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The truth of the matter
it’s all in the fetter
of someone’s words to you
when you’re all woo-woo
then come a day that drowns
ye, and leave you all with frowns
and yet the truth of the matter
it’s all in the fetter
of someone’s words to you
and if you’re willing to pursue
or if it’s rather a coo coo

Has your soul’s got a sneeze
let it take another breeze
there’s many men, many a thunder
many to break your heart asunder
if you’re reading this, you care
if you’re writing me, I’d say you dare
help me cure my bloody disease
make me try up my tears and deep-freeze
those stupid emotions that were but a tease

The truth of the matter
it’s all in the fetter
of someone’s words to you
they may be truth, they may be lies
they may be silent, they may be cries
but behold the matter
that’s all in the fetter
of the someone’s actions for you
that go beyond the meaning of coo
and if not, then excuse me but I need to atchoo!

Has my soul’s got a sneeze
I bet it does, and it ain’t a disease
it’s but a poorly clad conman’s trick
the rabbit in the hat, and another stick
fly fly lies, good bye to all sighs
fly fly dreams, good bye to all ties
the truth of the matter
it’s all in the fetter
in your heart’s shatter
in your heart’s matter
in your heart’s fetter


Choose life

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that?

Yup. That’s not mine but it pretty much describes the fix of consumerism one tends to get into…

I’m not really into material things that much, I guess I used to be, but that’s a desire from a very boring decade of my life.

Why do I post it now? Two reasons.
One. I’m looking forward to seeing Trainspotting 2, the first one which made me the person I am today… Lol. Probably really true.


Second. I can relate to the passage. Very much.


I guess we all have years that sort of push us, that get us to the verge of not knowing where to start and where to end. This will be one of these years for me. I know it.

2016 is the logical consequence of 2015, and even though the past year brought me so many many good things, it also brought with it a lot of things and insights that have overshadowed this young year. The facts are all known. And hence, the remedy is at hand too. However, I need a break from all of what surrounds me now.

This being the fact, I decided to re-activate my English blog to keep track of what I’m doing.

I decided to take one year off. I need to for various reasons, and I have a lot of things on my mind right now. So this blog will serve the sole purpose of being something of a log book of the year 2016.

At this minute, these are very early stages of a much needed time-out and of a new phase in my life. Hoping that it will bring me wisdom, creativity, laughter and relief, as well as distance to certain things. Traumas that I need to let go.

The good thing about a Sabbatical is the whole tabula rasa notion, the freedom to let go and the ability to find new shores, new tasks and new skills.

The bad thing about a Sabbatical is the emptiness of a blackboard that you need to fill with useful content.




It’s been quite a ride. From my New Year’s Post until today.

Today marks the first eight years in Ibiza. It’s been quite a tough ride, sometimes it wasn’t all skipping through the daisies, but I made it so far.

Now, when I look back on the past twelve months I can only say. It was a whole lot of work, but in the end it was damn well worth it.

So, at the end of November I received my first copies of my newly published book, La nit estesa (Night extended) which is a crime (type film noir in book form with pulp elements) novel which draws on various literary genres. It’s basically a hard-boiled detective story but also some kind of underground novel. It shows you Ibiza from its seedy drug ridden underbelly. Protagonist is one hapless anti-hero fighting his drug addiction.


I’ve been pretty busy in the past few weeks, starting the translation of my book into two languages. So, that’s something that kind of keeps me busy. As well as promoting my book in the Catalan language region, the Balearic Isles, as well as mainland Catalonia.

I also have a very thousands of new ideas for new writings. I finished two different poetry books this year, I compiled a short story selection and began the draft of a new novel. So there are things that can be expected for 2016 or 2017 depending on how fast things go and I get them to move forward.

Before you do your first real publication, you’re completely concerned if people will like your book. Now, if I’m honest, that’s not really a concern for me anymore, it might sound a bit mean or tough, but the truth is, once your book is out, you immediately start to think of new things to write about, about the next step. Well, that’s how it is with me, anyway. The tears, the pain, the sweat and the effort are all in the book. Now I need something new to get my teeth in. Lol ūüėČ

Apart from being busy, I start getting noted which is nice, it’s weird, but it’s nice too. So, I’ve got an¬†interview request and I hope that both interview and the two book launches can be carried out without fail.

At the minute, the whole thing around “La nit estesa” is a whole lot of juggling times, and juggling your other projects, and juggling family and friends. It can be a drag, but let’s face it. There are by far worse things to complain about. So I will shut up now.

I’ve had an extraordinary and truly exciting year 2015. A year of growth. And somehow, I hope this is just the first bit of¬†a rollercoaster ride that please does not stop mid-air or with my head in a¬†spin or some¬†upside down position.

Looking forward to it.


What I am

Ok, I am the person that I am.

For better or for worse.

No more trying to be somebody else.
No more diluting myself.
No more doing stuff just because people expect you to.
No more backing down just because the road might be rocky.

This is Eddie Brickell and her 1988 track What I am which I really like a lot.

I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box
Religion is the smile on a dog
I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean, d-doo yeah

Choke me in the shallow waters
Before I get too deep

What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?
What I am is what I am
Are you what you are, or?

Oh, I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks
Religion is a light in the fog
I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean, d-doo yeah

Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep

What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?
What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?

What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?
What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what you are, and?

What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?

Don’t let me get too deep
Don’t let me get too deep
Don’t let me get too deep
Don’t let me get too deep

Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep
Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep

Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep
Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep

The truth is I was a little fed up of my own blog so I stopped posting in it. Maybe some occurrences made me wonder whether it was me who gave way to some odd things happening in my life, and to be honest, the answer is probably yes.

Anyway, I do things mostly on a gut level. When I feel things are fine, I stay that way, and if not, heck, I will change it. Move on to another direction. I don’t have such a polished life motto that guides me in my darkest hour, but I do feel that I won’t give up as easily now as before.

I do think that some things are worth fighting for and throwing all your weight in the balance is sometimes a good way to find out who’s with you and who’s not.

Having said that, if 2013 was a tough year for me, then, 2014 needs to be called an even tougher year. There have been many hickups along the way. Some really good stuff has happened too, mind you. But it was a very moved year. For sure not one that I will forget, that much is certain.

At the minute, I guess I try to figure out what makes me happy and what doesn’t, I try to be conclusive, consequent, throw old stuff I don‚Äôt need anymore, and heavy (emotional) baggage overboard. There are some things and also sadly enough some people in my life, that I find I can very well do without. And yes, I will cut the ties, or already have done so. That‚Äôs the good part I guess. The bad part is the consequence. Sometimes cutting ties can be hard in itself. But at the end of the day, it‚Äôs my life. I need to live it and be happy with it. Every time I did that, chucking out the old and heavy stuff, something really pleasant and beautiful happened.

I finally found my smile back, and it led me to believe that this is what will ultimately illuminate my way.

Thank you all for reading this. Have a wonderful Christmas, take care, stay safe, wherever you are, whoever you’re with and most of all. Think about this for a minute.

If it hurts for quite some time, it’s a good enough choice to walk away.

If it makes you happy, you might as well give it your best shot.


Nothing is forever. Unless it’s meant to be, and then you’ll find out soon enough.

I thought that I had it all under control. How wrong was I? Well, forget it. That was just rhetorical.

Under control. Sounds so mature and adult.


But that’s never the case, anyway, with writers, and weird artists, is it.

When I look back on the summer vacations of the kids which rather sooner than later come to a close, I get a little panicky. What is it that I achieved so far? And Spanish summer vacations are long, they are like an aeon. I really hope that school starts over soon. I want to get back to be able to do things again. Get back in the saddle. Get along. Move on.

There is something inside me that feels kind of paralyzed or haunted or even cursed by the recent things I had the doubtful pleasure to be involved in, being the protagonist, one mean want to add.

I feel out of sorts. Emotionally all over the place. Fed up and wasted. Running on empty.

Left alone. Sometimes abandoned by friends.

Misunderstood. THat’s the most awful but also powerful feeling of all.

And kind of like this permanent underachiever.

Believe me, would you have the chance to talk to some of my previous teachers or friends who’ve known me from my early tens and until my mid twenties, you’d know that underachiever is not something that springs to mind when talking about me. And yet, recently, my life seems to have amounted to that of a huge failure.

For whom is it worse?

For the one who never had success?

For the one who tasted success and kind of tripped, stumbled and fell?

For the one who was always successful?

And what’s more? Is it true? Is this what I am? A failure.

Society wise, I am probably one. Mother, not even holding down a decent job in more than ten years. Always jobbing in McJobs. Not getting anywhere. Yes, failure.

Personally, I wouldn’t consider myself that much of a failure. I am someone who knows a whole lot of things. I am fluent in a couple of languages, I read a lot, I am on top of things, with my family and with my kids. We have a great life in terms of being a family. That is something that kind of psyches me a lot.

So what happens here? Is this the reason, why I am so unhappy? Don’t I allow myself to be happy just because i don’t have a decent job here? It sure isn’t for the lack of trying. Ibiza is fickle. I think I belong here. But being perceived as a failure by some few outsiders who just look at the very surface of things, that is something I should try to throw overboard. I do feel sad when I find that people only see my outward image and the failure to fit in to a society that doesn’t allow for freaks like me… It does make me feel that they should see my positive traits, it’s something that kind of brings me down. Is this mature? No, it surely isn’t. But I cannot help it. I still feel that everyone should tell me “Attaboy” every once in a while. And I can see that this is where a lot of problems within my life come from. This feeling of wanting to be the winner, the super achiever, the feeling that you can only be loved, if you are the winner.

What happened here? Am I hardwired to be only think I’d be loveable when I win? Do I even have the slightest chance to be happy in life? I feel happy for my kids. Because there seems to be something I must have done right, cos we are so close to each other. They tell me things. I see them grow up as happy and also as self confident little individuals, all with very different personalities. Why can’t I be like this? Why am I still so full of doubts, so unsecure about myself? Why am I still on the edge of everything when I should relax and enjoy life?

The answer seems simple. I just can’t. There are questions inside of me.

Questions that are still not answered. And questions that will never be answered.

Is it this reality shift that doesn’t allow people to step out of this huge shadow that society makes us perceive people without a permanent job? When I was younger, I was very straight-laced, very much the daughter of two doctors, very immune to any social ladder, and absolutely sure that I would never stumble or fall down. So when at age 18 I moved out, things were quite different. I had perceived things through a certain angle that was no longer there. So I rearranged my views. And that was hard, but I managed to do it, or rather undo that which was due to the way I was brought up. I grew up in this middle class family, with two aspiring doctors, and we were three children at home. I was the only girl, the middle child.

I must admit, I am someone who doubts everything. I doubt everyone, every day, every second of my life.

Maybe, writers must be like this, doubting, pondering, doubting again, I thought. But some aren’t like this. So that argument doesn’t cut it either.

There are people who have the most bulletproof egoes I have ever seen. But the truth is I do not belong to them. If you deal with me, doubt will be part of the experience. And it’s not even a conscious decision. It’s inherent in my nature, but somehow the doubt is projected onto me. And I don’t move along smoothly, I always tend to stumble through life, rather than walk upright. This is not effortless motion, it’s a tour de fource. Never mind stepping up a ladder. It’s not in my genes.

Maybe, it’s still my father’s death lingering over my head like a huge dark cloud that kind of hovers around, sometimes leaving me in peace, and sometimes not.

I could really think that this still is affecting me. It might still be the case. But come on, my father and me, we had an ongoing fight who was stronger, throughout my life. And I reckon I kind of gave way, because here he is, beating me to it. It’s not that life with him was always easy, but it was a hell of an intense father-daughter relationship which somehow made me the person I am. So either way, I am thankful for what my dad gave me. Be it his mental skills, his emotional depth, his love for music or his deeply rooted love for nature and more than anything his deep understanding of people as a species. He understood all of them. Correct, he understood all of them, except one. And that was me.

Maybe, it’s the fact that I did not achieve the goals that I set for myself.
What kind of goals were these?

I wanted to move forward. I had this weird impression I wasn’t going anywhere. I so wanted to find a publisher. But as I am writing these lines, I got nothing more than warm words and therefore I am still at ground zero with that. It seems not to happen like this. My novel is finished, but it’s this missing feeling of closure. I am very happy with it, but I cannot seem to find a publisher who is eager enough to publish it.

Maybe it’ll happen but hey, who am I kidding? It gives of the scent of a big fat white lie. Probably nobody wants to read the novel, and I should accept it and move on.

And with all of what happened in between set goals and not achieving them, I had two jobs in between, some money rip offs that happened to me, and more than a handful quite shady job opportunities. It’s just weird. When I apply for a job, people seem to think that I should bring money with me and not the other way round, which made me somewhat reluctant on that front. And I do have a home office, and internet, the right mindset, and what not. But the truth is that I am half employed, half unemployed. Right now the time of being unemployed has just begun.

That again doesn’t help to raise my spirits.

I always look out for new jobs, but it’s somewhat weird to look for a job, that seems to only exist in terms of self-employment. But I can’t do that. I cannot risk making myself self-employed without the perspective of getting a single dollar (or euro) and still be paying 250‚ā¨ per month to get the bird off the ground. It’s all very tricky.

Some of my friends have been picking on me, calling me irresponsible, calling me worse than irresponsible, making me feel even worse, kind of letting me know that they of course have the patent recipe for all of this. We should all move back to Germany. Oh, how great is that? I would think that after almost seven years of living in Ibiza this is the most insane thing I could of.

I would rather pick stones in a Russian camp for dissidents or eagerly slash my wrists than going back there. I was so suicidal, so damn and downright unhappy and sooooo alone back there. There is no way on this earth that I am going back to this country that made me suffer this much.

So, what am I left with?

I will have to make do.

Maybe, it would be a great time to throw away the expectations I had when I was twelve, and get new ones. Just be happy with who you are. Love who you are and love people around you. And accept life for what it is.

Since I am not really practical, I have been failing at that gloriously. But that’s what true artists are really good at.


They make an artful of their broken images and their shattered hopes.

Ok, just let me get this straight. I don’t work for fun. I work because I need to, just like 98% of the population. What makes things harder on me, is that my time is mostly divided up between my several jobs that I tend to have, since none of them not even nearly covers my expenses, and none of them nearly gets me anywhere to some kind of financial security. But, hey, what’s it to me anyway. I am a translator, a free spirit, someone who is blessed to live the way they want to anyway. Right? No, wrong. Big time wrong.

It’s funny to see that my last entry on this blog was about the World Cup being used to cover up for a lot of what I would summarize under the Big Rio de Caca or Spain’s internal crisis. The truth is, now some 45 days on in history. I’ve had my own private Rio de Caca here and then. Why? Let me explain.

As I said, I work as a translator. What I do is that I try to get some jobs here and there to somehow get to the end of the month. That’s basically what I do. Things are not going especially well, not with some people not understanding that a real translation is something else than doing “copy/paste” with google translate. Plus, the market is full with so-called translators who don’t do this profession any favor by calling themselves translators. Anyway, that being said, I was ecstatic when I received an email informing me about an urgent job to translate from Castellano to English. I asked if this was a one-off, but no. It was meant to be a regular thing. Since I was in the last throes of my other almost regular job, I tried to postpone it, but no, of course, it was just now and then. So I agreed to make an appointment. The appointment went well, I got the job, and I was told to be working from now on from the own privacy of my home, a thing I very much appreciated, since the pay was just as much as to cover the actual time spent on the translation (as foreseen by my employer).

Ok, since I was being quite in the middle of a very hectic week, I agreed that they would prepare me things to sign, and since I had their word and a handshake, I thought everything was fine. At least, that was not some kind of back alley deal. That is a newspaper. This is group of different media companies (TV, newspaper, and what not) which have been here for years and years. So I thought, it would not be necessary to show any mistrust against them. A handshake used to fine in this case. So I thought.

In the very first couple of days, things went very chaotic, if not totally unprofessionally. I got sent texts of an amount where I needed to extract about an article of 20% the size and sometimes the titles were this large I was only allowed four to max. five words in the title etc. Plus the texts were sent very late, and many other things that were not really helpful in terms of me having a normal and useful working environment, because my only contact with the company were the emails that were sent to me.

I tried to get back in touch with the man who hired me. I asked him for a second interview even though I had a good mind of simply telling him that this way, the work is not really workable. Not in one or in one and a half hours, which was the base for the amount he was willing to pay. I was actually willing to quit after four or five days, it wasn’t even a week. So I sat him down and talked him through my pains. He listened very carefully and then told me he would change the system, and he could understand my concerns, etc. etc. In the end, he even lowered the amount of articles from 8 to five articles per day, which was absolutely necessary since they always arrived extremely late and it turned out that I had to not only translate them, but also revise them, sometimes rewrite them to make them fit into the small space they were given on one page. I asked for the texts to be sent earlier in the day so I would not wait around so much and could also make use of the afternoon or evening.

A couple of times, the arrangement worked, but mostly, it was simply very chaotic.
At the very beginning of our cooperation, I informed my boss of a course I would be doing in Barcelona but he would not have to worry, I would still be translating that week. I really wanted this job so much. I wanted to move mountains in order to achieve something. He had talked about giving me a proper job in the editors’ team.

Ok, fast forward 40 days. I started on June 15th. I was supposed to get my first cash on July 15th. However, since that was exactly during the week I was in Barcelona, I thought, no big deal, I will be paid the week after. Right? Wrong…


Last week I showed up at the office, throwing in an office day to say hello and ask about the payment, which I thought at the time, was no problem at all. I mean, they had been printing all my articles and they had thanked me for sending them the articles, so I thought, good. I need to pay my invoices just like anyone else, and so I asked when I could have my money. I was referred to someone in the administration and this someone asked me what type of agreement I had with the paper. I said 30‚ā¨, went back to my desk, continued translating, was called in after I’d finished and was told that I would need to make myself self-employed, a thing which is absolutely impossible on 900‚ā¨ (supposing the 900‚ā¨ = deducted from 30 days per 30‚ā¨ payable). The thing was we had spoken net amounts, and I told them, I could work on a normal parttime schedule, with the three hours every day and so forth. But then, I was told that the 900‚ā¨ would be a brut amount leaving me with much less. When this happened, I asked them to send me a comparative study so that I could make up my mind which way to choose. Although I surely wasn’t happy about any of this. 30‚ā¨ just about covers me, but 30‚ā¨ minus 25% or even 30% that simply wouldn’t do it.

However, they never send me the comparative study. In the end, I was notified, after I had again send them an email and still kept on working, that the situation had changed. All of a sudden, the word was that I would be reimbursed with 500‚ā¨ flat, as it had been agreed upon in the very first meeting, before I had even finished three days at work, and when there was no talk about working seven days a week… But no, 500‚ā¨ instead of 900‚ā¨ and that was it. No questions asked. I just couldn’t believe it.

I made a short calculation, saw that this amount would simply not cut¬†it for all the hours I lost each and every day. So, I told them, again, in the nicest way possible, that there has got to be a mistake. But right now, I don’t think that any of my doubts, are being heard. I haven’t heard back from them, even though I yesterday (Sunday) sent out a reminder to ask for my due pay for working 40 days non-stop. This company owes me 1200‚ā¨. And they don’t care that I have worked for them like a clockwork. Never failed them once.

It is now 45 days after my first day at work. I tore the ripcord, stopped writing for them, last Friday (after being informed that my monthly pay would be 500‚ā¨! For 30 days, for 3 hours, and 5 articles daily). At first I could simply not believe it that a newspaper will act this way. Basically, they are not willing to pay the amount we had an agreement for. This was 30 ‚ā¨ / day. I averaged in between two to three hours work, but there were days when I needed four to five hours since I waited for the articles to be sent or because the big article was still missing or they would have problems with the headlines or whatever. So let’s speak of an average of three hours (which under normal circumstances, could have been two hours, but that’s about as low as it gets in terms of time). They claim now that we had a different agreement, which rounds of at 15.60‚ā¨ / day which is truly quite unbelievable.


I had a similar case happen to me in spring. When I translated a comic or let’s say I proof-read it and didn’t get paid. I had given them a lousy and ridiculously low price. But even so. It’s still money, and it’s still time I invested into someone else’s work and where I didn’t see any benefits.

But this is so much larger in terms of scale. I am so sick and tired of being ripped off. If I had known this, I would have stopped working for them much earlier. But as things are, I need to stick around, fix things somehow, it just breaks my heart cos my kids ask me to go to the beach, summer time, to relax and enjoy the time, but I can’t. I need to say no, since I am here, in my home office, looking for a new job, a way to get back on top of things. Being ripped off for one and a half month of good work is quite something.

One thing for sure, I am sad and angry. I feel treated like I am some kind of idiot. I feel ridiculed.

Now I can remember what my old primary school used to say “You’re my first class here. Act like you know that you are going to pave the way for many many new primary classes to come. If you blow it, it’ll be on your head.” That was always something that impressed me lots. We were an exemplary class.

I just hope that this company will make the same bad experience one day. And I also hope that then they will realise the true extension of their antisocial and irresponsible behaviour. They are paving the way to being “antisocial” being accepted as a “business model”.

I’m not finished with them.

– To be continued –


Spain’s team “La Roja” played crap yesterday, so they lost. Booh-bloody-hooo! This would certainly not be worth even an arched eyebrow from me but this one is different. In a country where the testosterone filled male pride is shattered in seconds after the final minute of this game, we can all go home quietly and wonder what this is all about. Don’t call me arrogant, but I’m gonna fill in the blanks here. It’s not that I’m an expert here, but still. The whole build up around the football championship in Brazil got me thinking.

Believe me, I’m not a big football fan myself even though I used to play it as a child a lot. But the kind of extremely comercialized version of everything just does not do it for me. But being a good wife ūüėČ I was sitting¬†next to my husband and saw the match.¬†If I’m honest, yes, I was happy¬†seeing Spain got kicked in the arse by the Dutch yesterday. The reason? Just very simple… If Spain had won, we could forget the next coming six weeks or so… Everything would be overshadowed with this huge football halo and all the Neanderthal emotional crap that goes with it. We could forget for the next six weeks¬†what really matters and just sit in front of the TV screen and figure out which one of these sickeningly overpaid footie players will be the star of this championship.

Boy, I am sooo not into that… As much as I like watching fit males doing something that shows off their muscular side and everything, but still… These days, no-one can say that football is just plain football. It’s also some kind of hen picking in some way. Or ok, point taken, a cock fight.

Spain has a lot to do, a lot to deal with these days… But we’re so close to the two months where nothing, but really nothing happens around here… nothing¬†politically, nothing that will hit the newspapers,¬†… and therefore this “failure to perform”¬†in the championship is something I’m pretty happy about. Because it changes the perspective slightly.

Oh, ok… And yes, it was a piece of cake for the Dutch crew cos they are sooooo used to playing on wet ground. But still.

The image shown above basically was just a joke playing on the difference in terms of mínimum wage and unemployment rates of the two countries.

What about the King then? Well the old one was clever enough to take his hat and just leave… while he was still able to conceive the benefit of what he was doing. All his Swiss accounts must be bursting with whitewashed cash, so what’s there to worry about.

– The Catalans want freedom and Independence

– the unemployment rate has never been as high

– Spanish nationalists rear their ugly heads (there’s some whiff of¬†LePenn here)

– Mariano Rajoy is just another hopeless idiot (sigh)… and he’s still around another two years… (sigh, yeah, I know)

– the crisis (even though it’s self created) is still pretty much around

– politicians like Wert and Bauz√† show what types of people advance in the political hierarchy and which ones don’t

–¬†the population is suffering (financially,¬†ideologically)

– there’s a tendency towards riots (Like¬†happened at the end of may in Barcelona)

– people unable to pay off their houses, are jumping to their death. This type of suicide has become (very sadly) quite popular as people¬†are killing themselves because they don’t have a perspective and¬†they¬†don’t know¬†any better

– Felipe (the heir to the throne) is so in tune with the socalled¬†“Old boys’ club” (in this case: PP party, Wert, Rajoy, Bauz√†). They have a lot in common. So, yeah, basically, it’s his turn to earn his spurs.

In all fairness, it was a surprisingly clever thing to do for Juan Carlos, at least, from his point of view. However, what bemuses me is that in the aftermath of this non-news there is the new/old discussion about the necessity of monarchy. One day twitter boiled up but after that, everything was just gone and forgotten. Are Spaniards this quick at forgetting? Come on, guys!

What is the ra√ģson d’√™tre of a King these days?

You know what I’m thinking, don’t you? Yes. There is none whatsoever. Nada. None. Niet. Nil. No.¬†Exactly. Except for wasting money from a currently deeply crisis-ridden and indebted household. That really isn’t the most clever of moves here. So basically, what was a clever to do¬†for the father, is some kind of¬†burden and¬†maybe even some spot on his currently White chest… Felipe starts out bad. This cannot be the pole position to start with.

Even worse when we think about the date they’ve set for the coronation ceremony. Again — a thorn in the side of all Catalans who are bitterly reminded that this was the date when one city was burned to cinders. Alas! Again, bad move here.

Another thing is the criticism that still remains about unsolved cases around the royal family… Urdangarin, Infanta Cristina, and what not… This is a political heritage bundle not too easy to carry around.


I must say, Felipe would be clever to say no to this Crown. But of course, he won’t. Noblesse oblige…

Sorry. Last video I uploaded is about the Camorra. This one here is the book presentation.
Zerozerozero is surely worth reading.

Roberto Saviano makes it sound like fiction. It’s however reality, and nothing else.

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