after spending five months slowly learning the language, I am proud to say it is learnable. I have dreamt twice in it. But yes, it is the hardest thing I have ever put my mind to and I speak worse than a child. It gives me such embarrasment that I will only speak with my roommate, Enaut, and a few other friends. There are too many things that makes Basque such a difficult tongue to list here. But if you ever want to take a glance at some of their trickier facets, look up:

Ergative case
Basque auxiliary verb
Basque verb-noun agreement
The suffix -ak
The verbs izan and ukan
Dialectical differences

Language specialists say most people learn about 800 words in their first two or three months studying Spanish, German, Russian or any other Indo-European language. This is a very high bar to set for yourself in Basque. On the other hand, even if you learned Basque from one region, it would be useless in another. "I come from Gipuzkoa," says Xibi (not Xavier), "so when I arrived at this dorm, most of the girls came from the Bizkaia region and I couldn't understand them. It took me a year before I finally adjusted."

It's true, Basque has many varieties that can frustrate any learner. 'Ze arraia!', for instance, means 'What the hell?' in the south. But if you were to say that in the middle of Basque country, people would probably think you are trying to say 'araida', which means cooked fish ready for eating.

The matter gets more confusing if you travel to the French side. "Whenever Basque tourists come from France I ask them to just speak French and I hope I can understand," says Enaut, who has a basic vocaublary in French, "because I don't understand their Euskera. Their spelling is similar, but the pronounciation is so different it's better to revert to French."