Basque Country 2009: The Decline and Fall of English

Last night we went to the Kursaal. (The big building from outerspace that landed next to the ocean and river in the neighborhood of Gros) We went to a fundraiser event for the employees of "Egunkaria," a Basque-language newspaper founded in 1990 which was raided in 2003 by the Guardia Civil (Spanish, national police force) because of suspected relations with the terrorist group ETA. No proof was ever found to convict the handful of employees that were imprisoned and tortured, so they were eventually released. However, they await another trial in Madrid and thus need money for all of the legal expenses. So that's where the thousands of Basque spectators come in. Each ticket to the event cost 20 Euros but we managed to find five tickets for free from a generous lady at the last minute. (Because we don't want to support terrorism) The newspaper has not since returned to publish, and many suspect that its closure and that of other publications (This is not an isolated case) is due to its leftist tendencies and not due to any actual wrongdoings. Therefore, there have been massive protests.

The whole political situation is basically like what happens to the animal rights and environmental activists in the United States, but on a more racist, macro level. Just another purging of the left in another corner of the world. So if someone asks you about the basque country feel free to tell them that it's a society full of terrorists; 2,589,000 to be exact. Having said that, it's basically a miracle that I'm still alive.

The event itself was pretty enjoyable. I'd never even been inside of the Kursaal before and was pleased with the speeches, poetry, music, and general solidarity of the atmosphere. A few performances (Ken 7, Erramun Martikorena, Mikel Urdangarin) were from artists that I'm familiar with, so I enjoyed seeing them live.

In other news:
I ran a marathon today. Well, part of one anyway. I was laughing. When I left the house this morning I realized there were a bunch of people running in the street, so I joined them because it's not everyday that you can run in the street. I caught up with a biker and shouted at him, "Aizu! zein da lasterketa hau?" And he informed me that it was the Donostia marathon. "Wow, What a coincidence!" I thought as I zoomed by another group of fatigued runners. I was just doing my hour-long, three beaches run from one side of the town to the other and back, while the others were huffin-and-puffin down the streets after three hours running through the city. Since Donostia is a pretty small city enclosed by mountains the participants were forced to go on a circuit. Not the most ideal marathon. I, on the other hand, enjoyed running my 12k and having people offer me water and cheer me on through parts of it.
"Aurrera!" "Aupa!" "Segi Campeon!" "Venga."