Yesterday, my friend Marc had to visit a court in Barcelona, after being accussed for an electoral penalty.

Marc has always had a strong Catalan sentiment, and fights for the independence of his country from the French and Spanish states in as many ways he finds convenient. In this direction, he's been involved in countless activities promoting independence, in the Internet and in the streets.

For now, he has to deal with living in the Spanish state, and recently this became a legal problem. Spain held parlamentary elections in March, and Marc was appointed to serve at one of the polling stations in Barcelona. Believing he had nothing to do with an election process to elect the Spanish parliament, he conciously refused to take his seat during that Sunday, infringing the Spanish electoral law.

He presented his allegations to the officer, and refused to declare anything else. He now faces a fine ranging from 180 to 1800€ or community work (which he would, again, object to perform). The officer told him that he's apparently the first Catalan to object like this, so what will happen next (besides he'll have to sit in court and see how it goes) is unprecedented.

While Marc and I don't share many of our political views, I admire his dedication and his solid defence of his ideals. If I had been called to serve in a polling station last March, I would most probably have had my own personal debate on what to do, but suspect I would have ended going there to avoid creating these kind of situations, and would have had to participate in a process that I consider broken, unfair and undemocratic. I admire and support Marc for being stubborn enough to get this far.

His case has had quite some echo in the Catalan blogsphere and some Catalan media like VilaWeb. Some people have started a campaign to collect money to help Marc pay the fine. The response so far has been surprisingly positive.

Marc, molta sort i una abraçada!

The newspapers brought good news bits in the last two days.

Público reports on Paco Rivière's ongoing quest to get a refund for the extra money he had to pay for a Windows licence when he bought a laptop. Paco is a well known member of the Ubuntu Catalan community and has been battling for this common-sense right for 3 years. The trial took place last Monday, and hopefully he'll be able to report some good news soon.

In totally unrelated news, the Valencian caveman Juan García Sentandreu, leader of the right-wing “Coalición Valenciana” party, was arrested yesterday, for still not too clear reasons. Being one of the biggest enemies of my language, and having a long record of violent attacks to cultural entities and other political parties in València, I can't say I pitty him at all. I hope he had fun sleeping with the yonkis in the central police station last night. :)

Knowing many people in the Debian community, I knew others would be there too. And Gunnar confirmed it yesterday via Planet Debian. Yes, I participated in the World Naked Bike Ride, although at the time I didn't know about the campaign, I thought people were doing it “just because we can” mostly.

So, after being invited to the ride the week before, 5 of our colla were in the old Túria's river bed, near the Fira Alternativa's scenary at the scheduled time. Not having done anything like this before, we were a bit expectant to see how many people would actually do it, before deciding to join them. After a while, more and more people seemed to gather, and it finally took off. Pants off, and there we go!

The insane amount of photographing and filming that was going on around us at the beginning was a bit uncomfortable, but after a while we had mostly forgotten we were riding our bikes naked through the commercial arteries of València. The ride was too long for my taste, covering the whole Fira, Plaça d'Amèrica, carrer Colom just in front of “El Corte Inglés” (I wonder how many known people saw me there), Xàtiva, Russafa, back to Xàtiva, Town Hall, Ciutat Vella, river margin and Blasco Ibáñez.

Even if it was a sunny day, the chilly wind made me feel really cold, but overall it was quite fun, and an interesting experience I might or might not repeat. I'm certainly not becoming a naturism activist or anything like this. I do think we have way too many taboos, and every time I get rid of one, I feel a lot better. :)

Last Thursday, and the few days after, were quite intense. A series of events made me feel really loved by a lot of people, which is always a good reminder of what kind of friends you are surrounded by.

I could talk about Pep's gift at work, Visenteta, a goldfish which now lives in an aquarium at home, which in turn was donated by Cristina and Brande. While I still have mixed feelings about keeping animals in cages, my choices were give it a better place than the small bowl where it initially lived, give it away to someone who could properly take care of Visenteta, or sacrifice it. I unsuccessfully tried #2, can't do #3 myself, so I accepted Brande's offer to have a decently-sized aquarium at home. Visenteta seems happy today, and I've learned all about aquarium maintenance the hard way.

During the day my mobile phone didn't rest for too long intervals; everyone was calling it to congratulate me and so on. But the bigger emotions came after leaving work, when I went to l'Alqueria to hang around with my friends and see if they would go have an orxata with Maria and me. Strangely, they refused, being in the middle of an apparently very important plant transplantation operation. When suggested going for dinner instead, the reaction was pretty cold too, but this was understandable as we'd meet on Friday at my place for a tiny celebration. In the end we headed off to Alboraia alone and had a delicious orxata in Toni's shop.

Maria said she had a surprise reservation in a Indo-Pakistani restaurant near my house, so after a while we cycled back to València. As it was getting dark and cold, we went into my house to get some clothes, and when I opened the living room door, I was scared by a bunch of shadows suddenly shouting at me and was buried in confetti. I couldn't react for the next 10 seconds, while my brain quickly built relations of many details that had happened during the week, all part of the preparations for a secret party at my own place.

Wow, the feeling is incredible. I've participated in similar surprise parties, but had never been the target. I hope everyone reading this gets one at least once in their lives, I really loved it!

But still, when the party ended, I slowly started to find little gifts all over the place: a book under my pillow, a bicycle bell on my handlebar, a cactus for my computer space...

My friends had been planning all of this for the last two weeks, and I never suspected anything. Incredible! It really makes me feel surrounded by people who care about and love me, and went through the hassle of coordinating 10 or 12 persons with me not noticing at all. Thank you, everyone!

The book, by the way, is Si no plou, plourà, by TV3's Mònica López, a fun compendium of popular weather proverbs which we discovered in a gas station in Tarragona, during our Easter trip to la Terra Alta.

And today, I finally turn 30. I've been grumpy about this day getting closer and closer for the last three or four years, which have passed in front of my eyes with me nearly not noticing.

The last year has had more downs than ups, and at times has been quite dark. I feel things are slowly getting better, and I spend more time looking forward than back, which certainly should help.

Tomorrow I'll hold a small party at home with some friends, but the big and proper event will be in September, when five or six people in our colla, born in 1978, will celebrate our 30^th birthday, in a massive, weekend-long party already dubbed La festa dels excessos. You shouldn't miss this one!

Thanks to the many people who have phoned, texted or emailed me already. It reminds me that I'm surrounded by people who love me and were there when I needed them.

Six months ago, a political group in Spain made a big fuss and noise when the Government of Venezuela closed down the anti-chavist RCTV TV station, and waved the flag of freedom of speech, called the democratically elected government a “regime”, and called their president a “dictator”.

On Sunday night, these very same people, following orders from the leaders of the Valencian government —or should I say regime—, drove up to the top of the Carrasqueta peak in Xixona, in the South of the Valencian Country, and protected by the winter's darkness, proceeded to force open two locks, broke into ACPV's property and unplugged and precincted the equipment which had been broadcasting the signal of TV3 and the rest of the public Catalan TV channels to the South of our land, for the last 21 years.

Although this wasn't unexpected it is probably one of the biggest attacks to freedom of speech, choice and plurality since democracy was restored in the state. The political benefit PP is planning to obtain from this attack is clear: pleasing the regional right-wing cavemen who think we have nothing to do with the Catalan culture just 2 months away from some very decisive elections will probably give them a handful of extra votes. There are also economical interests involved, like having right-wing media groups control even more digital TV channels that they already do, but that's really anecdotic now.

Two nights ago, it was the South. In a matter of days, the antennas in the Bartolo, in the North of the Valencian territory, will also be unplugged, blackening the screens of thousands of Valencians who think they have the right to watch decent quality TV in their mother tongue. Thank you, fascists.

1:00 AM. València celebrates with big fireworks, and drivers sound their horns along Blasco Ibánez. People are happy; we will have our urban F1 circuit after all. Our city will continue growing and becoming the very best of Europe. Our land will continue to be developed, and finally becoming the new Côte d'Azur, for the great benefit of a few.

The slow but unstoppable process of degrading a culture to something that can be admired by tourists during Fallas just reached a new milestone.

Welcome to my ex-country. The land of golf, sailing and open-wheel racing.

València clearly leaves no room for mistakes when it comes to bicycles, I just got reminded of this the hard way today.

Last night I came out of the institute just 15 minutes before the closing of the supermarket, and I wanted to buy some stuff for dinner. I rushed back home, and decided I had no time to go up to drop my backpack and bicycle before they would close, so I just tied it to a street lamp outside the supermarket door. I ended up buying a few heavy things like milk so when I went out I then realised I wouldn't be able to carry the four bags, plus the backpack, plus the bicycle up, and the easiest would be to drop the stuff at home and then go down again for the bicycle. Great plan, except after placing the food in the cabinets, I totally forgot about the bike and did the usual cooking-laundry-computer-bed ritual.

Only when I was ready to go to work today I realised the bike was not up in the flat, and I suddenly realised about my fuckup. A quick glance from the balcony revealed what I suspected: the bike was no longer there.

This is quite annoying because there are at least three bikes that sleep outside on the street every single day, although they look “old” and value-less. Ironically, I value old bikes more than any new mountain-bike like mine, which I got for free from my bank, and was pretty crappy, even if at first glance it appeared to be quite ok Orbea (the gears were crappy Shimano, the back wheel was deformed, and a long etc. of quirks).

As I feel quite impaired without a bike, I'll try to get my mother's Orbea Laida, fixed ASAP, something I should have done 7 months ago. For now, I'll just run home/to work; I really need it anyway.

People tell me I should just get one from the stolen bicycle market in València, and I get mad at them. These people are the reason there's such a big offer for stolen bikes, and they get stolen nearly professionally in València. Sigh.

Turning 29 means I'm really near the age of 30, becoming grumpy and watching how the 40's keep getting closer and closer. Oh no!

On the more positive side, it also means I've been getting calls from the people who love me all day long, and I'll celebrate with my friends tonight, at Terra. Thanks everyone!

Tomorrow at 9 in the morning some officers from the Valencian regional Government will drive up to the mountains of the Bartolo, Serra Perentxissa, Montdúver and Carrasqueta to power off the set of antennas which have broadcasted the signal of TV3, the Catalan public television, during the last 20 years for the entire Valencian territory. These news have been responded with protests from most of the Valencian cultural collectives. You can sign a petition, or send an e-mail, which will be swiftly ignored by the people in charge.

Behind the official reasoning for this attack to our freedom of choice -the broadcast is illegal- there is a set of good reasons for the usual suspects, the Valencian Partido Popular to do this. The biggest one is that two months before the local and regional elections, the right-wing are doing their math and it may not be working out too well for them. They need to scrape as many votes as they can, and an easy granary is attracting the extreme right-wing, which is a bit active but fragmented in the region, and mostly in the city of València. This social group is greatly virulent against anything which sounds like “Catalan”, especially the people known as “blaveros”, who claim our culture and language has no common root and has nothing to do with the culture and language from the North. Fortunately, the ISO 639 standard and the entire scientific community agree that they are nuts.

But back to my rant. So, how can the PP try to get a handful of votes from the right-wing? Easy, start an anti-TV3 show on the media and start scalating it until the final act -tomorrow-, where milions of citizens are deprived of one of the best channels available in our TV sets. This will surely be sold as a major victory against the “Catalan invasion” or as the end of an "alegal situation", although there are like 30 other channels in the same situation in the city of València, and the PP-controlled Canal 9 channel is broadcasted in the Balear Islands (also controled by PP) in the same legal situation.

In a time when watching Middle-East or American channels is trivial using a satellite set, some people think the best thing they can do is to end a service paid and provided for free by Acció Cultural del País Valencià, an important cultural entity, during the last 20 years, ending the right to choose one of the only channels with all the programs in our language for milions of Valencians. Their right to do it is also challenged in court, but there is no doubt that tomorrow they'll go ahead and shut it off.

We could have a reasonable government who would maybe want to accept the Catalan TV and radio channels in our territory, if the Catalan government would also accept our (crappy) channels in theirs, but they refuse this as well, because they now “feel insulted”. All in all, I had enough of PP long ago, and am hoping I am not the only one. In less than a month, Valencians will celebrate the 300^th anniversary of the Batalla d'Almansa on the 25th of April of 1707, although we seem to be fighting a new battle now in 2007.

The Batalla d'Almansa meant the end of the War of the Spanish Succession in Spain, but also the start of tough times for our culture, language, and people, when Felipe V abolished the Valencian furs. But this story can make a blog post of its own next month.

Quan el mal ve d'Almansa, a tots alcança...

Last weekend I had great fun during my first calçotada with my friends in Picamoixons, very near Valls in Tarragona. While it's already a tradition for my friends, this was the first time I went there, after having missed many other opportunities probably due to my overcommitment to triathlon training a few years ago.

So on Friday we drove up North to Catalunya, and arrived quite late to Frago's house in the center of Valls, where we slept in two packed rooms and the terrace after getting some beers in Dune. Early next morning we met Frago's friends and bought the necessary vegetables and wine for our great lunch, and soon after we were in the middle of some olive field outside Picamoixons, where we prepared a big fire and the calçots.

A calçot is a special type of onion which grows in the area, which ends up being very long and thin. After cutting part of the green leaves, they are cooked over the flames, which carbonises the first few layers of the onion, but leaves the inner part ready for consumption. After this, you just need to pull from the inner leaves to get rid of the burnt stuff and eat the rest with a delicious and typical sauce for calçots. So far, so good.

What if your group of friends has extended the tradition, allowing for extra fun bits? In our calçotades, after you've peeled the calçot, you keep the carbonised stuff. It's valuable ammo, which will soon be thrown at others' faces. Trying to remain clean is futile, you soon are covered by sauce and black stuff all over your head and clothes. This was real fun!

After eating part of the group went up a mountain to visit an arab tower, which helped me not to get totally drunk before the night. When it got dark, we were all back to our positions around the fire, chatting and listening to varied music, while we waited for the lunar eclipse.

The eclipse was impressive, seen from the country side, with absolutely no luminic contamination. My friend Jordi carefully prepared his camera to do a good photograph series of the event, and the results were impressive. When the eclipse was about to be full, it was great to see a miriad of stars appear in the sky, previously hidden by the perfect full moonlight. We were just too lucky that the weather fixed up just on time to have a completely clear sky.

The lunar eclipse, as seen from the Catalan countryside. Pics by Jordi Jover.

Many were quite tired by 3 or so, so we started setting up tents and went to sleep by 4. Sunday was a slow day, dedicated to cleaning up our stuff and eating leftovers cooked on a new fire. We were back in València at 8PM or so and even after showering and cleaning my hair with shampoo, my head still smelled like smoke. Actually, I think it might still smell a tiny bit today.

In short, a lovely weekend, which I hope to repeat next year. Too bad the lunar eclipse bit will be missing for quite a few more years. :)