Barry

What is it with me and Jewish guys named Barry? I've acquired another one, in Barcelona, of all places. I was wandering in the old city on Saturday and came across an open-air bookstall in the Placa George Orwell. I homed in on the English-language novels and heard the guy behind the table speak with a distinctly American accent. I struck up a conversation...and thus it was that I met Barry, from Chicago, 60-ish, who has lived a fairly peripatetic life with a lengthy stint in Barca. He lives on the Costa Brava and comes into the city every Saturday to sell books. We ended up going to a little hole-in-the-wall bar nearby for lunch - the kind of place that serves honest home cooking, brought to the table by a squat woman in a housedress and apron. A very interesting conversation ensued.

In addition to educating me on the particular dynamics (dysfunctional - what else?) of his Chicago family, Barry gave me the benefit of his 20+ years in Barca. We discussed the history, politics and culture of the region...and the distinctly (according to Barry) anti-Semitic attitudes of the Spanish. He says that 90% of them are pro-Palestinian and thus, anti-Israeli. Of course, the Jews have had a very difficult history in Spain - dating back to the Inquisition, forced conversions, and the expulsion of all Jews in 1492 by Isabela and Ferdinand. To this day, there are only some 20,000 Jews in all of Spain, a drop in the bucket. I am eager to interact with the local Jewish community to get their perspective on current attitudes. (This fall, for the first time since my own conversion, I did not go to synagogue for Yom Kippur or Rosh Hashanah. I rationalized that I was too busy moving into our new place, but I think I was intimidated by the language and cultural differences. Silly me.)

Barry's taking me on a tour of "his" Barcelona tomorrow. I'll report my findings.